You'll laugh, but we actually left Ira and Zhora's with a purchase—an inexpensive but very nice fur coat. And not because they talked us into it, but because we liked it. Later we would drop by their little shop just like that, with no particular business. We chatted.
They came from Vladikavkaz. Ira studied to be a pharmacist, worked at a pharmacy, completed a correspondence course at North Caucasus University, and worked for a year as a chemist. Zhora is a mechanical engineer, graduated from an agricultural institute, also managed to work—at factories, in a design bureau—and could explain with his eyes closed how a gate valve 30ch6br differs from other pipeline fittings. At 28 he decided to change everything radically—and learned jewelry making. They got married, had children, and left in 1990. To Greece.
Zh.: — We didn't expect anything special from emigration. Our family lived perfectly well in Vladikavkaz. We didn't suffer, didn't struggle; we worked, studied...
Zh.: — We didn't expect anything special from emigration. Our family lived perfectly well in Vladikavkaz. We didn't suffer, didn't struggle; we worked, studied...
I.: — I took part in the elections here—I ran for local office. But our party—the neo-democrats—lost.
A good friend of ours decided to try to unseat the current district mayor, who had sat in his chair continuously for many years. They started putting together a team. I was supposed to gather Russian speakers around me. A few people voted for me, but there were no Russian speakers among them. Why? They were bought off at the very last moment. I don't know how many euros each got—200, 300...
And also—envy. Many who hadn't known me before voted for me. But acquaintances, friends with whom we had sat at the table many times, switched to the other side. They asked: why do you need this—you're doing well for yourself?
In our town of Thermi, with a population of twenty thousand, there are 200 Russian speakers, and I was their only candidate. I found them all through phone books, called each one, met with all of them. For two weeks my husband and I ran around like crazy.
I really enjoyed all this running around. And it revealed a great deal. After all, even enemies begin to respect you if you're worth something.
It's a pity we lost. I'd like to get reliable government work. And there were ideas. After all, our Pontians know little about the benefits they are entitled to; no one represents them in the government; they are cheated at every turn. I told them: let's unite—then we'll be seen and heard. There are programs we know nothing about. We need a person to handle all this. Take our small town, for instance. When my older children were small, I tried to keep them as busy as possible—sports, dancing, English, and so on. We had to pay a lot for all those clubs. But my youngest goes to the same clubs at a special center for new immigrants, and for free now. We could create many such programs. If we worked on it and didn't embezzle the money.
There is a degradation of Pontians. Educated people arrive, cannot find work, lack money for their children's education—no means to pay for clubs or extra classes in private schools. Children are left without secondary school certificates, dare not even think about higher education, and naturally fall out of their peer environment—or rather, cannot enter it, cannot integrate; they form their own clans that do not mix with Greeks and feel hostility toward them and from them. This is especially true of children who were brought to Greece at age 12–15. By the time they learn Greek, without parental support—parents fighting for a roof over their heads, for their children not to go hungry—there is neither strength nor time left for education and adaptation.
Greece has high unemployment. It is difficult for native residents to find a job in their specialty, let alone immigrants. First, you have to have your diploma recognized. I did that fairly quickly, but still didn't find a job. Most start with cleaning. That is, they start from a zero position in society. And anger boils inside you. Your employer-mistress may be completely illiterate, but she pays you a salary. For that, you hate her. She may be polite, offer you coffee or even feed you lunch—but all this humiliates you.
Some get jobs at factories or in sewing workshops. There you are surrounded and supervised by people of a lower level. Immediate diagnosis: they are all morons. But they are not morons at all; it's just that in the Union, teachers and engineers moved in a completely different environment. If in Russia you left your chemist job and went to a workshop sewing underwear, you would meet many good people there, even without chemical education, and they would all seem like morons to you.
Here men start with construction. To you, a doctor, your colleagues on the construction crew seem inadequate. They are indeed not doctors. But they are literate and experienced people in their construction trade, perfectly able to lay bricks.
