Two Coffins, Three Suitcases, and a Bicycle: The Human Cost of Artsakh’s 2023 Forced Displacement

This article presents the heartbreaking stories of mothers and families who were forced to leave their homes in Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) during the 2023 war. The Armenian Report is proud to share the work of Hayk Harutyunyan, who documented these personal journeys, showing how ordinary lives were uprooted by Azerbaijani aggression. Through these stories, we see the immense courage and resilience of those affected, shows the human cost of Azerbaijan’s military attacks on Artsakh. Each story reflects not only loss and displacement but also the enduring connection to their homeland, the culture of Artsakh, and the families left behind.

Hayk Harutyunyan writes:

When we were getting ready to leave the house on September 25, 2023, I noticed several suitcases and bags placed in the entrance. At that moment, I realized that my entire 21 years of life fit into them. Last year, remembering that day, I decided to start this small project — to see what other people’s lives fit into when they had to leave Artsakh.

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Alla Stepanyan is a single mother who lost her two sons in the one-day war of 2023.

Alla was born in Mataghis. After the 2020 war, she and her sons, 21-year-old Samvel and 19-year-old Arsen, were forced to move to Martakert. Since 2006, Alla had served in the Defense Army of Artsakh as a division signal operator. When the 2023 war began, her sons were also serving in the Defense Army.

“When the war started, we were on combat duty. Part of our division was already at the positions, while the rest was raised to the front by alarm. We stayed at the military unit. The first thing I tried to do was call my sons. After many attempts, I couldn’t reach Arsen, and on the 19th at 1:30 p.m. I was told that the enemy had captured Chankatagh, the position Arsen was holding. Then I immediately called Samvel. He told me he had just spoken with Arsen and that everything was fine. That day, until 8:30 p.m., I was in touch with Samvel. Later, several planes moved in their direction, and the connection was cut off,” Alla recalls.

Alla spent the whole night at the military unit without any information about her sons. On the morning of September 20th, nothing had changed. The war continued, the bombings did not stop, and there was still no news from her sons. When a ceasefire was announced at noon on the 20th, Alla tried to contact them, hoping for some information through a phone call or from someone else.

With no news of her sons, on the evening of September 20 at 10 p.m., Alla went to the commander of the military unit, asking him to bring Samvel down from the positions to help find Arsen, with whom they had been unable to establish contact for two days. The commander already knew about Samvel’s death but stayed silent, sending Alla home and telling her that her son would come in the morning.

On the morning of September 21, Samvel’s body was brought to the Martakert hospital morgue.

“Not hearing from Samvel in the morning, my mother went to the homes of Samvel’s fellow servicemen who lived in our neighborhood. When they saw my mother, they began to cry, and from there we understood that Samvel had been killed,” Alla says.

On September 22 at 6:30 a.m. they learned about Arsen’s death too.

As soon as Samvel’s body was taken down from the positions, it was brought to Stepanakert; then on September 24, Alla and her family left Martakert. Until September 27, Alla had no news about Arsen’s body. During that time she had appealed to almost everyone—from the commander of the military unit to the Human Rights Defender—but nothing helped. On September 27 at 5:00 p.m., the rescue service informed Alla that Arsen’s body had been found.

Early on the morning of September 28, Alla set off for Yerevan with the bodies of her fallen sons. On October 9, Samvel and Arsen were buried at Yerablur. To this day Alla spends every day at her sons’ graves—regardless of the weather—because life has lost its meaning for her. There is no one left for whom she is willing to work, earn money, or do anything.

“I brought my life here in two closed coffins,” Alla says. 

Alla now lives in Yerevan, in a rented apartment where she is almost never present. Every morning she goes to Yerablur and spends her entire day there.

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Ernna’s Escape: What a Mother and Her Children Carried From Artsakh

Ernna Verdyan is a single mother from Stepanakert. She lived with her two children and her mother. Her children, Vruyr and Vanessa, are 13 and 16 years old.

“About half an hour before the war began, I was warned at work that there was tension on the border, the enemy was preparing for an attack, and I was sent home. I went to my friend’s shop to wait for Vanessa, so that after her classes we could go home together. As soon as the shelling of Stepanakert started, I ran out of the shop toward the school, while Vanessa was running toward the shop. We met on the way, held hands, and went home together. Vruyr and my mother were standing in the entrance of the building,” Ernna recalls.

They left Artsakh on September 27 in their neighbor’s UAZ and Niva cars. With them they took three suitcases of clothes, two sets of dishes, and Vruyr’s bicycle, which was placed on top of the neighbor’s car at the last moment. They also carried many memories from Artsakh: the children’s medals from karate competitions, Vanessa’s drawings, the flag of Artsakh, two cups with Artsakh ornaments, three lighters from Vruyr’s collection, their grandfather’s rosary, and the house key.

“On my last evening in Artsakh, I went out to ride my bicycle. On my way home, I saw a stone lying in the yard and picked it up to take with me. I keep it now in a bag together with the other memories we brought,” says Vruyr.

Ernna now lives in Dilijan with her mother and Vruyr, in a rented apartment, while Vanessa lives and studies in Yerevan at AYB School.

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If We Die, At Least Together: One Mother’s Story From the 2023 Artsakh War.

Gohar Baghdasaryan is from Martuni, Artsakh. She lived in her four bedroom apartment and worked in the rescue service as a dispatcher. She is a single mother with two children: 9-year-old Viktoria and 7-year-old Gor.

“When Vika came home from school with her friend, my mother fried the last three potatoes we had. Just as we sat down to eat, the shelling of the city began, and those potatoes stayed on the table, untouched,” Gohar recalls.

When the war began, Gor was outside in the yard. Gohar immediately ran out, barely found Gor, who had turned pale with fear, and took him and Viktoria with her to her workplace, thinking: “If we are going to die, at least let us die together.”

Throughout the war, Gohar stayed at her workplace with her children, continuing her service to the homeland while keeping the children by her side. She could not leave either her job or her children. Gohar’s mother stayed at home.

On September 27, Gohar left Artsakh with her mother and children in a colleague’s Ford truck.

“There were 18 people in the vehicle. There were no seats, and none of us could take much with us. I managed to take three bags, filled with whatever I could — mostly the children’s winter clothes,” Gohar says.

Now they live in Dilijan, in a rented apartment. Gohar works as a manicurist, and her mother, Marietta, is a mathematics lecturer. Gor plays football, and Vika does weightlifting. She won second place in an international weightlifting competition.

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