I Need A Cup of Tea: In Memory of Zhirair Basmajyan

The international friends of Zhirair Basmajyan have recently learned of his death on 17 August, 2019.

Zhirair was 45.

I met Zhirair through email, our correspondence starting about 12 years ago. We traded plant material and became close friends. I stayed with him a few weeks one spring in Armenia, which was very patient of him and family. We stayed in contact over skype or the phone. For a while, we kept up a tradition over skype that we had started in person: chats over greek coffee and chocolate. We hadn't talked much in the last year, and I kept thinking I needed to go see him again and I deeply regret not doing so.

Knowing Zhiro encouraged me to be a fearless traveler. He showed me a universal culture of generosity to host and know travelers. He was tolerant of people and their shortcomings in a way that is rare in even the old and wise. Yet he was a worldly man, quite aware of the darkest possibilities in humanity. His autodidactic qualities made all of us seem quite lazy in comparison. He sparked for me an understanding of the complexity and nuance of nationalities and humanity, to shun oversimplification of history and prejudice.

Zhirair was a massive genius. His life was very much a manifestation of his decision to live life to the highest quality of one’s preferences: he savored his plant collections, which were spread out throughout several family member’s homes and a summer cottage. He knew everyone in his community and had broad connections to people close and afar, quietly listening after striking up conversation with someone new he met. His home satisfied his need for immediate community, and his late night internet time connected him to the world- to many of us, he was an internationally famous flower bulb expert- if unknown because of this humility.

He committed to a group of plants for years, rather than swinging through genera like plant collectors. He cultivated specific, sophisticated tastes for Tulips, Lilies, Roses, Fritillaria, Crocus, and others. He would gather a breadth of knowledge of that group of plants to its maximum. He held a collection of plants, and especially tulips, that included otherwise extinct heirloom varieties, dedicated to their preservation.

He cherished the Russian he was taught in school, having been raised in soviet times, for he knew that another language widens one’s access to the world. With his massive intellect, he taught himself english, telling me his initial interest being the lyrics of Madonna. His english was incredibly good in person, having worked on the nuances of pronunciation and depth of vocabulary.

He enjoyed fashionable but casual clothing. He enlightened me about Armenian culture's value of aesthetics and beauty; and I loved that. He laughed and said that owning lots of clothing means one doesn't have to do laundry as often!

The weekend/country house

In his honor, I want to share the cutting edge horticulture he had to teach us.

This one is huge: he discovered how to rid a tulip of the breaking virus. This is probably still considered impossible by many experts. It would be revolutionary, like finding the cure for Tulip cancer. This is how I understand it: When the plant is in active growth, and it has a lot of leaf/flower, the bulb is small: the virus is often mostly pushed up into the vegetative top of the plant, and the bulb, while at its minimum size, can actually be clean. The top parts are carefully cut off and the tiny, emaciated but clean bulb is taken to grow on to bulk back up to size over the period of several growth seasons to recover its size. This method makes it possible to recover rare varieties whose remaining cultivated stock are diseased. I don't think someone could have figured this out without the intense observation Zhiro had.

Two major themes of Zhiro’s garden prowess:

1. Tireless Persistence.

In cutting tulips to enjoy as cut flowers, he used a brand new razor blade for every cut, eliminating the possibility of spreading virus. He even sustained some nerve damage once by finishing digging his tulip bulbs on his last possible weekend to do so when the weather got to be truly nasty and cold.

He sought contact with hobbyists the world over- that is how we met. If it took patiently waiting for a person to come through with their agreement to help him get something done. He also always followed through with his promises. He would remember the desires of friends abroad, even if it was years later. He tried new ways of growing things and carefully observed the outcome.

It took him a massive amount of work, every year, to dig his bulbs. Many of them required a dryer dormancy than the place where they grew best. He knew which beds were most apt to be visited by virus-carrying bees and constructed screen-houses to protect them. He had to re-weed his beds each year, because he didn’t weed them during the vegetative phase, as bruising and brushing is apt to spread disease. New beds he cleaned by hand, sifting the soil and removing every visible root. His bulb collection was spread across several family member's homes, including a garage roof and the weekend house.

2. Care for Detail.

He visited his tulip bed every day, observing every plant, looking for disease. He noted the size of bulbs between seasons to gauge how much they increased in that period. If there was so much as a bit of pollen that was a different color, he would notice. His attention was fierce.

These superpowers of his were only matched by the same in his character as a person.