I Am American Pt. 2
A lot happened in the 12 years Grandpa was in the United States before his wife and children joined him. Sponsored by a friend, or family member, in Colorado he bought a farm, worked hard, and became wealthy and powerful. I grew up in an enclave environment in the heart of Eastern Colorado. My grandfather and other members of the community who had immigrated from Kraft or Frank Russia started the church I grew up in – its members were like my family. But, I have jumped ahead of time and space for if my Grandmother had not come to Colorado, I would not have been born.
After my Grandfather left for the U.S., Grandma and the children went to live his parents for economic and political safety. As my Grandmother told my mother (remember, Mom was born in Colorado), members of the Bolshevik army frequented her village looking for deserters, food, and company. To keep young girls safe, the adults would often hide them in closets when the army came to the village. My grandmother, though, was raped, producing an illegitimate child. A few years later, Grandpa’s father sent him a letter suggesting he arrange for his family to join him in Colorado. And so began many years of governmental red tape, political injustice, and the struggle for power among family members.
Though my mother’s family eventually entered the United States, they made the oceanic trip three times before they were allowed into the U.S. Twice, as they disembarked onto North American soil, they were rejected (for reasons unknown), given passage back to the Gulf of Riga, and sent home. Determined to get his family to Colorado, Grandpa enlisted the services of a neighbor. [this next small part has changed due to my mother correcting our collective memory] The man who offered to drive all the way to Canada and bring Grandpa's family to the U.S., farmed, like Grandpa did and he was willing to do anything for the right price. Grandpa and his neighbor struck up a deal: the farmer would provide safe entry into the U.S. and he would wait for payment until Grandpa’s family settled into their new life. Payment would never be remitted, however.
It is difficult for those of us not of that era to understand that the trip from Kraft to the ship my ancestors would board for North America was long, difficult, and dangerous. They had to walk about 450 miles to Moscow and from there it would be another 450+ miles to the Gulf of Riga, where we have the first documentation of their passage. It was not a simple walk – they had to avoid scavengers and the Imperialist Army. My aunt was only six years old, my uncle - 12, and the oldest girl - 15. I don’t know if they had transportation from Moscow to the Gulf of Riga or if they walked. My mother remembers her brother explaining that before they left Kraft, they each bought a new pair of used shoes and by the time they had walked to the ship, traveled to North America, and then sent home again, the soles of their shoes were completely worn through. It took them years of walking and traveling to be able to stay with my grandfather in the U.S.
A simplistic method of entering the United States was not reality for my mother’s family. Payment for safe entry onto American soil was too great and because of that, I never had the chance to meet my mother’s oldest sister. My grandmother, too, died before I was born.
More to come: The trickery used to secure safe exit from the ship, payment for passage, and the loss of a dream.
After my Grandfather left for the U.S., Grandma and the children went to live his parents for economic and political safety. As my Grandmother told my mother (remember, Mom was born in Colorado), members of the Bolshevik army frequented her village looking for deserters, food, and company. To keep young girls safe, the adults would often hide them in closets when the army came to the village. My grandmother, though, was raped, producing an illegitimate child. A few years later, Grandpa’s father sent him a letter suggesting he arrange for his family to join him in Colorado. And so began many years of governmental red tape, political injustice, and the struggle for power among family members.
Though my mother’s family eventually entered the United States, they made the oceanic trip three times before they were allowed into the U.S. Twice, as they disembarked onto North American soil, they were rejected (for reasons unknown), given passage back to the Gulf of Riga, and sent home. Determined to get his family to Colorado, Grandpa enlisted the services of a neighbor. [this next small part has changed due to my mother correcting our collective memory] The man who offered to drive all the way to Canada and bring Grandpa's family to the U.S., farmed, like Grandpa did and he was willing to do anything for the right price. Grandpa and his neighbor struck up a deal: the farmer would provide safe entry into the U.S. and he would wait for payment until Grandpa’s family settled into their new life. Payment would never be remitted, however.
It is difficult for those of us not of that era to understand that the trip from Kraft to the ship my ancestors would board for North America was long, difficult, and dangerous. They had to walk about 450 miles to Moscow and from there it would be another 450+ miles to the Gulf of Riga, where we have the first documentation of their passage. It was not a simple walk – they had to avoid scavengers and the Imperialist Army. My aunt was only six years old, my uncle - 12, and the oldest girl - 15. I don’t know if they had transportation from Moscow to the Gulf of Riga or if they walked. My mother remembers her brother explaining that before they left Kraft, they each bought a new pair of used shoes and by the time they had walked to the ship, traveled to North America, and then sent home again, the soles of their shoes were completely worn through. It took them years of walking and traveling to be able to stay with my grandfather in the U.S.
A simplistic method of entering the United States was not reality for my mother’s family. Payment for safe entry onto American soil was too great and because of that, I never had the chance to meet my mother’s oldest sister. My grandmother, too, died before I was born.
More to come: The trickery used to secure safe exit from the ship, payment for passage, and the loss of a dream.
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