'We had a saying in those days. To shine shoes like an Assyrian,' begins Valery. 'There’s a reason why that profession was so popular among Assyrians – when you live dispersed, all over the world, and nobody speaks your language, you need a job where you can be mute. Where you have no voice.'
The boom of his voice echoes through his kitchen, and outside into the gardens and courtyards of the village of Arzni. Arzni, a short drive from the Armenian capital of Yerevan, greets visitors with a trilingual sign – in Armenian, Russian, and Assyrian Neo-Aramaic. This is an Assyrian village, and Valery is an ethnic Assyrian.
'Where there’s not quantity – there’s quality!'
The word 'Aturaya' (Assyrian) means many different things, and Assyrian identity stands at the centre of an intricate debate. The indigenous, Neo-Aramaic speaking Christian populations of northern Iraq, northern Syria, and southeast Turkey have long been divided along ecclesiastical lines. Recent moves to forge a common Assyrian, Aramaean or Syriac identity have made only limited progress.
