MY SOVIET LIFE
Now that I have become an American I want to tell all Americans about my Soviet life. This is my history. This is the history of my country. It cannot be deleted from my memory; this will always stay with me, inside my heart no matter who I am or where I am right now. I can also say this: I am so proud to be a Soviet American. I want to tell this to all of those who never had as much trouble in life as the Soviet people. I write for those who are so lucky to live in America so that they may know what life is like in other countries. One good thing about the difficulties of Soviet life is that it makes us stronger and self-motivated. It toughens us. It helps us be powerful and unique. This hard Soviet life taught all of us that the biggest goal in life is how to endure. All Soviets really know the meaning of “hard” life.
Russia, as well as the other Soviet republics of the USSR, was under oppression for more than seventy years and still finds it difficult to be rid of that oppression even now. So many times our country was destroyed by war after war and yet, we still survive. Amazing!
The communist ideas did not work for the people. During the Soviet era, people gave allegiance to the leaders of the Communist Party: to Lenin, to Stalin, to Brej(zh)nev, and soon to whomever was in power. We grew up with great trust inside our minds and hearts for these leaders and we had strong patriotic feelings for our homeland.
My husband who visited my homeland, Crimea (part of Ukraine) a couple of times, told me that even though we are more than twenty years behind America in computerization, high technology, etc., we are rich in our intellectual talent. Russia has great wealth: an amazing history, perseverance in the face of difficult circumstances, great sports, literary, musical and scientific heroes. A tough Russian reality made them work harder and be stronger so that they could prove to everybody that they were the best. Russia gave to the world the greatest people:Iosif Brodsky, Sergei Davlatov, Anna Axmatov, Aleksandr Sakharov and Aleksandr Soljenitsin to name a few. All Russian immigrants to America, Turkey, Canada, Poland, and many other countries, made these countries rich and powerful with their knowledge, success, and victories. Yet, they will be eternally Russian because they are from Russia and they are proud of this.
MY CHIDHOOD
I grew up in a large family. We always shared everything with each other. This is the first virtue that I learned from my family. When we became students we learned how to live together in society and how to help each other. I learned about friendship and supportive relationships from my youth. Another virtue in life that we were taught was to respect our parents and elders. Shortly after starting my own university student life living in the dormitory, I got my first hospital job as a nurse’s assistant. During this period I learned how to take care of others. It was night shift work, but I was happy to help someone else in need. In addition, I earned money which allowed me to be independent of my parents. I worked all six years of my student life, but did not advance much in positions in the medical field. During the last year of my study in university I worked as a nurse in the first medical help station on the night shift because during the day I was a student. I don’t know why, but I remember this as one of the best times of my life even though it was hard for me: sleepless nights, very busy days, but a very enjoyable student life. And this is not just me. Every single Soviet student will tell you the same thing.
Later, I learned many other things. For example, I learned how to get a job, how to make extra money for living, and how to work hard to attain my dreams. I always worked hard. I tried to get work like many others, because income in Russia was very low, not even enough for bare necessities. I still remember giving massages for some clients for almost nothing, just to make a couple of grivna ($1 is 8 grivnas) enough for a bus ticket to and from work. I also worked as an interpreter of Turkish, German, Polish, and English in the summer time. I also knitted and sold clothes when I had time (in Russia almost all women can sew). All families maintain their own gardens to provide food for themselves and to sell at market. When I was young I worked in the family garden every weekend and would go to sell food in the market (bazaar). When I was 24 or 25 years old I worked in multi-level marketing (MLM) and built up my own business with herbal life products.
None of these jobs made me rich. I earned just enough to live, nevertheless, I learned a lot about different kinds of work and I gained invaluable life experience. Later on, my sisters decided to open their own sewing business. I bought fabrics cheaply from markets in Turkey and brought them home. Soon we all sewed clothes: gloves, hats, westerns, etc., and sold them. I know that in America have one job, and if they have one job, they can make their living from it and not have to worry. Of course, one can work more than one job, , but it is not usually out of necessity. In addition, many Americans are able to save for retirement with contributions from employers. In Russia, the situation is different. For their entire lives, people try to make money and save it. They are constantly worried about losing their jobs.
When I worked as a teacher in the Medical Nurses College, I also worked during my summer vacations. I had another job as a private guide in a resort on the Black Sea. Summers in Crimea were always great times for making money by providing services to tourists who came from all over. Crimea is a very pretty and peaceful area on the Black Sea with wonderful vegetation, abundant wildlife, and beautiful natural landscapes. For those who lived in Crimea, however, life is hard just working to make ends meet.