By the way, about doctors. They turned out to be in a better position than other specialists. Special language courses and preparation for the professional exam were organized for them, and they were offered internships in local clinics. Doctors earn well here, and there is demand for our medical professionals.
Unfortunately, nothing of the sort is offered to, say, schoolteachers, and practically all of them had to leave the profession...
My husband and I each earn 600 euros at this shop. We also get something from sales. It's neither much nor little—probably the average salary in the country. A doctor at a state hospital gets at least a thousand plus insurance plus pension contributions. Good and reliable. Renting an apartment is very expensive: in Thessaloniki, no less than 300 euros.
We bought ourselves an apartment in a luxurious place, 10 km from Thessaloniki. The apartment has three floors. The first is auxiliary, on the second is the living room and kitchen, and on the third are three bedrooms and a bathroom. Downstairs, on 66 square meters, with a separate entrance, live Zhorik's parents, they came from Russia only three years ago. It was for the arrival of grandfather and grandmother that we acquired this mansion.
My husband is Greek. We came here to raise our children as Greeks, to take root in this country. If you have come to live forever, have established a reputation as a decent person, do everything not to tarnish your name, you are obliged to understand the people who accepted you, helped with money and are ready to help in the future.
The Greeks did not expect that so many and such diverse people would come. The sudden flood of people who did not know the language or local culture turned out to be a complete - and not very pleasant - surprise for them.
Personally, I have no complaints against this people. Perhaps that is why I feel good here. And it is not so important by what paths people came - whether a person bought Greek documents, married a Greek man or woman. What matters is his intentions. If someone came as a Varangian, to make a quick buck and go back, the local society immediately feels it and treats him accordingly.
We met an Armenian married couple. She is a pharmacist, he is a jeweler. They don't have citizenship, they live here on a 'green card'. They don't try to pass for Greeks, but they try to integrate into society, and they succeed.
Pontic Greeks here don't have the reputation of thieves and robbers that Albanians do. But they don't get along with each other either, trying to impose in someone else's monastery the laws by which they lived in the Caucasus or in Moscow. That is why local Greeks in the main are not happy about the influx of immigrants. And by appearance they cannot distinguish a newly arrived Greek from a Georgian.
When we were leaving, our daughter Eleonora was eight years old, Grigoris - five. Naturally, we spoke only Russian at home. Upon arrival, we started looking for housing away from places densely populated by people from Russia. We wanted our children to grow up in a purely Greek environment, so that they wouldn't have complexes and problems.
It was hard at first - for us and for the children. Together, surrounded by dictionaries, we tried to do homework. They went to extra classes at school. And, of course, they quickly surpassed us in the language. It took them a year to fully adapt. In 1990 there were still very few of our people here... Everyone I met on my path, absolutely everyone, was ready to help me and my children. Neighbors helped. There was a wonderful teacher at school. Every day she made my daughter an individual vocabulary list of 10 words: a picture and the Greek word. Since my daughter was embarrassed to answer in class, during breaks we showed the teacher everything we had learned the previous day. I did math, physics, and chemistry with the children. My principle was: children must develop, no matter in what language - we'll sort it out later.
We managed. My daughter is already in her third year at the institute, my son has finished school.
Getting into an institute here is difficult. The system is very complex. When my daughter was entering, she had to take four exams. Not for any specific university, but in a chosen field. The results of all applicants were processed centrally, and a passing score was determined for each faculty of each university. Only after the calculation could the applicant assess where he would be accepted. Based on her scores, my daughter remained in Thessaloniki, she studies in Kastoria at the Institute of International Trade.
Now this system is changing. School education consists of six years of primary school, three years of gymnasium, and another three years of lyceum. The one who reaches the lyceum and successfully completes it already becomes an applicant. A big dropout occurs after gymnasium. Those who do not meet the level of the lyceum are offered to enter professional schools - to get a specialty. True, after vocational school one can also enter a university.
