During the fall of 2001, I participated in the Council for Christian College's Russian Studies Program with 14 other students from Christian colleges and universities. Having traveled from 13 different colleges in 11 different states, including Texas, California, Oregon, Minnesota, Virginia, and New York, we challenged each other through our varied experiences with faith and learning. We studied under Dr. Harley Wagler, a stimulating thinker and inspiring mentor. Fluent in 6 languages, he also holds a Ph.D in Slavic Literature.
6 September 2001
We're 2 hours into our 16-hour overnight train ride from St. Petersburg to Nizhni Novgorod, and I'm not so sure that I'm prepared for whatever is ahead at the University. Harley was pretty realistic about what we should expect during these next 12 weeks. He told us that we will be FRUSTRATED (and this word doesn't even exist in Russian!)-frustrated with toilets, food, weather, each other; with the patriarchal tone of this society, with its unpredictability and complex language. I am overwhelmed by how much there is to learn, and I feel completely inadequate for the journey ahead.
20 September 2001
This language is so unfathomable; it makes Spanish seem like pig Latin!
3 October 2001
My mind keeps returning to the beautiful young faces that I left at the orphanage several hours ago . . .those faces that are both young and old. Their stories are similar: Olga's mom was a drug addict, Sasha's dad was abusive, both ran away and the police found and delivered both to the orphanage. This particular home is more like a temporary shelter where the kids can stay for 6 months, then either returning home or moving to the permanent orphanage, where they'll live until age 16 or 17. Why can't I take these children with me? Why do they have to be in positions that would even make "taking them home" desirable? Why is my life so blessed, and why do these children have to constantly suffer?
26 October 2001
The first week with my Russian family has been amazing-they are incredible people, so kind and hospitable. Even if I've returned home late from the university, someone always sits down with me while I eat my dinner. They have truly made me part of their family, even 3-year old Vladik, who loves to play. I (attempted to) read to him from one of his Russian children's books, but he kept correcting my pronunciation: "Masha, net!" ("Maria, no!") he would say.
Who needs 12 hours of weekly Russian language classes when you have a 3-year old tutor?
1 December 2001
How wonderful to have my entire Russian family with me at the University's farewell party tonight. I didn't know it until yesterday, but it's the first time (out of 6 previous American students) that the entire family has attended. My mother has been saying for a few weeks now, "How can our American daughter leave us?" My 16-year old sister, Yana, looks so sad whenever reference is made to my December 3rd departure. And today, little Vladik promised me that he'd dance with me if I didn't leave for America . . . how tempting.
10 December 2001
Harley took us to an incredible Bulgarian restaurant in the middle of Moscow tonight and ordered us "Kashkaval," a fried cheese made from Bulgarian sheep's milk. After gorging ourselves with Bulgarian food, our check came to 3,000 rubles ($100) for only 8 of us-3 times my host mother's monthly salary. Harley admitted his struggle over the implications of this disparity, and a memorable conversation about simplicity followed, with words that I will not soon forget. "Simplicity is a conviction," Harley remarked. "It must originate from within."
14 December 2001
As we left Russia this morning, I was consumed with the sad realization that I may never see Russia again, this country whose soul I have come to love. Russia, with its crazy transportation systems, unorganized lines, countless kiosks, cold weather, fur hats, and gold teeth. Russia is the country in which I have experienced a taste of genuine hospitality, where I have fallen in love with a Russian family and endearing orphans, where my appreciation for culture-including own, with its freedoms and efficiencies-has deepened. I have witnessed another of God's expressions, the Russian Orthodox faith. My 3-½ months in this country have given me the foundation and courage to finally tackle Russian literature-I love its honesty and depth, its brutal confrontation of questions and doubts, its ability to acknowledge suffering and pain without concocting simple answers. Back in August, 15-½ weeks in Russia seemed like an enormous stretch of time. But now I realize how quickly it has passed. And what a concentrated journey it has been.
Author Note :
These journal entries were first published in the Houghton Star, the student newspaper of Houghton College.