In Their Shoes: The 7 Steps of Starting Over Following Forced Displacement from Artsakh
In September 2023, over 100,000 Armenians were forcibly uprooted from Artsakh. This wasn’t just a migration, it was ethnic cleansing. Families ran for their lives, leaving behind homes, land, history, and the futures they were building.
It didn’t trend. It barely made headlines. In this article, we guide you step-by-step through the costs, red-tape, and challenges that displaced people from Artsakh navigate. It’s not a light read, but it is an important one.
1. You Flee. You Register. You Wait.
After surviving war, 9 months of blockade, and years of illegal attacks, you cross into Armenia with your family of four with nothing but a tote bag full of important documents and some photos. You register with the Armenian Government at the Registration Station in Goris as a “forcibly displaced person from Artsakh.” You show them your official Artsakh residency documents, and are issued a plastic card identifier that serves as the official documentation of your displaced status. This card is essential for accessing various services and support, like accommodation and medical care. You are promised a one-time bank transfer payment of 100,000 AMD ($255) per person to support your resettlement journey.
If you're lucky, someone in your family has a couch for you to crash on. If not, you are assigned to a hotel, gymnasium, or community center for temporary shelter. You take a bus to your shelter and finally lie your head down to rest. You’re exhausted.
2. You’re On Your Own Now
Your shelter in Goris is shutting down in a week. You move in with your sister-in-law in Ararat while you search for work and permanent housing. With a background in business, your hope is to settle in Yerevan and find a job downtown.
For now, your family receives ֏50,000 ($125) per person each month, $500 total, to help cover rent. But rent has skyrocketed. A basic apartment in Yerevan now costs ֏200,000–֏400,000 ($500–$1,000). Even outer areas like Erebuni have seen prices triple due to rising demand from Russians and Ukrainians escaping war.
Landlords hike prices daily and many refuse to rent to displaced people, fearing they won’t be able to pay once the benefits run out.
3. You Want to Work—But You Can’t Afford To
Jobs are scarce, especially outside major cities. Your degree doesn’t help much in the village, where a day’s labor pays ֏2,000 ($5) under the table- if you take it, you risk losing all your benefits, including healthcare. In Yerevan, retail jobs pay around ֏110,723 ($286) per month, but require official registration.
There’s no bus to the city, and if you register for work, your family loses the $500 in monthly aid. You want to earn, but you can’t afford to lose support. For now, you keep applying and hope something better comes along.
4. The Promise of a Home, The Reality of Red Tape
In June 2024, you hear displaced families can apply for a housing grant—֏2–֏5 million ($5,200–$13,000), based on family size and location. It’s issued digitally, via QR-coded certificates redeemable at banks.
Many friends apply, but most are denied—often for lacking proof of Artsakh residency, which many left behind while fleeing. The promised verification system doesn’t exist, and red tape shuts people out. The program is supposed to support up to 25,000 families, and cost the Armenian government up to ֏800 billion ($2 billion) but even those approved can’t find homes within budget; prices far exceed grant limits.
Thankfully, your family qualifies. A local family is leaving for Russia, and their late father’s unfinished home is for sale. It’s run-down—but it’s within budget. You say yes.
5. Four Walls, No Ceilings
The upside: You own a home.
The downside: All the grant could cover is an old, overpriced fixer-upper with no windows, missing ceilings, and an outdoor bathroom. Though impractical for your young children, it’s all you could afford. You convince your partner that, in time, with proper renovations, it could be a beautiful place to raise a family.
For now, your family lives in the only room that has a ceiling, and your monthly benefits help you pay for simple, quick fixes: a plank of wood to cover the window, a rug for the cement floor, and a couple of countertop burners to make dinner and generate heat. It’s not ideal, but it’s something.
6. The Rollercoaster of Government Support
You’ve been surviving on ֏50,000 ($125) per person each month. As of April 1, 2025, that changes. Only children, elders, the disabled, and families who lost a breadwinner still qualify, and the amount drops to ֏40,000 ($100), with further cuts expected by summer.
A new program offers minimal extra aid for households earning under ֏55,000 ($140), but it barely covers basic needs. Protests follow. On April 30, the government delays the cuts, extending the $125 benefit for two more months while it reassesses.
7. When Help Feels Like Home
You learn about an NGO called Kooyrigs that’s helping renovate homes for displaced families like yours. You send an email with your number. A few days later, Kevork, their project manager, calls. He schedules a visit to see the house and assess your eligibility.
When he arrives, he asks questions and walks through each room. By the end, he shares the news: you qualify. Kooyrigs will cover a full renovation: kitchen, bathroom, ceilings, and windows. It’ll take about 40 days.
From that moment, the energy shifts in your home. There’s hope. Kevork and his colleague Nana (also from Artsakh) pick your family up the next week and take you to a home furnishings store. You choose flooring, a toilet and sink, a fridge, oven, countertop, and even a table to gather around. They pay for it all with donations they have received from their community.
When construction begins, you’re moved to see fellow Artsakhtsis doing the work, part of a Kooyrigs initiative that allows displaced people to take on government-registered gigs without losing their benefits.
Forty days later, the house is transformed. It’s no longer just a roof over your head- it’s a real home. Your kids invite over new school friends. Your partner finally breathes easier. You apply to remote jobs from your new kitchen with pride.
It’s not everything, but it’s something solid. After all this time, you are finally starting to adjust to your new ‘normal’.
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