COMMUNIST RULES
Okay, about my life. Let’s come back to the Communist idea, that included several levels of study: first, “octyabryanok;” second, “pioneer;” third, “komsomol;” and last, “Communist.” In order to be a real Soviet citizen you not only had to pass all levels, you always had to show pride in the Communist Party. No one asked you if you liked it or not: it was the law. If you didn’t want to have trouble with the authorities, you did it. When you started school at about age seven, the first four years you studied to become an octyabryanok and wore a pin on your collar that depicted Lenin as a child. After three more years you became a pioneer and were required to wear a red bandana around your neck like a tie. In the next level, you became a komsomol, wearing a pin bearing the image of an adult Lenin. In the last level, you became a Communist and a member of the Communist Party.
In all levels, we were required to follow the rules and further the goals of the Communist Party at all times. During the Soviet period, everyone was required to listen to and to obey all orders from the Party. If you did not fulfill these requirements, you were judged to be against the Communist Party and were labeled an enemy of the Soviet state and people. Under this oppression, people lived with fear in their lives. During the Soviet era, many people disappeared. One day, and they just didn’t come home. It is simple to understand, but so sad and hard to believe that one wicked and insane despot, Stalin, could have instituted terror that continued for generations of people for seventy years. The government had to have special political rules to keep everyone under control. Many documents of what transpired back then are gone forever.
One of the requirements was to attend mandatory communist meetings and participate in special work crews. For example, we college students together with workers and high school kids, had to pick cotton during the fall. We were sent into a very rural area with nothing but large fields of high cotton bushes and one wooden barn. Inside the barn were long shelves to sleep on and a tiny sink to wash. Girls and boys slept in the same barn. There was no heat, no windows, no chairs. Later in the fall, when the temperature outside fell below freezing, the temperature inside fell as well. We were so cold inside that our breath was steam and we lay in our beds with all of our clothes on. We wore big rubber boots and heavy cotton coats, with gloves for picking and big aprons around our necks to hold the picked cotton. All day we had to work. Some evenings we had music for dancing, but we were too exhausted to dance. Sometimes, we even had a movie.
Before we put on our boots we had to wrap our toes with heavy cotton fabric called “portyanka” for better protection. They were so heavy that after a short walk your legs were already tired. The coats were the same story. We shared our dwelling with other animals, “our friends”, rats and mice. Maybe it seems humorous now, but it was not so funny back then. They scared us. They could sneak into our beds, ruin our food and bite us.
Sometimes in late fall when the rain and snow started, it became very cold. We still had to go out to work no matter what the temperature was. There was a fixed period of time during which we had to achieve the government’s plan, their goal for the season. We couldn’t stop picking during the day until we had picked enough. The daily quota was about 25 kg per person. The quota remained the same even after the fields were no longer filled with cotton. Every evening we had to attend a meeting to go over our results. Our leader called out the names of those who didn’t make their quota. The public humiliation was embarrassing to everyone.
Our shower room, called a “banya,” was a big with left and right entrances for males and females. We had to be driven there and we were taken only once a month. The rest of the time we had to do the best we could to keep ourselves clean. We didn’t have a toilet near our barn, so we had to use the big cotton field. It was an extremely unpleasant and sometimes scary situation, but we had no other choice.
We were located so far from the city that not all of our parents could visit us. Some of us had no contact with our families for the entire time we were there. There was no regular transportation, just a couple of trucks from town because the roads were so terrible. If one of us became sick or injured, the closest hospital, five or six hours away, had minimal medical services. There was just one telephone in the administration building and it was restricted for use to office workers. It was not used for us at all, not even in an emergency situation. For those who have never undergone this type of hardship it may be difficult to understand. I remember this part of my life very well. Our teachers did not care about our health. Even if we were sick, we had to work. The communist Party has a Cotton Plan to be completed in a certain amount of time and we must all do it.
It was a very tough time for everyone, especially for college students like us. We missed out on most of our fall courses of study, but our administration didn’t care. The work period was usually September through November, so we had just one month before New Year and a short time in January to study before we had our first exams. It was a very short time to learn, but we did it. We worked extremely hard to learn and pass our exams because nobody wanted to fail and not get paid a stipend for the next session. The Medical Program was a very important and difficult subject. It was very challenging to prepare for the exams in such a short period of time. Some students did fail the exams and it was so sad because once you failed you were out. Pass or fail. Stay or be gone. Anyone who tried to get out of picking cotton had a lot of trouble with the government and the administration. Many students lost their places at university because of this.
