I’m a Workaholic. It’s Like Alcoholic, But For Work

— I don’t like agriculture. Sow the seeds, water, treat, wait for them to grow… It’s not for me. I’m drawn to the wild. Everything is ready to be harvested. You walk around, find what’s there, gather it, and come home.

— I’m a workaholic. It’s like alcoholic, but for work.

Anahit, 62, has been foraging in the mountains of Shamshadin for years now. For her, it’s more than a way to make a living — it’s a lifestyle. “This is a poor region,” she says. “You can’t support a household by vending or wage labor.” She has tried many things in the past: running a small shop, keeping a cow and selling dairy, baking pastries for nearby stores. None of these worked. “The most reliable thing here,” she says, “is collecting wild herbs and berries. You can’t go bankrupt, there are no taxes to deal with — it’s just you and wherever your feet take you.”

Anahit learned the art of gathering from Tamar, a woman from Vanadzor whom she calls “the ancestor of our valley.” Tamar taught her and others how to identify and distinguish the plants of the region.

Shamshadin has faced uncertainty since the 2020 ceasefire in the aftermath of the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War. With its economy shaped by nearly three decades of militarization, the transition to peacetime has left a significant vacuum. In 2022, Public development agencies recommend tourism services as alternatives to the Army jobs, and some local youth got creative — they offer horseback riding tours, ancestral cuisine, craft-making and other services. And yet, the promised wave of tourists never arrived: the town remains isolated, with its winding road to Yerevan is challenging; fog, snow, and rockfalls make the journey risky.

There used to be a factory called “Tashir Textile” in Berd. About 300 people sewed gloves there. There are different versions of why the factory was shut down last year. Some say the factory is under repair, others blame the fall of the ruble’s exchange rate. Working conditions at Tashir Textile were typical: people worked 12-hour shifts with only 20-30 minute breaks, night shifts were unpaid, and the monthly salary was around 80,000 drams (about 200 dollars). But locals accepted even those conditions. It’s hard to complain when unemployment is the only alternative.

After the factory closed, most workers turned to foraging. The land in Shamshadin is poor: it doesn’t hold moisture and requires constant irrigation. Farming here is difficult, but the forest provides plenty of resources year-round. In the 1980s, the forestry department planted 3,000 hazelnut trees—this is public property that anyone can use. In winter, people gather mallow and nettle. Then comes the season for Solomon’s seal, followed by lilies. “The seasons change back-to-back. Right now, it’s the season for walnuts and strawberries. Later, wild strawberries will ripen: they’re small but very tasty. After that come blueberries, blackberries, hazelnuts, wild pears and apples, which they use to make vodka. Then come medlar, rose hips, and cornelian cherries.”

A few years ago, Anahit learned that mlmla (local name for blueberry) grows on Mount Murghuz. She went looking for it with her sister. Anahit found the first bush. They gathered some and sent it to a lab, where it was confirmed to be truly wild blueberries. Since it’s the most expensive berry, they decided to focus on it. “I’m not a big fan of blueberries — I don’t like them, but I know they’re healthy, so I eat them anyway.”

Through foraging, Anahit raised four children and put three of them through higher education — “exclusively thanks to nature,” as she says. According to her, life in Berd used to be easier: you could go foraging one day and rest for two or three. Now, to earn enough, she has to go into the mountains five to six days a week. Most of the frustration with the authorities comes down to tax policy: small and medium-sized businesses can’t bear the burden, prices keep rising, and people are forced to juggle multiple jobs.

Anahit’s father and grandfather were craftsmen who often worked with Azerbaijanis. The Ikarus buses from Yerevan used to pass through the Tovuz station. People from Shamshadin would travel to Azerbaijani markets to buy cheap vegetables, construction materials, and raw goods. After independence, those roads closed, industry came to a halt, and Shamshadin turned into a berd (Berd — the name of the administrative center, which means “fortress” in Armenian).

The famous slogan by Nikol Pashinyan — “No job? Go pick greens” — is often repeated in the town of Berd. There are few job opportunities. The main employer is the army: men sign up as contract soldiers, while women work as cooks, cleaners, salesclerks, or administrative staff in military units.

Many families have fruit orchards, but selling the harvest is difficult. Berd is isolated from the rest of Armenia, and it’s not profitable for buyers to travel that far. No matter what job someone might have, they’re often forced to go foraging in the fields and forests on the side. The Prime Minister’s famous line is used to shame the “lazy,” but everyone knows you can’t revive an isolated region’s economy with berries alone. People dream of restoring the lost industries and reestablishing economic ties.

We went strawberry picking with Anahit. She had already asked the shepherds in advance what had ripened and what hadn’t. She knows the places by heart from past years. When we reached the patch, Anahit started showing how to pick ripe berries without harming the others, where to hang the bucket so your hands stay free.

“I don’t consider this work — for me, it’s pleasure. Being in nature… it’s two in one. I have no desire to travel somewhere as a tourist, to ‘see the world.’ Nature fully satisfies that wish for me. My daughter says, ‘I’ll take you to France, show you around.’ Not interested at all! I would go to Jerusalem, yes — but there’s war now, it’s scary. Jerusalem, Nazareth… places of Jesus. Nothing else interests me. Maybe Egypt, to see the pyramids.”

Before going to bed, Anahit listens to the news and music.
“Songs from my time: Smokie, Chris Norman, Joe Cocker. I’m obsessed with Charles Aznavour, Demis Roussos, ABBA.”

Marusya Sepkhanyan, Ani Tadevosyan