Russians try American life
By Judy Taylor Cramer
Managing editor, Florida State Times
Smiles are scarce these days in Moscow: times are hard, hearts are heavy,
and daily life is a struggle.
For one Russian family, starting from scratch in Tallahassee also has been
a struggle. But smiles are everywhere here, and their hearts are full of
hope.
The Khankhasayev family came for a visit almost two years ago, but decided
to stay awhile, in part because of the warm welcome and help they received
from the international community at FSU.
Mikhail Khankhasayev, a nuclear physicist, works as a senior research associate
at FSU's Institute for Central and Eastern European Cooperative Environmental
Research.
His daughter Evgenia, on leave from law school in Moscow, is a freshman
in the School of Music.
His wife Irina is an author of Russian books about child rearing, and sons
Nikita (Nicky), 6, and Alexander (Alyosha), 14, are students at Gilchrist
Elementary and Raa Middle schools.
"I was lucky I began to discover the United States in Tallahassee and
not a place like New York City," says Irina, who first came to America
to lecture about the new Russian democracy. "I was not planning to
stay here. I came with one suitcase with just some clothes for me and the
kids."
Now, at the request of a Moscow publisher, she is writing a book on the
upbringing of American children.
As a member of the international scientific community, Mikhail had met FSU
Physics professor and colleague Hans Plendl at professional meetings. After
visiting FSU several times, Mikhail brought his family here at the invitation
of Peter Gielisse, a professor at the FAMU/FSU College of Engineering, and
his wife Inga. It was soon afterward that the Khankhansayevs decided to
settle here
"I first wanted to learn more of this country and its opportunities,"
he says. "I realized that I like the United States much better. I like
the atmosphere here, especially in the scientific community. You can meet
people from different countries. They're happy here. They can work."
Hard times have changed the Russian people, they say. Going from store to
store only to find empty shelves has made people bitter and some have turned
to crime.
"Every day in Moscow you must worry about your safety just to take
a walk," Mikhail says.
Evgenia, the younger of their two daughters, came to Tallahassee last summer
to visit her family. In Moscow, she had been studying piano for eight years
when her dreams of a career were shattered by an accident that cut the muscles
in her arm.
"It would have been better to break the hand than cut the muscles,"
she says.
Evgenia didn't touch a piano for more than a year. In the highly competitive
world of Russian music education, she no longer had any chance of being
admitted to a conservatory.
But while Evgenia was here, Helen Buzyna, a Russian-speaking member of the
staff of the FSU School of Music, helped arrange an audition for her.
The young woman, who thought her dreams of being a pianist had ended at
14, played so well that she was admitted to FSU in January as a music major.
Still on leave from law school, Evgenia planned to return to Moscow in May
to decide between a career in law there or one in music here. Her father
has also returned to his homeland, to conduct an international workshop
on the transmutation of nuclear waste materials that he and Plendl had organized.
The Khankhasayevs don't know if they will stay in the United States forever.
Mikhail worries about how he will support his family as government money
dwindles for scientific research.
Irina worries that she may never understand our complicated health care
system. In Russia, where health care is free, she never had to deal with
selecting a physician, filling out insurance forms and understanding a bureaucratic
language more foreign than English.
But they're quick to say they're not complaining. They're proud that Nicky
is learning new words first in English, that Alex won second place in a
countywide essay contest, and that Evgenia achieved success in her first
semester at FSU.
And they're smiling.