Our son is already in the third grade of the lyceum. Now he has continuous exams. I compare his schooling with my daughter's, and I see how much more difficult everything has become. Earlier, everyone was pulled up to the last grade. Now even a school leaving certificate is very difficult to obtain. And in the last three years of lyceum, when the student already has to choose one of four tracks - humanities, engineering, exact sciences, or medicine - very intensive study begins, and for the slightest lag they expel you.
In the beginning, I had moments when I was ready to go work as a cleaner. But another me would wake up, one that would start hating the whole world. I realized that I couldn't do that - I immediately become a bad person. In short, I did not wake the beast inside me. I decided: I need to look for qualified work, and for that, first of all, I need to learn the language so that I cannot be distinguished from locals. I often get this compliment: you speak like a Greek woman who has lived abroad for many years. That is, in a somewhat flawed language.
My diploma says: chemist-biologist. As a biologist, I was formally recognized in Greece; as a chemist, no. I wanted to go work as a biologist in a hospital laboratory. We walked up to the building of that hospital, there was a crowd of eager candidates - hundreds, if not thousands, applied for one vacancy. Many spoke excellent English, knew several other foreign languages, knew computers, some had completed graduate school, some had a doctorate, publications, and so on. I stood around, looked around, and didn't even take out my documents. I turned around and left. Only a high-level specialist can get this position. So even as a biologist, I did not succeed here.
This is what we try to instill in our children. And we try to put them in such conditions that they learn to survive. Exactly to survive. With unemployment here, the place goes to the one who is better than others.
In general, I didn't go to work as a cleaner or to a factory. I preferred to stay home and raise children. After all, our third child was already born in Greece. This required courage: I was 35 – a promising age for employment. I helped Zhorik in his jewelry workshop, sat at a workbench, kept the books, purchased chemicals and metals, dealt with clients. And all those years I was looking for a job. But when the children were small, I dreamed of a job that was close to home with convenient hours. I really wanted to find a position as a biologist, or a chemist, or a pharmacist. It didn't work out.
Regarding military service, here's how it stands. While you are studying, you get a deferment. But at some point, you still have to go to the army. My children are not affected by this, but immigrants who came to Greece after reaching the age of 12 serve under a reduced program – six months. True, the service term for native Greeks is also being shortened. This year's conscripts serve 12 months. The country intends to create a professional army – 50,000 contract soldiers, while the rest will undergo basic training.
But this is not Chechnya or Afghanistan, there is no hazing here, so the army doesn't frighten us. The conditions are very mild; in the final stage of service, soldiers often come home. Such an army is only beneficial.
Our Pontic brethren do not have a very good reputation, and children often feel ashamed of their origins. When we drive in the car with Grigoris and his friend, and we speak to each other in Russian with Zhorik in their presence, Grigoris gets terribly angry. I think this complex will go away when he understands what Russia is and that there is nothing shameful in his origin. Quite the opposite, in fact. And we patiently wait for him to grow up.
My daughter didn't have this to such an extent. The only thing she didn't want was Pontic suitors. Usually Greek women don't give them a second glance, so they are left with their own.
Too bad for those who came to teach Greeks how to live.
Both of my older children graduated from a private school. It's a supplementary school for preparing for university entrance. In the morning children attend a free public school, and in the evening a private one.
Greece has a rather strange system that financially suffocates parents. For a child to successfully complete their school course, they must also attend a private school for extra classes in the subjects they will be examined on. Parents and children sort of absolve themselves of responsibility: the child thinks that since they attend these classes, they shouldn't have any problems, and the parents think: I pay, so my mission is accomplished. Moreover, many attend extra classes in all subjects except physical education and singing. Children don't want to sit down and memorize history, geography, biology, literature – they expect that for money everything will be poured into their heads.