Another routine we had during that time was the communist general cleaning, called “subbotnik,” like a Saturday cleaning. This day was usually Lenin’s birthday. All soviet people would come to their workplace and clean all day for free. Anyone who missed this day could be called an anti-soviet person, which means against Soviet, against Lenin, and so an enemy.
After graduation, all of us training to be specialists had to do an internship practice for about two years in another city, usually very far away, and get a diploma after successfully passing the State Practical Exam. So our education took a total of eight years. Having an education and a diploma as a medical doctor or Ph.D. did not guarantee high income, like in America, because the economy was very low, as was the standard of living. Many doctors, scientists, and attorneys were very simple people leading simple lives with nothing fancy.
There is public transportation all over Russia because only a small number of people have cars. Sometimes it takes a long time of hard work to be able to buy a car. Now, of course, there are many more cars in Russia and Ukraine. There are also many more computerized companies, but still not like in the U.S.A. Every Russian still knows how to garden, how to build a house, how to sew or knit, how to work hard, because this is the only way to survive in soviet life.
During World War II, Stalin committed genocide against many small nationalities under soviet rule. They were under oppression then and some of them still are now. My parents are real witnesses to this. They learned about it not from books or movies, but by being victims. When she was 14v years old, my mother was taken from her parents. It was so sudden and terrifying for her and others with her. Teams of police came to town and started going house to house ordering the townspeople to come outside and stand in a line. They shouted at the sick and the elderly and beat anyone who did not obey. My mother was shoved into a special train, one usually used for transporting livestock. She did not know how long they traveled in the train. All she remembers is that she was terrified. She had to urinate so badly she was not able to hold it. It was a very cold, metal train, very dark inside with no windows. She passed out and someone had to carry her off the train when they finally arrived at their destination. This day became a historically black day for all Crimean Tatars: May 18, 1944. The destination was Uzbekistan, one of the former republics of the Soviet Union.
The place where they arrived was just a big field with a wooden barracks. They all worked everywhere, wherever hard work was needed, no matter how old or young, men, women and children. Some older people were killed in their own homes in Crimea. These were homes built with their own hands with very little, places where their lives began. Some of them died from starvation and dehydration. Some perished from disease. My father was a soldier in the Soviet Red Army who came back from eight years of war. He was someone who fought for his own country, but upon his return, the authorities ordered him to leave his homeland, Crimea, within 24 hours. He was sent to Uzbekistan, where he met my mother much later. The same thing happened to other small nationalities, like the Jews, Bulgarians, Karaims, and Gypsies.
How many of our Russian geniuses were killed in Russia under the despotism of Stalin? How many landed in the Gulag and other camps? Thousands . . . Millions . . . Some of them escaped to wherever they could: Turkey, America, Canada, Bulgaria, Poland, and Germany. It is probably hard to imagine how it feels to lose one’s family, child, home, and all that you have with just one second to run, anywhere you can see road, all to begin life again at zero. Innocent people were tortured without any reason by someone who decided to do that, by someone who was crazy and mentally ill. Many books about this time in history and these leaders (Lenin, Stalin) have been written, but I just want again to remind everyone about this dramatic period in Soviet history.
Of course, now many philosophers, politicians, and historians try to explain for us new generation that these leaders, Lenin and Stalin, were mentally ill and could not make any proper decisions; that some of them were taking medication and were under Communist Party control and, thus, were like marionettes. Who knows what was the reality and where is the truth? Many versions and many ideas move around, but there are no excuses for the massive torture they inflicted on the soviet people. This sad period is called Communism and Stalin’s Genocide.
In the former Soviet Union right now, we find that communist ideas still prevail, despite what the government tells the world through television and newspapers about its new-found democracy. Maybe one day this country will understand democracy, but this is a very long way in the future. I still believe, like every other soviet person, that communism will only die with the death of the last communist in the country. Maybe a new generation will have a different view of life, a different way of building the society. There is no guarantee, however, that the new way of life will be democratic.
Communism is a very great idea in theory. In practice, it does not work. In the Soviet Union, it functioned only to cover up the corruption in every level of society throughout the country. Someone who has money has rights, and someone who has rights has power, and someone who has power can retain that money and those rights. So, this idea works for them. Simple people who work hard all of their lives will always be left in a corner and the road to opportunity will open only for a few. The situation is the same at every level: in politics, culture, medicine, law enforcement, science, entertainment—everywhere. Most importantly, this corruption paralyzed the whole government. People lost their trust in the government and became insecure about themselves and their future losing any hope for progress in their lives.
