In the prison where he is held in Azerbaijan, Haykaz Hovhannisyan is a strong and loving man; surrounded by a large family, he keeps hope alive.
His brother, his wife and his uncle tell us about the hell they have faced since his capture.
Haykaz Hovhannisyan was born on May 8, 1992, aged 28 when he was captured by the Azerbaijani armed forces, leaving behind a wife and two children. His son resembles him, and his daughter, who hardly knew him, talks about him all the time.
In this tight-knit family, united against the misfortune that has befallen them, memory and hope are the daily driving forces, and the name of the father held captive is a constant topic of conversation.
Flora, his wife, tells us: “When night falls, it's impossible for me to close my eyes. All I do is think about him, locked between 4 walls. How does he feel? She relives the memory of a hasty birth without her husband present to welcome their second child. “Haykaz was able to return after 20 days to finally meet our little girl. He was covered in the blood of his friends and told me he couldn't hold the child in his arms in that state”. Flora and her brother hoped that he would finally be able to stay with them. Physically weakened but courageous at heart, he had to leave with the hope of a speedy return.
Haykaz Hovhannisyan's family were the last people to communicate with the group of 62 soldiers who were taken away. The last call was made by his brother at 6.30pm on December 13, 2020. Moments later, they officially became Azerbaijani prisoners of war.
He describes his older brother as a manwho“does things the right way”. He works the land, protects his family from want, and his absence is felt every second. His uncle describes "the hell they've been going through every day ” for the past 3 years. Troubled by this situation, and unable to understand why it has come to this, he recounts with a touch of humor how Haykaz learns Armenian from the Azeris who are holding him captive.
In brief telephone exchanges and a few letters, all under very tight surveillance, there is no room for talk about the reality on either side, just reassuring words aimed at boosting morale. “Everyone knows it, but it feels good,” lets out the brother with a sigh.
After Haykaz's capture, his family discovers the situation via a video circulating on social networks. Flora shows me images of her husband with other Armenian soldiers, forced to say at gunpoint that “Nagorno-Karabakh belongs to Azerbaijan”. The images are heavy, the sound of his voice echoes in the silence of the room, his mother's eyes fill.
Her brother recalls that when they saw these images, their feelings were confused. They were torn between the joy of knowing he was alive and the shock of this new ordeal awaiting Haykaz.
He would later learn that Haykaz had been sentenced to 6 years.
Flora sent her husband photos of her children, so that every morning, the POW greets his family, talks to them and wishes them a good night. His wife tells us that it's these little things that keep him going. She says of her son, Koryun: “When his father left, he wore military uniform. After he left, my son would run up and hug every soldier he saw, thinking it was his father”.
When asked what support this close-knit family could offer, they want nothing. “We want nothing but the return of our Haykaz. No money, no possessions, no anything. Nothing will fill this void. We want him back.”
Patricia Tanielyan for LIBERTAS
October 1st 2023