Tzav bakery supplies eight villages cut off from the rest of Armenia

The bakery in Tzav, a village in Syunik province in southern Armenia, supplies lavash (an Armenian flatbread) and other breads to eight nearby villages.

After Azerbaijani troops occupied the Kapan-Chakaten road in November 2021, the villages of Tzav, Nerkin Hand, Shikahogh, Srashen, Chakaten and Shishkert were virtually cut off from the rest of the country. An alternative route was opened later, but it is almost impassable in winter and is still being improved.

The Tzav village bakery, which previously served the towns of Kapan and Kajaran, now supplies bread to these six villages.

The bakery works every day. the the cowcooked over a wood fire thunder (a cylindrical clay oven), is known locally for its freshness and flavor.

Arsen Aghajanyan, who moved to Russia in the 1990s, returned to his native Tzav and founded the bakery in April 2016.

“I used to teach people, now I give them bread,” says Aghajanyan. Before moving to Russia, he taught biology at the village school and served as its director.

Melanya is the head baker. She now teaches the complicated craft of slapping dough in the hot thunder to new workers. Throughout the 2020 Karabakh War, Melanya and the others continued to bake bread. She speaks little of herself, but speaks of her three sons who served as guards in the village.

Parzanush, called Parzik for short, came to Tzav 32 years ago and stayed there. She’s seen here feeding the balls of dough through a rolling pin.

Knar is known as a quick worker. Our camera struggled to capture the movements of this cheerful woman.

The bakery’s working day begins at 7:30 p.m. and ends late at night.

Tamara and Lusineh are baking bread in the next room.

50 to 100 loaves and matnakache (a traditional Armenian sourdough bread) are baked daily.

In 2020, Knar also defended the borders of his village.

Elmira’s mood differs from the others. Tigrane, his eldest son who serves in the army, recently returned on leave.

When asked what is missing in the border village, the women answer that they don’t need anything. They just want the government to give machine guns to soldiers and the army, as long as the guns work.

While it’s true that baking bread every day is difficult and tedious, it’s hard not to be a little jealous of Parzik encountering this scene on his way home from work.

Arsen loads the car with freshly baked bread every morning at eight o’clock.

The bakery operates while the rest of the village is in a winter sleep.

Even in Yerevan, you won’t often see bread packed with such care and hygiene.

Arsen delivers the bread himself. The bakery is looking for a driver, but he says it will be difficult to find someone local.

The inhabitants of the villages religiously await the arrival of the gray bread truck. They stock up on bread because the truck only makes the trip every two or three days given the bad road conditions.

We are on the new Tchakaten-Kapan alternative road. The weather is on our side. It’s morning. The ground is frozen and does not turn into mud. It’s a relatively easy ride.