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Azernews presents an article titled 'A Story of Life' featuring an interview with Professor Ali Aliyev from Western Azerbaijan.

“My family was deported four times – my father witnessed all of them.”

Today, hundreds of thousands of Western Azerbaijanis carry in their memory an indelible chapter of history – deportations, massacres, the loss of their ancestral homeland, and a longing for return. This history is not merely a collection of personal memories; it represents the collective memory, identity, and rightful claims of an entire people.

Throughout the 20th century, Western Azerbaijanis were forcibly expelled multiple times from their native lands – present-day Armenia. Their voices – their stories of pain – must be told, recorded, and never forgotten.

One of those voices belongs to Aliyev Ali Abdulla, a professor at the National Defense University, PhD in Philology, recipient of the “Golden Pen” award, and author of eight books. His family endured the suffering of every wave of deportation throughout the 20th century. He himself has become both a witness and chronicler of this tragedy.

This interview is not just a reflection of one man’s life journey; it encapsulates the blood-stained memory of a people, their longing for their ancestral lands, their belief in return, and a call for the restoration of historical justice.

– Professor Ali, you are originally from Western Azerbaijan. Your family witnessed multiple deportations firsthand. How have those painful years left their mark on your family’s memory?

– I, Aliyev Ali Abdulla, was born in the village of Istisu in the Daralayaz region of Western Azerbaijan. Unfortunately, that beautiful land has now been occupied by Armenians and renamed the city of Jermuk.

Our family, for several generations, was forcibly expelled and deported from Western Azerbaijan—we were firsthand witnesses to these events. And this is not just our pain; it is the pain of our entire people.

Throughout history, Azerbaijani Turks—Western Azerbaijanis—lived in their ancestral lands, but were subjected to forced deportations during different periods, especially under Tsarist Russia and Soviet rule. These deportations were carried out in various forms during both eras.

Following the signing of the Gulustan (1813) and Turkmenchay (1828) treaties, Armenians were systematically resettled from Iran, Turkiye, Syria, and other countries into the South Caucasus—particularly into strategically important regions. This relocation was aimed at disrupting the demographic balance in areas densely populated by Azerbaijani Turks.

– How did the deportations affect your family’s life?

– My family was deported four times — in 1905, 1918, 1948, and 1987. My father, Abdulla Aliyev, witnessed all of these deportations. He passed away at the age of 94.

My mother’s grandfather, Mr.Nasir, was killed by Armenians in 1918. He was shot dead by the son of Aleksan Hampan from the village of Erdapin in Daralayaz. My mother’s uncle, Gumushkhanali Vali, was murdered in his own home by an Armenian named Vago, who was supposedly his “friend,” along with Vago’s nephews. Their aim was to disarm him.

– What did you learn from people of that time? What remains in your childhood memories?

– When I was a student, I often spoke with my uncles, paternal relatives, and elderly villagers. I took notes of their stories. They always said that from the early 20th century, the Russians began provoking Armenians and inciting them against Azerbaijanis. Armenians were resettled in strategically important Azerbaijani villages with the goal of weakening the Azerbaijani population and creating chaos in the region.

My father used to say that our ancestors resisted the Russian Empire — they didn’t pay taxes, and sometimes they simply couldn’t. Our people lived in mountainous regions where agriculture was difficult, yields were low, and life was harsh. As a result, relations with the state were tense.

My father and uncle recalled that in those times, grain was harvested by hand. Sometimes it would snow unexpectedly, and the crops would be buried and rot under the snow before they could be collected. People couldn’t produce enough, and thus couldn’t pay their taxes. The state interpreted this as disobedience and began settling Armenians in those areas to stir unrest.

Hostility was sown between Armenians and Azerbaijanis, as if these two peoples could not live side by side. This eventually led to Azerbaijanis being displaced and driven from their lands.

– What can you tell us about the Daralayaz region?

– Daralayaz is a region of stunning natural beauty. It is often compared to Switzerland. Its landscape — valleys, mountains, springs, and healing plants — is incredibly rich. During times of famine, people survived on the herbs and fruits that grew there. This harsh environment shaped the people of Daralayaz into resilient and strong individuals.

My ancestors lived up to 106–110 years. My father passed away at 92, and my mother at 94. Yet the pain and consequences of deportation were a constant shadow over our people. Daralayaz is rich in both underground and above-ground resources. Its nature remains pure and untouched.

– What memories has your family shared about the massacres of 1905 and 1918?

– During the Armenian-Muslim clashes of 1905–1906, not only Baku, Shamakhi, and Guba were affected — many villages in Western Azerbaijan, especially in Daralayaz, were burned to the ground and people were brutally massacred.

People were impaled on bayonets, thrown off cliffs. Those cliffs are still known as “Bloody Rock.” In a place called Kotanli Gandara, there’s a site known as Bloody Lake — tied to the massacres of that era.

Folk laments and verses were passed down about this tragedy. In the spring, when the rivers swelled, people saw water flowing red — stained with the blood of innocent Azerbaijanis killed by Armenians.

I am dear to Bloody Lake,
Bloody valley, bloody lake
The Armenians did cruelty,
Blood cried, Bloody Lake.

In 1918, major massacres also took place.

After being driven out of Turkiye, Andranik’s armed band moved into the regions of Zangibasar, Vedibasar, and Daralayaz, where they began massacring Azerbaijanis. My father and grandfather witnessed these events firsthand. At the time, my father was 16 or 17 years old and took part in the resistance against Andranik’s forces. My grandfather served as the head of the weapons depot under Mr.Sultan.

