The entrepreneurs of Aleppo Market in Yerevan.

Vahram Der Ohanian left Aleppo ten months ago with his wife and son. After a missile destroyed his store in Nor Kyugh, he opened another store in another neighborhood, but that was bombed too. Not only did he lose his store in that attack, he also lost friends. And that was the last straw. Vahram left behind his home, his business, and a whole way of life.

“I left everything behind and came to Yerevan,” Vahram says as he slices tomatoes in his tiny little shop that sells sandwiches, lahmajun, humus and other Middle Eastern dishes. “The first few months were really difficult, it’s very expensive, but we decided to open this small store,” Vahram explains adding that taxes are high and besides paying rent for the booth, he also was forced to pay an additional charge for two small tables and two refrigerators where customers could purchase cold drinks.

Vahram is one of a handful of Syrian-Armenians who have opened up small businesses in an underpass near the Hanrapetutyun Metro in downtown Yerevan. The small line of shops has been come to be known as Aleppo Market. Here you can find anything from lingerie to Middle Eastern spices to a single-chair barbershop.

Since the start of the Syrian conflict in 2011 more than 200,000 people have died, more than a third of the population are internally displaced and more than 3 million people have become refugees. Many Syrian-Armenians who fled the country found refuge in Lebanon and Armenia; today, approximately 12,000 Syrian-Armenians live in Armenia. Many are struggling to simply get by.

Lena Shamlian.

Lena Shamlian had a three-floor boutique in Aleppo called Boutique Lena where she sold all kinds of lingerie. The popular shopping destination and Lena’s livelihood all came crashing down when three rockets landed unceremoniously on her boutique. “I came [to Yerevan] the end of 2012 for one month to receive my passport,” Lena explains. “And then the airport shut down. It was supposed to reopen two months later. We’re still waiting.”

Lena and her sister had no choice but to start over. “My sister and I, hand-in-hand, began working,” Lena says to rebuild their lives. After realizing that there was no way she could return to Aleppo, Lena found a job as a cosmetologist in Yerevan the first two years and then decided she wanted to start a business again, but it hasn’t been an easy journey. “Life here is difficult compared to Aleppo. Our income doesn’t match our expenses; that is why we are tired,” she says and adds. “We have our friends, a social life, we are good, happy but our pain is great.”

Here at Aleppo Market, Lena says it’s still too soon to say what the prospects for success will be as she opened her little boutique only three months ago. She says that no one has helped her with any of this. “I pay rent for my home, I pay rent for this store, we have had no help from the state -- we’ve done all this by ourselves,” she notes as a look of sadness quickly passes over her otherwise twinkling eyes. “The rent here in the underpass is cheaper,” she says almost ashamed thinking about what she used to have back in Syria compared to this cramped space she occupies today.

But Lena is hopeful. “We can’t cover our expenses just yet, we’re a small business, it will take time,” she smiles and points to a wall where she sells undershirts made in Armenia. “See, these are all Armenian made,” she says proudly.

Bedros Kirazian.

The smell of spices from the store next to Lena’s lures us in. Bedros Kirazian, originally from Aleppo moved to Armenia with his family three years ago. He’s been operating his store, which was slightly larger than the others at Aleppo Market here at the underpass for the past eight months. He was the first Syrian-Armenia to set up shop near the metro station. He’s thankful for the chance to work and make an income.

“Thank God, we’re working,” he says. “We have new products that weren’t available before here; we have three kinds of zehter, dozens of spices, pepper paste, tomato paste, olives,” he says pointing to the products lined along shelves mounted on the wall of his store. He imports the products from different places - Syria, Dubai, Lebanon. He seems content but there’s a certain nervous energy about the uncertainty of having to start all over again, in a new country whose laws and customs are unfamiliar.

“I had a small table at Vernissage for several months. I built up a clientele, and when I opened this store, they followed me here. So, I’m doing OK,” he says. The other tenants in Aleppo Market are still struggling according to Bedros. “Those who have just opened are finding it difficult. Thank God, I’m doing well,” he says.

Bedros was clear about his needs and expectations. “I am renting my home, renting this store, I pay my taxes, supplies, everything,” he says. “All we want is some advertising. We’ve spoken to many journalists and told them the same thing - we need a sign for the Aleppo Market at the entrance so people know we’re here.”

Kevork Sukiassian

Sporting a large scissor tattoo on his forearm, Syrian-Armenian hairdresser Kevork Sukiassian has also been in Armenia for the last three years. “I’ve had good days here. It’s a beautiful city. I love my country, my homeland and especially because I can work in my field,” Kevork says as he cuts the hair of a young client.

Kevork started apprenticing as a hairdresser at the age of 13 in Aleppo. He has been in the business now for nine years, a long time for a such a young professional. His parents sent him to Armenia in 2012 when his time had come for conscription in the Syrian Army. “I came by myself to escape the army,” he says as he concentrates on his client.

He’s been at Aleppo Market for only two weeks. “Thank God, it’s good,” he says. “My customers are from Syria. I used to cut their hair in Aleppo. They’ve all moved here now, so everything is good.”

After working at another salon for two years, Kevork was able to save some money and wanted to start his own business. “I took a risk, but I think I can make it work,” he tells us.

And what about his not-so-long-ago life? “We had two homes, they were completely destroyed...Thank God, I’m happy. I’m happy to be working so that I can make ends meet.”

Vahram Der Ohanian.

We go back to see Vahram at his tiny shop on the corner of Aleppo Market and decide to eat lunch there. As he moves around expertly in his little space he says that the Armenians who know him from Aleppo come here to eat but that more and more locals are now frequenting his little stall.

“I work 12-13 hours a day to make ends meet. It’s hard. I have a 22-year-old son, he can’t make a decent living. My wife doesn’t work. She was a nurse in Aleppo but because she doesn’t have an Armenian diploma, they won’t give her a job,” he says.

I go to get some tan from the refrigerator. I walk back to his stand to pay for our lunch. “No, no,” he says waving his hand, “It’s on me.” I reject the offer, place my money on the counter, stand my ground and say, “No way.” He timidly takes the money and gives me my change.

I walk back to my office and wonder what fate has in store for the Armenians of the Middle East, for those Armenians who were forced to flee a brutal war they had nothing to do with...