Turkey doesn't 'take care' of Mount Ararat

By Anahit Voskanyan

My first shock came when I learned that climbing Mount Ararat takes three days.

Until then, I had only seen the smiling faces and fluttering Armenian flags in summit photos, never thinking about what that actually means. Then it hit me: three days on the mountain means no one can go without using the bathroom. Suddenly, the romantic image of the climb lost its glow.

So, to reach Ararat’s sacred peak, every climber turns it into an open-air restroom unwittingly.

I consoled myself thinking, “Perhaps nature will cleanse itself.”

But then I came across a video by Tatar mountaineer Bulat Zakirov, filmed on Ararat, and realized the truth was far worse: Ararat is turning into a dump site. The mules descend empty, while the trash stays behind. Even the mountaineer himself was shocked.

“It’s dirtier than in Nepal,” Zakirov said.

Turkey spares no effort to prevent Armenians from “claiming” Ararat, yet doesn’t seem to value or protect the mountain that stands within its borders.

For Armenians, Ararat has always been and will remain a towering symbol of our homeland. To us, it is a reminder of loss; to Turkey, it will always be a reminder of being outsiders on that land, a reminder that even the Armenian Genocide couldn’t make them truly belong there.

Perhaps it is that nomadic spirit that drives Turkey’s endless hunger for expansion, its dream of a “Greater Turan”.

And the same applies to Artsakh. No matter how much Aliyev and Azerbaijan celebrate their “victory”, they will never love Artsakh. They may build, demolish or showcase it, yet even in its current emptiness, Artsakh stands before them like Ararat, lodged in their throats.

And please don’t counter with “Well, what about us?” or “People don’t even care for each other — why should Turkey care for Ararat?”

These are not contradictions. They are connected.