They joined forces to defend the people of Daralayaz and Lachin. My grandfather would recount how, when Andranik’s forces attacked villages, they set homes on fire and slaughtered everyone, regardless of age. Only a few families managed to escape.

Some time later, once the situation had calmed slightly, my grandfather returned to the village. Together with other families, they rebuilt their homes and began restoring the village. Gradually, Muslim villages were revived, and the nomadic tribes returned each year to their ancestral lands, seasonal settlements, and mountain pastures.

– What was the situation like during the Soviet era?

– During the Soviet period, a certain degree of stability was established. But the trauma never truly disappeared. My father and uncle could never forget that night — the night they were forced to flee the village, and the day they returned only to find it reduced to ashes.

After the massacres, the people of Daralayaz were forcibly displaced. Some were sent to Kalbajar, then moved on to Yevlakh and Barda. Others settled in villages like Lachin, Aghbulag, Minkend, and Bozlu, as well as Gara Keshdi.

Over the years, some families from Daralayaz managed to return and gradually restore their ancestral villages.

– Could you speak about the deportations of 1948–1950?

– During those years, we were deported once again. Many people had already experienced displacement once before. Some could not bear it and died along the way. My mother used to say that many children lost their lives from hunger and thirst while traveling on those trains.

The elderly could not survive the journey — some passed away on the road and were buried near the railroad tracks. My father, Abdulla Aliyev, spent five years in exile. Under the leadership of Stalin and Mikoyan, native residents of Daralayaz and other Western Azerbaijani regions — including Vedi, Zangibasar, Zangazur, and Goycha — were deported from their ancestral lands under the guise of “voluntary resettlement.”

In their place, Armenians were brought in from Syria, Iran, Turkiye, and other regions. It was a deliberately calculated and deceptive policy.

– Was it possible to return after the deportation?

– Many of the Western Azerbaijanis who were forcibly resettled during Stalin’s deportations could not endure the harsher climate of the lowlands and died in large numbers. Starting around 1953–1954, some began to return slowly — but even that was not easy.

Upon returning, they were told that Armenians had already been settled in their homes. Those wishing to go back to their native lands sent telegrams to various government bodies, including to Khrushchev. I was about 7 or 8 years old at the time, and I remember those events clearly.

Eventually, a decision was made not to obstruct Azerbaijanis who wanted to return. As a result, many families made their way back — mine included. My father always used to say: “That land is ours. Our ancestors are buried there. We will return.”

After this wave of return, Armenians took a hardline nationalist stance against Azerbaijanis. Schools were not opened for Azerbaijani children, intellectuals were denied employment, and ethnic tensions were frequently stirred up deliberately.

- There are also very serious facts about the massacre that took place in Gumuskhana....

- Yes, in 1918 the largest massacre took place in the village of Gumuskhana. Armenians captured those who could not escape, beheaded them and killed them with axes and machetes. Women were stripped naked in the cold, thrown into bare fields, forcefully plucked barley and laughed at. There were no sickles, the barley was plucked by hand. The women's hands exploded, bones and stones cut their arms. There were survivors among them. They said the Armenians were playing a joke on us. They killed many people in Gumuskhana. This is a great tragedy. The Armenians threw the young men off the cliffs and enjoyed watching the eagles and crows fly over the corpses. They would bring their mothers and mock them, saying, “Your son has become food for the birds.” The mothers, unable to endure this cruelty, committed suicide. Many women threw themselves off cliffs to avoid capture by the Armenians and to protect their honor. This was inhuman cruelty. People had their foreheads shaved and their brains ripped out. They were made to swear that they boiled and ate brains. They said, “Let's eat the brains of Turks to become smarter.” It was not only physical genocide but also moral genocide. And these events have living witnesses. Once I managed to record their words on a tape recorder.

– You personally witnessed the events during the 1987 deportation. How do you remember that time?

– Yes, at that time, I was working as a schoolteacher and also writing as a correspondent for the Soviet Armenian newspaper. The Armenians were using a new method then. They would gather the intellectuals and say, “Leave, abandon this place.” They spread fear by saying, “You will be massacred here.” They sent bearded, unfamiliar men into the villages. People were beaten and insulted on the roads. Through threats and intimidation, they forced us to leave the land of our ancestors.

They carried out propaganda, claiming, “We do not know who these bearded men are. We cannot use force against them. It’s best if you leave on your own. We are not in a position to protect you. Later it will be too late. For now, we can provide you with some trucks—leave without delay.” So we were forced to abandon our homeland in tears.

– What were your elders’ and parents’ final wishes?

– My father and mother’s greatest wish was to be buried in their homeland when they passed away. My father used to say, “I am resting here temporarily, but my spirit remains in the motherland.” They lived with that one wish. My father told me many times, “When I die, bury me there, beside my mother and grandfather, in our native soil. This is a sacred duty.” My mother would repeat the same wish.

But for years, it was impossible to return. Only once was I able to visit our native village, and I brought back some of its soil to scatter over my parents’ graves. If it is ever destined for me to return, I have vowed to move their graves to our homeland and free their spirits from exile.

This story is published as part of the “A Story of Pain” project implemented by the "Citizen" Public Union with support from the State Support Agency for Non-Governmental Organizations.