(continued from part 3 & 4)
By Oleg Vereshyagin
Anne, 16; Bill, 12, Americans: What is work?
Twins Charley and Sharleen, 9 years old, Americans: Particulars of life in Russian rural area.
Adolf Bravik, 35 years old, Switzerland. Father of three children.
Offers of babysitting services perplexed people or caused laughter. Anne was upset and rather surprised when I explained to her that Russians don’t seek babysitting services for children ages seven and up. Kids usually play, go outside, and do anything and everything – including school and after-school activities – on their own. Children younger than that usually stay home with their grandmothers or mothers; nannies are hired by wealthy families for babies and toddlers. High school girls are not invited for such jobs, only experienced women who make their living doing it.
This is how my daughter lost her income. A terrible loss. Such dreadful Russian customs.
Soon after, Bill received a blow too. Russians are very strange people: they don’t mow their lawns and don’t hire children to deliver papers… The only work Bill was able to find was a “plantation job.” For five hundred rubles, he had spent half a day hunkered over a shovel as he tilled a huge garden for some kind old lady. His hands were a bloody mess. Unlike Anne, sonny took it with a grain of humor and then seriously remarked that this could actually turn into a good business once his hands became more accustomed to this kind of work. He would only need to put up some signs, preferably in color. He teasingly offered Anne to be his partner and do weeding; she returned a sharp statement, and they immediately launched into one of those sister-brother arguments.
Twins Charley and Sharleen, 9 years old. Americans.
Particulars of life in Russian rural area.
Russians have two unpleasant qualities. First, they try to grab you by the elbow or shoulder while having a conversation. Second: they drink a lot. Well, I do know that there are many other nations that drink a lot more than the Russians; it’s just that the Russians drink very openly and with special sort of pleasure.
These negative qualities were somewhat canceled out by the remarkable beauty of the area we settled in. It truly was like in a dream. The buildings in this place were not as special though, as if they were brought here right out of a post-apocalypse movie. My husband told me it was like this just about everywhere and we shouldn’t be bothered by it too much, for the people are really nice.
I didn’t quite believe him. Our twins seemed a bit wary.
To my complete horror, on the very first day of school, just as I was getting in the car to go get the kids from school, some slightly drunk men drove my children up to the house on his terrible rusted jeep that looked somewhat like the old Fords. He apologized profusely for something, kept saying something about holidays, praised my children profusely, said that somebody had said hi, and left.
My two happy little angels were already vividly discussing their first day of school when I interrupted, “Have I not told you enough to NEVER COME CLOSE TO STRANGERS?! How could you dare to get in this man’s vehicle?!”
They said he was not a stranger, but a school maintenance person, that everyone loved him and that he had hands of gold, and his wife was the school’s cook. I was mortified. I sent my children to a den of immorality!!! How nice everything seemed when we first got here… My head started to spin as I suddenly recalled all those stories from the media about the wild atmosphere of Russian remote areas…
…I won’t keep you wondering. Our life turned wonderful and especially great for our children. I do have to say I got a few gray hairs because of their behavior. In the first place, it was incredibly hard for me to get used to the idea that my nine-year-old children were considered to be capable and independent individuals. They can stay outside for five, eight, ten hours along with their local buddies some two, three, five miles away in the woods or on that dreadful, absolutely wild pond. Everyone walks to and from school, and – needless to say – my children started doing the same.
Secondly, children are considered to be everyone’s responsibility around here. A group of kids can, for instance, visit someone’s house and have lunch right there. Not just eat a couple of cookies with a glass of something, but to get a full meal the Russian style. Besides, taking charge of children as soon as they are in sight seems to be a natural reflex of every Russian woman, which took me a good three years to master.
NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS TO CHILDREN HERE. I mean, no danger can come to them from people. Absolutely none. In the large cities, as far as I know, the situation is a lot like in the United States, but it is different out here. Certainly, the children can get themselves in the harm’s way, and when we first got here I did try to keep an eye on them at all times, but it proved to be impossible. I was shocked how lightheartedly my neighbors would say they didn’t know where their child was, without so much as a speck of worry, “Running around somewhere, he’ll appear by lunch time!” Goodness gracious, in the United States, a parent can be prosecuted for such attitude! It took me a while to realize that these women were wiser than me, and their children were far better aware and oriented in life than mine were, at least when we first arrived in Russia.
