Meri’s Story
As director of a beauty products company in Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh), she led a great team of women. She’d built her business with her own hands, inspiring and empowering others to achieve financial independence. This wasn’t just a professional career. It was her calling.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last forever; a terrible war broke out, followed by a total blockade. And in a matter of months, the vivid colors of life disappeared, and her whole team scattered across cities and villages, each carrying their own pain, their own losses. Many of them lost their homes, family members, and worst of all, some even lost their hopes and ceased to dream. Bringing them back together became impossible, not just physically, but emotionally. The bond that once united them had been torn apart by something too big, too cruel. And Meri, who had spent years empowering others, now found herself the one who needed to be lifted.
She was trying to survive, not just financially, but mentally. Her daughter, Adrianna, had been traumatized by what she’d witnessed during the war. The nights were the hardest. Adrianna couldn’t sleep. She was scared, restless, broken in ways only a child could be.
Nighttime silence was terrifying, waiting for the next attack, listening for danger, or simply the heavy quiet after violence. For her child and for all of them, this silence was filled with fear and anxiety. But the weight of watching your child suffer does something to a mother. It breaks you in half and then asks you to keep standing.
She kept standing, even when she didn’t want to. She knew she had to keep going. Not because it was easy. Not because she had a plan. But because you can’t let pain win.
After forced displacement, escaping ethnic cleansing, Meri and her family unfolded their few languages and settled in the village of Mrgavet (Ararat Region, Armenia), where they were given shelter by a humanitarian organization called “Gain.” They were supported and cared for.
When her husband’s birthday came around, something unexpected happened. She wanted to thank Gain’s local team by preparing something traditional and meaningful. So she made her baklava.
As she was baking, one of the German volunteers passing through saw her. Curious, he asked what she was making. Meri smiled, quietly proud, and told him to come back tomorrow to try it.
He wasn’t supposed to come to work the next day. But he did. Just for that baklava.
He took one bite. Paused. Looked at her and said, “This baklava should be on the market.”
Meri was stunned. Selling it? That had never crossed her mind. She’d lost so much; she didn’t think she had anything left to offer. But his words stuck. That night, she didn’t sleep. The idea wouldn’t let her rest. It was serendipity!
The next morning, she woke early, packed up a fresh tray of baklava, and got on the road to Yerevan. No business plan. No label. Just trust. She walked through the streets, knocking on doors, offering samples, hoping someone would see what that volunteer had noticed and tasted. She began to propose her products to different restaurants and stores in Yerevan, and one of them called her back to tell her that they would like to order some as a dessert for their menu!
That’s how it began!
But starting a business isn’t magic. She had one oven. No logo. No equipment. Nothing professional. She was afraid. But she kept going. Because somewhere inside, she knew she wasn’t just baking. She was rebuilding. She needed to scale up, but finding financial support to purchase the necessary equipment proved challenging.
Life gave her another chance. She stumbled upon an announcement for a refugee women’s economic empowerment program run by the Armenian Fund for Sustainable Development (AF4SD). She decided to apply!
She’d never written a proposal before. She didn’t think she had a chance. But something in her said, “Try.” So, she did. She sat down and wrote her business plan. Not long after, she got a visit from AF4SD for an evaluation of her bakery production needs. Her business plan was approved, and she got the equipment.
With that support, Meri expanded her small business. Slowly, she acquired more tools, better packaging, learned how to brand her product, and how to speak the language of business. She didn’t just learn how to bake better; she also learned how to run a business more effectively. And she didn’t stop there. She entered an international dessert competition organized in Dilijan (Armenia), and against all odds, she won, even as a beginner.
She didn’t want to stop at just making baklava, so she started learning and growing. She’s learned how to make cakes, cookies, and more. She’s taken every challenge as a chance to grow. She is looking for premises to open her own dessert store. Even now, while pregnant with her second child, she hasn’t paused. She’s baking, learning, managing, and dreaming, all at once.
And every step she takes, she remembers why she started. Her daughter. Adrianna.
The child who gave her strength on nights she had none. The child whose healing was her purpose. That’s why she named her business “Adrianna,” not just as a name, but as a promise. No matter how much life takes, Meri will keep giving back.
This isn’t a story about desserts.
It’s a story about survival.
About motherhood.
About grief turned into creation.
Meri isn’t just a baker.
She’s a fighter.
A learner.
A builder of new beginnings.
