The Puzzle of Elijah. Olga Anischenko

house. One bedroom was for our uncle, his wife and their five children. The second bedroom was for our parents and their two youngest children, and the third bedroom was for us, four older girls. Our two brothers slept on couches in the living room. We slept during the day and were awake at night; it took a few days to adjust to the 12-hour time difference.

      When Uncle Vlad drove us to the grocery store for the first time, I could not believe what I saw: ice cream in plastic buckets, and so many different fruits and vegetables! Our food selection in the Ukraine was not even close to what America had to offer. We were happy in Ukraine with what we had because we knew no better. In America, we thanked God for everything: food on the table, a place to live, and warm clothes.

      For a while, we found oranges underneath my sister’s pillow. “Why do you keep oranges under your pillow?” we asked. “Because I love oranges so much and worry that I may not have them tomorrow,” answered our sister. She had hard time believing that she was in America and could eat oranges whenever she wanted.

      The two weeks passed, and we were ready to move into our own place. It had not been easy to find a space given that there were ten of us and little money. Finally, we found a two-bedroom apartment. It was challenging with one bathroom and a small space, but we were in America! God had blessed us!

      At one point the principal of a school came to talk with my parents about my brother’s behavior. When he saw our tiny space and our lack of furniture, he left and came back in one hour with a truck full of used furniture, lamps and other items that would improve our life. We are still grateful for his kindness! It made a difference in our lives.

      As I think of it today, I am so thankful to our Uncle Peter, for helping us immigrate to America. I am thankful to Uncle Vlad for letting us stay with his family in a foreign country, even though it wasn’t simple for seventeen people to live together. I also thank God for the good people who helped us, and for the welfare program, which gave us food stamps and cash for living. From the bottom of my heart, I thank this country for accepting us, the Immigrants!

      …….

      We were happy, excited and ready for a new start in America; then we started missing our old country. It was difficult to make friends. We missed our house and our native language which we understood. Most of Mom’s relatives lived in Vancouver. She seemed to be happy, being close to her family. But our Father missed his family in Ukraine. (He never saw his Mother again, as she died shortly after he left, but he saw his Father ten years later.) Our parents worried about how we were going to live in America. They did not have jobs and language was a barrier. Our Father stayed home with the younger children and received Social Security disability.

      English was taught in my Mom’s school, but that had been twenty years before, therefore, she had limited English skills. It was difficult to function in America, and Mom understood that she would need to get a job requiring English. She constantly tried to learn the English language. I remember seeing her often fall asleep with an English/Russian dictionary in her hands.

      My Father had learned German in the Ukrainian school as had the rest of the family, so we all had to start learning English. When shopping, Father carried a pencil and paper with him and drew a picture of what he needed. We, three older girls, were placed in ninth grade in the English as a Second Language (ESL) program. At our school many immigrants spoke Russian, so we did not feel lonely.

      Our Mom became pregnant with her ninth child. We desperately needed a larger home. My parents looked at a few houses, but no one would rent to such a big family. One day they were buying a newspaper at a gas station and met a lady named Patricia.

      “Come back in two hours. I will give you the key to my two-story, three-bedroom rental house,” Patricia said.

      “Thank you so much. We see your kind act as help from God,” my Mom answered.

      Our new house was in another part of Vancouver, therefore, we had to change schools. Because we knew very few students who spoke Russian, school became more challenging. I could not say in English what I wanted to say; if I said something wrong, I felt embarrassed. Most of the time I just remained quiet.

      Making friends was difficult. I prayed to God to send me a good friend. Soon I met Katya, a new immigrant, who also did not speak English. We became friends. That day, I remember, I shared the news with Katya,

      “My baby sister was born today. Her name is Vera. She is ninth in our family!”

      Since then we are the best friends with Katya until today. It has been 25 years!

      The first two years in High School I took English as a Second Language class. As a Junior, I took ninth grade’s Standard English and received my first “A”. I was so proud of myself! Those hard days with the dictionary in my hands finally paid off. During my last year in High School, I completed a Legal/Medical Office Applications program at Clark County Skills Center. After graduating from high school, I started college.

      Our school provided us with summer jobs. My first summer in America, I was fournteen and working at a day care center for $4.25 per hour. With my earnings I could buy what I needed and give any extra money to my Father for the family. As children and now as adults, we have always had a great relationship with our parents. They were generous with us and we all shared our resources.

      At age sixteen, I completed a traffic safety program at my high school and received my driver’s license! It was not an easy accomplishment for me, but I managed to pass the test. Having a driver’s license enabled me to help my Mom, as she did not drive at that time.

      After four years in America, our Mom had her tenth child, our beautiful baby sister, Anna. Parents were praying to God to help them buy a small, affordable house. One day, they just drove around Vancouver and saw a “For Sale” sign on an old and inexpensive house on one acre of land. They had no credit history, no English language, and could only afford a small payment. They met with the owner.

      “God tells me to sell this house to this man,” the owner proclaimed pointing at my Father.

      “Thank you so much for selling the house to us without even checking our credit history or income. We feel God’s love to us through your action,” my Father responded gratefully.

      My parents bought the house and felt so lucky. The payment was low; once more God took care of us. At this time, man’s word and a handshake was his bond. We remodeled the house and our Mom opened a child care business in it. We all helped her.

      …….

      My husband’s parents, Sergey and Olga Anischenko, lived in Sukhumi, in the country of Georgia, where Oleg was born. Within a year, they moved 6,300 miles to Nakhodka, Russia, by the Japanese Sea, to be closer to his Mother’s family. Oleg was the second son in the family of five sons and one daughter. Both of his parents worked as tailors at a sewing company, and his Father had a second job, as a stoker at a coal company. They lived in their own house and had enough land to grow fruits, vegetables and berries. They worked hard to make a living.

      The Christians in Russia and all the satellite countries were persecuted. In 1976, many Christian families sought to immigrate to America for religious reasons. Oleg’s Father was persecuted and arrested for his religious, human rights work. When the iron curtain finally collapsed, Oleg’s family was allowed to emigrate in 1988.

      On a train, they rode 100 miles to Vladivostok. Then they flew 6,000 miles to Moscow, to get their immigration papers. Two weeks later they were able to board the train to Austria. Their family had purchased train tickets for a coupe wagon with beds, which is like a small room for the family. When Oleg’s Father tried to enter the train, he was pushed out by a military commander.

      “Go to the back of the train and ride with soldiers,” – the commander said.

      “But we have small children and bought the tickets for the coupe,” – Oleg’s Father objected.

      “You will ride with soldiers today,” – the commander answered rudely.

      Oleg’s family rushed to the back of the train, pushing their luggage on a metal cart. Oleg’s younger brother was running in front of the cart. He tripped, fell and his leg was deeply cut by the cart. The family had no time to stop. They