We, Americans, are proud of our skills and practicality. After living here for a while, I realize with a grain of bitterness that we are deceiving ourselves. Maybe some time ago we were that way. But now we – and especially our children – are slaves of the comfortable cage that has electricity flowing through its ribs and doesn’t allow us to freely develop. If the Russians can somehow be weaned from drinking, they will conquer the world without ever firing a single shot. I mean it.
Adolf Bravik, 35 years old. Switzerland.
Father of three children.
There are things about Russian adults that a person who’s honed to the standards of our Western cultures cannot comprehend. When there is a scandal in Russian family, a man may shake his wife in the heat of an argument, or a wife can whack a child with a towel, and despite all this THEY STILL LOVE EACH OTHER and THEY SUFFER IF SEPARATED. I cannot say I approve such behavior in many Russians. I don’t think abusing a wife and punishing children physically is the way to go. I have never done anything like it, and never will. I just want to make you understand, family is more than a word here. Russian kids run away from “homes for children” [government-run facilities for orphaned children or those left without parents’ care. According to Russian law, adults may be deprived of the right to raise their children for drug or alcohol abuse or other reasons – RV]
But children hardly ever run away from foster families in our countries. Our children are so used to the fact that they don’t have parents in a sense, – they submit to anything an adult does to them. They are not capable of an escape, of a riot, of a resistance even when their own health or life itself is at stake, because they are taught to be the property of EVERYONE, not just their family.
Russian children resist. They often run back into terrifying conditions. Russian homes for children are really not so bad, contrary to what we might think. Tons of food on a consistent basis, computers, entertainment, and care. Nevertheless, escapes are very frequent and are met with complete understanding, even among those whose duty is to return the children back to the home for children. “Well, what do you expect! It’s HOME!” It is hard to imagine our policeman or someone from Juvenile Justice say something like this. You have to also consider that Russia has but a fraction of freedoms our anti-family laws offer social workers. For a Russian child to be taken away from the family, there must be some truly bad situation, believe me.
It is hard for us to understand when a father who often beats his son takes him fishing or teaches him to use tools and care for his car or motorcycle. And that a child with such dad may actually be much happier than a child whose father never abused him, but whom the boy sees fifteen minutes a day at breakfast and dinner. I know this sounds terrible to a modern western person, but it is true; you have to believe my experience living in two entirely different countries.
We worked so hard to create a “safe world” for our children according to someone’s mean will, that we killed everything human in ourselves and in our children. Not until I had lived here did I realize with disgust that the best intentions under the premises of which we operate in my former home country separating families – are nonsense. We let ourselves be driven by ideas that are born in sick minds and implemented with repulsive cynicism out of fear of losing one’s job and unquenchable thirst for promotions. While Swiss – and not just Swiss – government social workers are talking about “child protection,” what they really do is they ruin children’s souls. Ruin them shamelessly and insanely. I never stood a chance of saying this while I was living there. I can now say: my poor homeland is seriously ill. The disease is called “children’s rights.” Some abstract notion of the “rights of children” that divide happy families and cripple the lives of children.
“Home,” “father,” “mother” – to a Russian, these are not just words and notions. To a Russian, they are word-symbols, almost sacred incantations. Strangely, we don’t have this. We don’t feel connected to the places where we live, even if they are very comfortable. We don’t feel connected to our children; our children don’t feel the need to be connected with us. In my opinion, all of it was deliberately taken away from us. And it is one of the reasons why I moved here. Here in Russia I do feel I am a good father and husband, my wife does feel she is a good mother and wife and our children do feel loved. We are people, free people, as opposed to the LLC called Family. It feels really good. It is even very comforting psychologically. Comforting to the point that it makes up for the great number of shortcomings of life here.
Honest to God, I believe there is a house spirit living in our home. Good, kind Russian house spirit. And our children believe it too.
Russian source:
http://samlib.ru/w/wereshagin_o_n/ovr.shtml
Link active as of January 30, 2017. RV