The present leaders in Russia, Putin and Medvedev, are now just focusing on cleaning up Moscow, no farther than that. The distant regions are still totally broken, untouched by reform. The worst thing in this situation is that nothing has really changed. After Russia fell apart, all of the post-Soviet republics became independent. They selected their own leaders and wrote their own laws. They wanted to build new relations with each other. Independence brings up a lot of problems: borders, visas, and host of other new problems. Some of the former republics wanted to rewrite history. Some of them became enemies. While previously dependent upon each other, independence came at a hard-fought bloody price. Fighting for independence seems like a good thing, but in reality it was bad because each of the republics was cut off from its root. The process cannot conclude quickly because it takes time to settle up.
Because of the new alignments and strife among former republics, international trade patterns and levels are changing. It has proved very difficult to resolve trade issues among them since most government leaders are interested only in retaining power and increasing the money in their own pockets. When up for election, they promise whatever sounds good, but after the vote, nothing changes. As usual, the people get nothing just like in communist times. For example, in Ukraine, in a big city like Sevastopol, people still have trouble with electric power, hot water, and heat in winter. Can you imagine that during the winter when the temperature outside is around -15C, your home is just as cold inside, plus you don’t have hot water or electric power? I know what I am talking about: I have lived in this situation for many years, and know the problems in Ukraine and in the other regions of the Union. In rural towns and villages people do not even have piped in water; they walk a couple of miles to get water. There are only a couple of telephones in the whole town. Buses run to the city on a limited timetable, usually just two times per day, morning and evening. Having a hot shower is like getting a big gift in the special holidays. The electricity is off three to five hours every day; homes heated with wooden or black stone stoves. This is how life looks over there. When you consider these problems altogether, you realize how hard life can be and how lucky we are in the U.S.A.
PART II
My parents were both born in the same town of Balaclava, near Sevastopol, in the Crimea. They met much later in Uzbekistan (one of the post-Soviet republics in Asia where they were deported by Stalin in 1949, five years after World War II ended). So when they met, they were surprised to learn they were from the same town. My mom was a 19-year old young woman and my father was a 29-year old man. When the Crimean Tatars began to be deported, they were sent primarily to Siberia and Uzbekistan, very far from home. When they arrived, they were separated by age and sex, but lived in the same wooden houses called barracks. The women grew vegetables and fruit. The men worked in building construction and did all of the hard labor. My mom worked in a garden and in a bakery. She also took care of cows, and sold milk and other products in the market.
My father returned to his homeland, Crimea, in 1944 after seven years of fighting, but the government arrested him and ordered him to leave within 24 hours for Uzbekistan. He had been awarded numerous medals for bravery and valor, had received two concussions and served as the personal driver for General Grechko, a famous Russian general. It was a very dramatic moment for him, mentally and emotionally, because it was so hard to understand that in one minute you are fighting for your country and in the next minute you are the enemy.
My parents were introduced to each other at a spring celebration. In our family, we have many versions of the story of their love, but I will tell you the classic one. My father arrives at a party with a big Morgan horse. Of course, all of the girls jump on him, but my mom was too shy and proud to do that, even if inside her heart she fell in love with him at first sight. At that time, people were very reserved about romantic relationships. They started to date, at first, just as friends. One year later, they were married. Life back then was hard, filled with very few comforts. Homes were small. Money was scarce. Children grew up in respectful and strong families, a lot different than at present. My family is large: two sons, three daughters. I am the youngest.
I remember so well, just as if it were yesterday, when we brought our first black and white television (much later, we had a color T.V.) our first washing machine and our first tiny car. These things were really big gifts for all of us kids and almost a dream come true. We were really happy. I also remember that we used to take care of the garden, helped our parents to build their home, and learned how to cook. I remember my mom to washing our clothes by hand, and rinsing them outside under cold running water, in summer and in winter. We helped her to hang them outside. Much later, my dad built a small pool for us children. It was also a big gift for us. My mother used to repair our old pants and shirts and taught us how to sew. My father was a talented person and very professional in his work. He quickly built up his career as a teacher in the driving school of the dorojno-avtomobilnaya inspeksiya or DAI, an organization that is a combination of highway control and department of motor vehicles. After a while, he became the chief of the DAI and a respected member of the community in Yangiul, our city in Uzbekistan, near Tashkent. In addition to Uzbeks, Tatars, Russians, Armenians, Karean, Germans, Jews, Gypsies and others all lived in Uzbekistan. At that time, all nationalities were very friendly and supportive of one another. We used to live a peaceful life, sharing celebrations, birthday and marriage parties and we learned the customs of each others’ cultures. We bonded. It was a very different time back then. We kids used to play outside until midnight or 1 a.m. when our parents asked us to be home without any worries for our safety. There were different games back then and we read more books and learned how to do things. I started to cook when I was 11, and was proud to do it for my family and my mom. In my memory, this was the best time of my life. It was not an easy time . . . but still nice.
