Death on a Hot Midsummer's Day (On Humanity)

Photo by Lea_from_Armenia

The Yerevan Opera house is surrounded by a open air cafes and large bronze statues of artists. Occupying the south corner of France Square, the surrounding area is filled with people walking about, sitting at cafes, enjoying nearby restaurants, or a catching a show at the opera itself.

Mid-summer about seven years ago a friend of mine and I crossed the street heading north toward the Cascade, the gigantic staircase originally built as a World War II monument, now turned museum, which connects the upper and center portions of the city.

A crowd had gathered at the entrance of one the more fashionable open air cafes, Santa Fe, a a dress code enforcing, oligarch owned place lacking in taste. We pushed through the crowd, planning to use Santa Fe as a shortcut but stopped when we saw him.

An old man, probably in his seventies, dead on the floor.

Initially I thought he had fainted, but there was no breath. No pulse. No subtle movements to suggest he would stand shortly, find some shade, and laugh in embarrassment. 

He must have been there for a while.

At some point he stopped being a man. Cell phone cameras were going off, in rapid succession,young and old were reveling in his death. 

They were taking turns inserting themselves in the photo, patiently waiting for each other to finish in a form of structured chaos. . 

There was no sounds of an ambulance, no one moving him aside. No one took responsibility or dispersed the crowd.  This man's final moment was overrun by morbid curiosity, stripped of dignity.

No one cared.

I often think about that moment, his last moments of life,  his heart giving out, unable to articulate the pain and fear that is rushing through him as he lost control and fell. If he asked for help, no one heard him or came, leaving him collapsed near miniature steps that led into Sante Fe Cafe.

What were his last thoughts?

Did he leave anyone behind?

Who was this man that died on a hot midsummer's day?

I never learned; but his death is a constant reminder about how easy it is to to dehumanize someone and the ease with which we can become inhuman.