We agreed to pay only for physics and mathematics for our son. That will cost us 1,800 euros for the year. They also offered to study ancient Greek and take a course on essay writing, but he refused. And if you take all subjects, that pleasure would run to 3,000 euros. The state is now actively fighting this system and organizes extra classes right at school – for free. Children are even given sandwiches.
This system can be compared to the hospital one. There are public clinics and private ones. In a private one, say, a woman in labor will have a private room and comfort. In other respects, it is inferior to a public hospital: it lacks the equipment, lacks the experienced doctors and midwives. If a patient in a private clinic develops the slightest complication, she is immediately transferred to a public one. We studied this matter very thoroughly when we decided where to give birth to our third child.
Of course, it is prestigious to give birth in a private clinic. But my husband said: never mind, you'll lie in a large ward, but under the supervision of qualified doctors.
In state universities, education is free. True, there are no scholarships either. Only the very best students receive some irregular rewards. There is a free student cafeteria. Many universities have dormitories. They house the least well-off based on parental income. By that indicator, Eleonora would have gotten a place in a dormitory, but her institute doesn't have one. Instead, they reimburse part of her rent. She rents a small apartment for 150 euros. And she works a little to not burden us with her problems.
Compared to institutes, universities have a higher status. After an institute, one can continue education at a university, where the passing score is higher. This system is slowly changing: university and institute education are being equalized.
Those who fail to get into university in Greece go abroad. Athens Polytechnic is among the top five universities in Europe, and the University of Thessaloniki is in the top ten. World-famous universities – Harvard, the Sorbonne, Oxford, Stanford – don't count; only the truly capable go there. Those who didn't manage to get in at home go to one of three hundred English business schools, or to universities in Eastern Europe – Bulgaria, the Czech Republic.
In this regard, the question of diploma recognition even arose. After all, now that Greece has become part of a united Europe, people from European countries can participate in competitions for vacant positions on equal terms. A German in Greece, and a Greek in Germany. But in that case, diplomas from different countries must be recognized as equivalent. Therefore, the Greek education system is changing. And – separately – the question of equivalence of diplomas from Eastern European countries is being examined, specifically regarding people from the former USSR. The distrust is still too great. It is openly stated from the parliamentary rostrum that people from Georgia buy university diplomas.
In general, no one was ready for such a crazy wave of immigrants from the East - neither the people nor the police. Our people, especially those who came from Georgia, felt that they had fallen into an absolutely uncontrollable world; they went crazy with freedom - do whatever you want, steal, kill, rob, sell drugs. The Greeks at the embassy also quickly figured out where money could be made - and fake documents started flowing. Now they have come to their senses, but the main flow has already passed. It is this that has left a negative residue that every immigrant feels on himself: oh, so you're from the Soviets, that means you're just as thieving and dishonest... And a long time will pass before society gets rid of its prejudiced attitude toward immigrants. To make it believe that the bulk of our people are conscientious workers, with normal ideas about family, duty to children, honestly earning their piece of bread.
Americans say: 25% of immigrants are criminals, fraudsters, slippery types. So the remaining 75% have to wash themselves clean.
Before the immigrants arrived, Greece was very calm. If there was stealing, it was on a grand scale. Then it started. The Albanians especially distinguished themselves. They crossed the border illegally in droves and felt here like in the prairies. They raided dachas, carried away everything. Border villages were forced to arm themselves - people were afraid to go out. A special border police was organized to guard the northern villages.
Then they introduced 'green cards'. You can hire a foreigner, but you must officially register him. Meanwhile, illegal immigrants are caught and deported from the country.
And it became calm.
Big cities have their own problems. Especially where many of our people have gathered. The police were thoroughly shaken up and reformed - kicked out of cozy offices, placed in problem areas, given additional powers: now they have the right to stop cars and check documents.
