Lusine and Rasim studied together at music college. Madly in love, Rasim did not care that his beloved was Armenian. Her religion did not matter to him; neither did her being engaged. Telling their relatives was not an option. Rasim’s family, who lived in Lenkoran, in the south of Azerbaijan, would never have understood. Lusine’s mother and Grair’s mother Nina were as close as sisters, and since Lusine’s father had died, Grair’s father, ‘Uncle’ Vazgen, had cared for her as if she were his own daughter.

Lusine and Rasim decided to get married without telling the three families, and then to run away together.

"For a long time our families wouldn’t speak to us. And neither would Raik’s family," Lusine recalls.

The young couple set up home, renting a small room without any help from their relatives. Rasim got a job and continued studying.

Before long though, Armenia and Azerbaijan found themselves at war over Nagorno Karabakh. In 1988, just after Lusine and Rasim had their first child, Lusine’s relatives were forced to leave Azerbaijan.

Understanding that this was not a time for holding grudges, Lusine’s mother came to visit the young couple and to see her granddaughter for the first time.

‘I won’t lie – I had no idea that the situation was as serious as it turned out to be. I was convinced that all the problems would be resolved and that everyone would return home. Mother thought it would all blow over too, although she still didn’t want to leave me. She kept telling me to take our child and come away with her. I didn’t. But the situation which we thought was temporary, has been this way for almost thirty years now.’

All of Lusine’s relatives fled from Khutor village, leaving her one of their two flats.

"My mother and the rest of my family settled in Rostov. The war came to an end, but it was ages before we saw each other – we just corresponded. One day we got a letter from my mother, telling us that Grair’s younger brother Robert had been killed in the war. We had always called him Robik. Later, my husband’s nephew was killed. I had been so fond of him! My husband’s brother was wounded. I was devastated by the news, equally upset about Robik and my husband’s relatives. All this just proved to me, once again, how pointless war is."

In 1988 there was thought to be around two hundred thousand Armenians living in Baku. Today, officials say there are just thirty thousand in the whole of Azerbaijan. Most of them are women who could not leave their families, their husbands, children and grandchildren. Many decided to change their name so as not to put themselves at risk.

When Armenians fled Khutor village they were replaced by Azerbaijanis from Armenia. By that time Lusine had officially changed her name to Lamia. Nevertheless, her neighbours found out that she was Armenian.

"At first people would stare at me, and I would hear them gossiping about me. I understood them in a way – they had been forced to flee their homes. But it didn’t last. As soon as they came to know me better, our relationship improved. And one Azerbaijani woman from Armenia became an even closer friend to me than aunt Nina is to my mother."

Following the conflict over Nagorno Karabakh, Azerbaijan took in around a million people: refugees from Armenia, IDPs from the conflict zone, and a special group known as ‘Erazi’ - Azerbaijanis from Yerevan. In Baku they became known for their capacity to assimilate and their tightly knit communities. Arriving in the Azerbaijani capital, they formed close groups, supporting each other in everything.

In the early 1990s, Rasim’s elder brother Rauf and his wife Rafiga bought a house in Khutor village and moved to Baku. Rasim and Lamia had just had their second daughter. Rauf and Rafiga had been married for some time, but had not yet had children.

‘They really wanted a child, but God did not grant them their wish, so we gave them our second daughter. She was named Amina. We went on to have two more daughters and a son. But however many children a mother has, there is always room in her heart for more, and I came to regret our gesture bitterly. I was not able to take our daughter back: she had been adopted. My relationship with my brother-in-law got worse until finally, in 1996, we sold the house and moved to Lenkoran. It was mainly because of all these issues.’

Story Two: Amina

For nineteen years Amina thought that Rauf and Rafiga were her real parents.

"My mother and father loved me so much it would never have occurred to me that they were not my real parents. Sadly, father died when I was fourteen. My mother and I were left all alone, and this brought us even closer together."

When she was nineteen, Amina found out who her real parents were. She says this was the worst moment of her life. In order to explain, she told us the story of her first love.

"I was seventeen and Ali was twenty. He was our neighbours’ son. We were in love. His mother and grandmother came to seek my hand in marriage. My mother said neither yes nor no. “My daughter is still young,” she said. “Let her carry on with her studies, and your son can make himself useful too. If, several years from now, they are still determined to marry, then so be it – I will not object.” Those were wise words."

"Had my mother forbidden me to get married, we would probably have rebelled and got married anyway. We might even have run off together. And we would have ended up regretting it, because several years later, we realized just how different we were. Our paths ended up diverging, although neither of us bore a grudge. He is married now, and so am I; both of us are happy. I have a very high opinion of him: he is an excellent man."

That day, when Amina found out the truth, Ali tried to protect her from it.

"I was nineteen years old. Ali and I had already broken up by then, and were just friends. I was coming back from school one day, when an old man from Armenia stopped me in the courtyard. He was one of our neighbours. He was said to be cantankerous and quarrelsome, with a sharp tongue."

""Tell me, how is your Armenian mother?" he asked. I couldn’t make out what he was talking about. “You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that old man,” I replied. “Perhaps you’re Armenian yourself!""

"At this point, Ali came outside and shouted at the old man to leave. He also called to me to go home and not listen. I felt confused. The old man wouldn’t stop. “Your mother is Armenian!” he carried on. “I’m not lying, am I!” “My mother is Tatar, stop talking nonsense!” I replied. “I’m not talking about Rafiga,” he shouted. “I’m talking about Lamia. She’s your real mother, and she is Armenian. She gave you to Rafiga.””

"I felt the ground disappear from under my feet and froze. I must have started screaming, because our neighbours came running outside and hurled themselves at the old man. They took me home."

Amina had to start seeing a counsellor. It took her a long time to get better.

"That was the hardest time of my life. I had found out two things about myself that I could never have imagined, even in my worst nightmares. I found out that I had been adopted, and that I was half-Armenian. Ali and his family had always known. They had lived in Khutor village for years, even back in the times when it was mostly Armenian. Ali simply loved me for being me. This is why I will always feel grateful to him."

Like her biological parents, Amina is a musician. She plays the piano and teaches at a music college.

As far as her parents are concerned, Amina says that she has only one mother – the woman who raised her. She sees her biological brothers and sisters as cousins – she cannot help it, she says.

Amina now has two children of her own. Her family know that she was adopted, but they do not know that Amina’s mother was Armenian.

"They might not feel that it is a problem – who knows? But my mother did not want to tell them, and she asked me not to either."

Born after the ceasefire was agreed, Amina says she does not know much about the conflict over Nagorno Karabakh. In the past it did not interest her. Finding out that she belonged to both sides, however, made her take a fresh look at the conflict.

"My biological parents loved each other, and still do, today, after all these years. Ali fell in love with me, even though he knew everything about me. Ethnicity has nothing to do with love. It’s such a shame that people often choose hatred and aggression, instead of love. No one benefits from war, apart from the politicians. I wish people would realize this, and never forget it."

The Constitution of Azerbaijan states that all citizens of the country have equal rights, independent of their ethnicity. Azerbaijan’s Criminal Code stipulates that those who seek to incite ethnic hatred should be punished. Despite this, the division between the communities, and the unresolved conflict make the life of ethnic Armenians in Azerbaijan uncomfortable, to put it mildly.