Shamen, the man portrayed on the cover of this book, is one of the few Sayfo survivors of Bote. During the 13 days of hell in the summer of 1915 in Bote, his entire family was slaughtered brutally by the Kurds. The only survivors were Shamen and his sister Maryam. His sister was abducted by Kurds to be forced to marry and Shamen was taken by Kurds as a child slave and forced to convert to Islam. Mostly the beautiful children were spared and since Shamen had a fair skin and blue eyes, what was considered beautiful and unique in this region, he was abducted instead of being killed. The Kurds that abducted him changed his Christian name Shamen (Simon) to an Islamic name, Ahmedke. For seven years he served this Kurdish family as a slave until one day his distant cousin Isa (Bilge) came to look for him. His cousin knew where to look because it was Maryam, Shamen's sister, that informed their cousin about his whereabouts. Maryam once saw Shamen in the fields keeping his Kurdish lord's sheep. She did not reach out to her brother because she feared someone might alert the Kurds and kill him. However, when she escaped from her abductor and found safe haven in Aynwardo, she also found few remaining distant relatives and told them Shamen was alive. And so, Shamen returned to Bote with his cousin Isa after living as a Muslim slave for seven years. During the first few years he had trouble to unlearn his Islamic habits, such as ritually washing before prayer. This lead to frustrations of his fellow Christian people in Bote. Nevertheless his uncle Bishop Afrem Bilgic told the people in Bote to have some patience because he believed Shamen needed some time to become his old self again. And indeed, after some time, Shamen returned to his old habits and married a Christian woman from a nearby village Saleḥ, called Maryam. Together with his wife he had four sons: Hane, Halaf, Malke, and Saliba, and one daughter Basna, many (great)grandchildren and became 102 years old. In his adult life he became one of the most devoted Christian and he went to church every day. His religion was very important to him. Wherever he was, he never stopped telling about what he had seen during the Sayfo, even when he was of old age. His memory never failed him. He would always take the opportunity to tell about how he was hidden in the underground tunnels of the church in Bote and that he saw his uncle dying in front of the church telling him to run for his life. He would tell his children, grandchildren, and greatgrandchildren to never forget what he had been trough because he had seen it with his own eyes. And I remember his words, his voice and how he used to sit in his bed as an old man telling us about our history and what had happened to our ancestors, for Shamen beQasho is my beloved great-grandfather.