Zh.: - How we left... There was no money for the road. At that time they exchanged for a family - and even then only in Moscow - $500. We sold the house in Vladikavkaz, furniture. We collected 50-60 thousand - big money at the time, but rubles. What to do with them, where to put them? We bought carpets, kettles, samovars, axes - all sorts of junk. And upon arrival in Greece, we went with this stuff to the market.
Of course, I brought all my jewelry tools with me, even ordered a new workbench. I was very proud of it. I brought it - and almost burned with shame: 'Where did you dig up this wonder?' - the dumbfounded local carpenters asked me.
I came first with my sister's husband. To prepare some ground, to rent at least an apartment. And twenty days later Ira and my sister with the children arrived. They came on Friday, and on Tuesday I already went to work. I walked around jewelry shops and workshops... Worked in one place for a few weeks, in another. In the basement I made a bracelet with niello and went around showing it.
One boss said: this doesn't interest me, I'm interested in zodiac signs. He gave me a little money right away and advised who could help me master the European engraving technique accepted here. I knew the Kubachi one - the eastern one. I had to change my tools too - learn to work with German gravers. The boss and I agreed on terms - and for 10 years we observed these terms. He was a normal person - he didn't try to aggravate my immigrant difficulties and profit from them. He understood that a good craftsman should not be squandered. We agreed that if I reached the required productivity and quality by May, he would pay me like local craftsmen. I worked, and he paid me decent money.
Now I have stepped away from this business. I'm very tired. All these years I had to work 12 hours a day. After work I couldn't even lift my bag. And the unbearable monotony - with these zodiac signs I thought I would go mad.
One sets a goal and pushes toward it, not distracted by anything; another will go around it. I will never overwork myself for a material goal. A white yacht is worth perseverance. Everything else is incidental. I'm building a house so as not to worry about my family, raising children so as to calmly detach from them when I go sailing. My dream is to raise a sail and set off on a long voyage.
I.: - This is not a metaphor, by the way: Zhorik is putting together a crew...
Often Russian celebrities - writers, actors, scientists, musicians - claim that among immigrants there are no happy people, none who would feel spiritual comfort in a new country, be at peace with themselves.
I disagree. We are at home here, we are very comfortable, we are surrounded by nice, friendly people. And if someone offers me to return, I will be very offended. What would I do there? It's like heaven and earth! Maybe residents of capitals lack something in a small town, in a small country. But we are provincials...
Zh.: - I have one weakness - my work. As soon as I manage to organize my own business that will give me the standard of living I claim, I will consider myself a happy man. So that I can cover current expenses and have a little extra for my wandering pleasures. Not for bathing women in champagne, but to travel, to see the sights. After all, I haven't climbed all over Greece yet.
I want to be a bit of a cosmopolitan, to expand the concept of homeland in which we were all brought up. At some point in life Afghanistan almost became my homeland, then the Baltics detached themselves and ceased to be my homeland. If I come to Russia, I will hear somewhere: what are you doing here, you darkie, your homeland is not here. I already come to Vladikavkaz as a bit of a stranger. There is a circle of classmates and fellow students, it's nice to see them. But here too, my own history has already appeared, people with whom we have lived side by side for ten years now. No joke.
Mia chara. In Greek - one joy.
There are Russians here who are stuck. They teach their children Russian first, and only then Greek. Why do you torment yourself and your children? Go back if it's better for you there. No, they don't leave: they curse, swear, are dissatisfied with everything and everyone, but they stay.
I.: - We have many acquaintances who are neither here nor there. They sit, whine - no, they say, it is better for us at home. They go. And from there it seems to them that Greece is better. And again everything is not to their liking. In my opinion, this is just laxity: we could not allow ourselves anything like that - we came here with two children, we could not drag them around.
And the family I am talking about had a child only a year ago. They are already over forty. And until last year they fluttered carefree between Greece and Russia. My son Gavalidis is Greek. And since we have come, he must grow up a Greek, get an education in Greece. And then let him choose for himself where to live.