Island of Mountains
Behind the scenes of a reporting trip to Armenia + fighting for your stories
The sun sets quickly in Armenia. Once it drops below the mountains, you are plunged into shadow and a chill starts to bite. We are driving back to the capital, Yerevan, after spending the day visiting towns along the border with Azerbaijan, which sits just beyond the snowy peaks. The last of the sun’s rays highlight the undulating slopes that surround us; the sky is already a delicate apricot. It is not yet 6pm. The person I’m travelling with has dozed off to the sound of classic Armenian music which fills our taxi. We have had a busy day.
I was in Armenia - otherwise known as the ‘Island of Mountains’ - a few weeks ago to speak to people displaced by last year’s war over Nagorno-Karabakh, a disputed enclave located in Azerbaijan but populated primarily by ethnic Armenians. It was the latest escalation in an ongoing conflict between the two neighbours in the Caucasus, one that shows no sign of abating. Both sides believe the land belongs to them. Both sides are intent on getting it back. Both sides have suffered losses and thousands have been displaced. My focus was on the psychological impacts this has on people unable to return to their homes. The fighting may have stopped (it ended on 10th November 2020), but the after-affects are just as brutal. For more context and to read the stories of the people I met whilst in Armenia, please take a look at my article for openDemocracy (see below), but for now, I’d like to give a little behind the scenes look at the reporting trip.
I’ve wanted to write about Nagorno-Karabakh (Armenians call it Artsakh) since last year’s war erupted in late September. But as a young freelancer with a tight budget it isn’t as simple as just hopping on a plane and going to the place in question. There are lots of things to take into consideration. You’ve got to think about how you’ll get access to the people whose stories you want to tell, you’ve got to get press accreditation, support on the ground (translator, driver, etc.), there are safety measures to think about, and ideally a commission in a news outlet to make the trip worth it. A news outlet usually won’t send a freelancer abroad - the freelancer will have to get there themselves, find the story, and then maybe you’ll get a commission (but that isn’t always guaranteed). Essentially, you’re on your own. This also means it can end up being quite costly - and, depending on where you go, dangerous.
But, that being said, nothing beats on-the-ground reporting: meeting people face to face, seeing things in the flesh, getting your own photos, talking to locals, and gauging the atmosphere of a place is what makes a piece of journalism. It’s all in the details. How else will you be able to see and capture the way a widow gently weeps for her husband, who was killed in the war, and then quickly wipes away her tears as her six-year-old daughter bounds into the room? It’s not just the big, historical events that need recording; it’s the quiet moments of grief, of hope, of resilience. It’s the human stories behind the headlines. This is the reason why I wanted to become a journalist in the first place, to bear witness to these kind of stories.
I’ve only been on a few reporting trips so far and am still very much finding my feet, which is why the past several times I’ve gone abroad was with NGOs who work in those places and could help me gain access to certain people and places, whether that’s walking through a minefield with deminers in Lebanon or going into the homes of displaced people in Armenia. But, this throws up the issue of objectivity. Can you be a truly independent journalist if you’re working so closely with an organisation? Sometimes relying on them for transport/security/etc? It is a tricky topic, and ideally, you wouldn’t rely on anyone but yourself. But I think it’s ok as long as you are transparent, stick to your principles and don’t let it cloud your judgement.
I’m glad I worked with an NGO during my reporting trip in Armenia (the Children’s Support Centre in Yerevan) as it meant that a psychologist and/or social worker could accompany me when I was interviewing vulnerable adults and children who had experienced a lot of suffering. Having them there to advise me and make sure the people I spoke to were ok was a huge relief for me, as their well-being was obviously the priority. I’ve already had a couple of trolls accuse me of being pro-Armenian, which was bound to happen (if I reported on the Azerbaijani people who were displaced, I’m sure I would be accused of being pro-Azerbaijan…) but the story wasn’t about taking sides - it was about the impact conflict has on people.
We travelled across Armenia going to shelters for displaced people, children’s centres, and into people’s homes to talk to them about their experiences of the war, fleeing their homes, and what their lives look like now, with the focus being on their mental health. One year on and the scars of war still run deep. “There are no obvious wounds but we have a lot of psychological issues – these wounds are hidden,” one woman told me. I sat in on an art therapy session where a group of children aged 8-17, were told to split their blank page in half and on one side draw their past - what they want to leave behind - and on the other side, their future. For their past, almost every child drew rockets raining down on their home, one boy drew a stick man shooting people with a huge gun, another drew a sea of dead people. Imagine being that young and seeing/thinking about that much violence?
I must admit, it would have been very bleak were it not for the warmth, kindness, and humour of the people I met along the way. From the blue-mascara-wearing psychologist, Narine, who introduced me to her favourite Armenian singers by playing their songs full blast in our car, to the young woman at the Artsakh embassy in Yerevan who offered me a quince to try that her family in Karabakh had sent her.