PART III
Now I would like to tell you a little about Crimean Tatar, my nationality. Our homeland is Crimea, which is located on Crimea Island, now part of Ukraine. Many years ago, Crimea was an independent republic, with its own government, flag, languages and stamps. The first leader of the Crimean Tatars was Han Girey who lived in the 18th century.
Crimean Tatars are Muslim. They follow the Koran and Islam. When the Crimean Tatars arrived in Uzbekistan they had to start life all over again. The place where they arrived was one big field—just a field. This part of Uzbekistan had a hot climate, was very dry, and sparsely populated. But the Tatars did not give up even after all of Stain’s abusive treatment. They began to work hard to turn this empty place into a garden. It was a very difficult time, but they didn’t give up hard work to give in to anger or sadness. They became a large community, chose a leader, and made their plans. After a while, the dream became a reality—a place called Yangiul, which means “a new way.” My family lived in this city where I was born for over 25 years. This is my homeland. I remember well how our city began to grow. Soon, new buildings, new shops, parks and cinema theaters, and many other things came to be. More and more the city grew up with us. I used to know my city very well. I knew all of the small roads, all of the streets and all of the parks. Our home was about fifteen minutes from the bus station, so we used to walk to the bus. My school was about the same distance and so we also walked to school, often with friends and neighborhood girls. In the winter, we threw snowballs and skied down our little hill. In the summer time, we chased each other and played games like hopscotch and hide-and-seek. Next to our house was a nice garden, called Turkmen sad, which means “Turkmen garden.” Beside the garden was a small river, called Kara Kulduk, or “black lake.” All of those names will always stay in memory and inside my heart, because this is my childhood, the best time ever in my life. This was a time when ice cream was just 22 kopeks, a bus ticket 5 kopeks, and a ticket to a nice Russian camp was just 30 Russian rubles. This was a time when we used to believe in a great future for us, for our people and our friends. We were young and healthy; so innocent and naïve.
PART IV
In the 1990s, when Mikhail Gorbachev became President, the Soviet Union fell apart. It broke apart and instantly, our lives were changed. All fifteen Soviet republics became separate and independent and almost enemies of each other. This was a most difficult time for the USSR and for us, the soviet people. All of us understood that after this big political change, we were not going to be the same as we were before. All of the republics elected their own leaders and fashioned their own laws, regulations and visa system. We all became citizens of different countries. At the same, however, we all became, in our own way, free. Mikhail Gorbachev added his name forever as a leader who brought freedom to the USSR and that was that. Some people still thank him; others really hate him. My own opinion is that he made a good deal with the USA and got a better life for himself. During the same time, currency crashed and many people lost all of their savings. It was a crazy, stressful time. A big bag of money all of a sudden became nothing, just paper. For some people this was almost the end of their lives.
Around 1993, my family started to move back to Crimea, the homeland of my parents and of all Crimean Tatars. I was one of the first of my family to make the move. My parents came back much later. For me, it was the first really big change in my life. I was depressed for a long time, almost one year, until my parents arrived back. For many reasons, I felt alone. I disliked new city and new style of life. I had grown up in an Asian culture with different traditions and views of life. My new home in Sevastopol was very European and had a different lifestyle. First of all, relations between men and women, coworkers and neighbors were entirely different. But thanks to God, I adapted after a while and began to learn more and more about my city. Now, it is my favorite city in the world and I miss it a lot. From the beginning there was trouble with discrimination of the nationalities. The Ukrainian government did not look kindly on the return of the Crimean Tatars. They thought we came back to take the place away from them, which wasn’t true. I had trouble getting a job in my specialty just because I was Tatar. I know of what I speak. Not just me, all Crimean Tatars faced discrimination.
People constantly asked us why we came back there. Why? And no explanation was good enough for them. It took a very long time to settle. It was a hard time, but we persevered. There are still Crimean Tatars in Crimea fighting for their rights. How long this will go on only God knows. I hope that it is not as long as the communist time.
And now about my new homeland, America. I am really thankful for the U.S.A. because my real talent for poetry has emerged here. America has opened new aspects of my life. I also learned a lot about life. I became a different person, but inside I am still the same as before. My personality has a mixture of nationalities, mentalities, traditions, and cultures, and this has made me who I am.