A portrait woven from the memories of Hanganak’s team and those who loved her
We first met Tikin Lusik in 2016, when Hanganak’s Shushi program began under the sponsorship of Armenian-American philanthropist Zaven Ken Darian. She immediately stood out—her childlike sincerity, gentle humor, and endlessly kind eyes left a lasting impression. She came to us through a list of isolated elders provided by the Ministry of Social Affairs, but she quickly became family.
Tikin Lusik was born in 1934 in the heroic village of Karin Tak in the Shushi region, into a hardworking peasant family with seven children (five girls and two boys). As the second eldest, she completed eight years of schooling in the village and began working at 15 to support her family. Later, she moved to Stepanakert and worked at the local garment factory. When her sister—a nurse at Stepanakert’s Dermatology Clinic—secured her a position there as an orderly, Lusik gladly accepted.
In the 1970s, she married and moved to Arinj village in Kotayk, Armenia. It was her husband’s second marriage; his first wife had passed away, leaving behind two young sons—the younger just four years old. Though Tikin Lusik never had biological children, she raised her stepsons as her own, loving them fiercely.
During the First Artsakh War, both sons went to the front. After losing her husband in 1991, Lusik returned to Artsakh to be closer to her family, especially her boys. In 1992, following Shushi’s liberation, she moved there to be near her spiritual anchor — Ghazanchetsots Cathedral. She lived a life of prayer and faith, but fate was cruel: her eldest son died in the war, and later, she lost her second son too. Left alone, she endured with quiet strength.
We met Tikin Lusik when she was 82. Despite her age, she was one of Hanganak’s most active beneficiaries—attending events, visiting our Shushi office for supplies, and calling to ask about upcoming concerts or excursions. In Shushi, she was cared for by our team member Gyulchora; after the 2020 war, Yermonya took over her care in Stepanakert. Flipping through old photos of Artsakh, we’d often spot her—modest, calm, impeccably dressed. She rarely spoke of herself but grew close to Hanganak’s team, especially Lina, whom she jokingly called “our daughter-in-law” (Lina’s husband is originally from Shushi).
After the forced displacement, she moved to her niece’s home in Kotayk, which opened its doors not only to Tikin Lusik but to 10 other displaced relatives. They gave her the sunniest room, closest to the bathroom. Every visit there became an event—filled with Artsakh memories, lively conversations, unshakable faith in return, and, of course, delicious hospitality.
Nurse Anush visited her regularly. Having passed her 90th year, Tikin Lusik never quite recovered from last winter’s pneumonia, which ultimately confined her to bed. During our team’s visits to Kotayk, we made sure to see her—though Anush’s care was unwavering, Tikin Lusik still brightened whenever Lina arrived, playfully calling her “our daughter-in-law.” Our last meeting was in March; by April, she was gone.
In our memories, she remains—her hands folded in prayer, her eyes alight with stories of Artsakh, her belief in return unshaken. May she rest peacefully, our dear Tikin Lusik…