I returned to the UK eager to get writing, but it was trickier than I thought it would be to get a commission. Out of the 50 pitches I sent out to editors with this story, I received 14 rejections and one commission (eventually - thank you, openDemocracy) - the rest didn’t respond. I know, I know: editors are busy people with tiny budgets and an inbox stuffed with pitches. Of course they can’t respond to everybody. But, when you’ve gone abroad to do on-the-ground reporting, spoken to people who have broken down crying in front of you (including a child), and met people who have said how disappointed and angry they are with the lack of international attention on the conflict, it breaks your heart when your attempt at shining a light on it doesn’t even warrant a response.
This is one of my biggest frustrations as a journalist, and I know I’m not alone. It makes you feel like you’re failing the people who have trusted you to share some of their most painful memories. It also makes you doubt yourself. Was my pitch bad? Should I have chosen a different angle? Am I just a bad journalist? I think it’s more likely because Nagorno-Karabakh is quite an obscure place and people care less and less about wars in faraway places (even though this is literally right on Europe’s doorstep). But, as a freelancer it is something you have to push through. Sometimes you have to fight for your story, and I’m glad I fought for this one. Persistence pays off… eventually.
Reading
Expectation by Anna Hope - An evocative story encapsulating the highs and lows of female friendship. Three best friends, each very different in personality, live together in London Fields, as they grow up and their paths diverge they struggle to remain close, and wrestle with the expectations they once had for themselves Vs the reality of their lives now. I must admit I found it a bit depressing at times… but it was also an incredibly astute, moving read (and the descriptions of London Fields and London in general are wonderful).
Writerland: The Delacorte Review Newsletter - one of my favourite newsletters, which dissects everything there is to know about writing and being a writer. A line from ‘Chapter 38: I Have a Story. But I Don’t Have Time’ which struck a chord recently:
“There is so much standing between writers and writing: fear of failure, fear of not finding a home for your story; fear that you have nothing to show for the time spent reporting and writing. None of these fears are irrational.”
The amazon tribe fighting miners, farmers and Bolsonaro for survival - Christina Lamb travelled to Rio and then took two planes, an eight hour boat trip, a two-hour car journey, and two hours in a canoe to meet the indigenous Munduruku people who live on the edge of the Tapajos River in the Amazon rainforest. Her report for The Sunday Times Magazine is shocking: the river they rely on for food is being polluted by gold miners, farmers are encroaching on their sacred land, cutting down trees to make room for grain and soya crops, and worst of all, Brazil’s president is actively encouraging it. This is not just detrimental to their community; it will have global ramifications for generations to come. But, the indigenous people are fighting back, and there is a band of women at the forefront.
The most brilliant bookshops in the world - In the FT’s How To Spend It Magazine, the newspaper’s correspondents pick their favourite bookshops around the world, which of course includes “the bohemian-spirited” Shakespeare and Company in Paris (a favourite of mine). I have now made it my life’s mission to visit every bookstore on the list.
Here’s what we know about reports of women being ‘spiked with needles’ in UK clubs - When reports of women being spiked with needles started spreading on social media recently, I was as horrified as everybody else. Luckily, Sophia Smith Galer at VICE World News was quick to investigate and spoke to several experts who urged caution and told her it is unlikely that using needles to spike people with drugs would be a widespread phenomenon (there has been a rise in drink-spiking, but apparently that is common during freshers week in the Autumn, which is still pretty awful). However, these claims should be taken seriously and, in a follow-up piece, she found that both the police and the NHS are not providing adequate support for those who suspect they have been attacked.
Watching
Seat At The Table - A stunningly made YouTube documentary series which follows Jack Harries as he travels across the UK, from the Isles of Scilly to Glasgow to attend COP26. Along the way he meets some incredible young people who are being impacted by the climate crisis - both in the UK and around the world - whilst also uncovering stories of hope and innovation. They offset all carbon emissions they produced while making the series. Each episode is eye-opening; a powerful way to (hopefully) make world leaders and corporations sit up and listen - and act.
Writing
‘The war left a hole in my soul’: Survivors’ trauma a year after Nagorno-Karabakh war - One year on from the end of the Nagorno-Karabakh war, what are the psychological impacts on those forced to flee? After an ongoing dispute over the mountainous enclave in the Caucasus escalated into a bloody conflict, a Russian-brokered ceasefire ended fighting. But those displaced - many of them women and children - are still living with the brutal after-effects. I travelled across Armenia to meet some of them and hear their stories. They talked to me about fleeing their homes, the psychological impacts on their families, and the uncertainty they still feel.
Maria, 45, is from Hadrut, in Karabakh, and out of her family of nine, she lost her husband and eldest son in the war. Two of her sons were injured – one is waiting to have an operation on his leg. She sighs frequently, her eyes glazed with tears. “Even though the war is over, it is still painful. I feel the same negative feelings,” Maria says. Her days are spent caring for her wounded son and her two young children, the youngest of whom recently said: “I would like to become a bird so I can fly home to Artsakh.”
Thanks for reading - if you have any thoughts on the subjects in this newsletter and want to share, then please get in touch by replying to this email!