Author Archives: Navin Rana

Jana Jefimova’s Interview As Told to Navin Rana

Posted on by
Reply

Jana Jefimova first came to America on a visit, and never expected to stay. However, when she went back to her native Estonia, she fell in love with America and she decided to move here permanently. She reflected over how her homeland and family dynamic influenced who she is and how she raises her daughter.

In the Motherland

I was born in Estonia, and it’s a small Baltic country. We used to be part of the USSR, and then in 1991 we become independent. So until 1938 to 1991, it was a part of Russian Federation, but that was a few years. Over 900 years back, it was a small, small Baltic country.

It’s my motherland. I was born there, my first steps there, my first words there, my education there; it’s my land. We have some relatives there. Of course there’s some warm nice feelings. So there’s some part of us here, and there’s some part of us there.

At age 7, I decided to be a doctor. And, I got where I wanted. I was working in emergencies, in my country. But coming here, and with all these barriers and with family, you have to make some choices. I wanted to step down to be available to my family, to be available after 5 o’clock, and to be home and everything. So, I stepped down, and I started to work as a tech and now I’m a manager at a practice. Now, I’m happy, very happy.

The only thing is that I miss patients, I miss my medical background, and I miss that, because right now, especially past eight years, I’ve only had an administrative job.

A “Complicated” Family

Before World War II, half of my family came from St. Petersburg, which is Russia. So during war they escaped and came to Estonia. Some part coming from St. Petersburg, and my other side is the German side. So after World War II, my parents were born and the family stayed there. And, that’s how it was.

My mother is Estonian; her family comes from Germany. My father comes from St. Petersburg. My grandfather’s from St. Petersburg, and some relatives still live there. Some relatives in St. Petersburg, some in Germany, and whoever came before and during war, some of them stayed and started families in Estonia. Because Estonia was kind of in between.

My parents kept me aside, because I wasn’t accepted by one side and then I wasn’t accepted by another side. It was difficult. It was very difficult. I was not allowed to be in any family pictures on one side of the family, and I wasn’t accepted on the other side of the family. It was very, very difficult for me. And, that could change people. Thank God my parents are still together. It’s a very strong family. And, you take it as it is; trying to make your life easier. You can’t change the facts, you can’t change your relatives, but you have to deal with it. That’s your life, so you have to make the best out of the situation.

I am good with both sides these days. How it’s influenced me? I’ve become more independent. I was thinking who I should be and who I would be, not to follow anybody, not to harm anybody, not to make any bad choices. So, I guess I had to make myself, not in a different way, but I guess in my own way. And I respect um all traditions and I respect all holidays, but I’m very personal inside.

Raising a Daughter

My daughter was born here. She went to day care, to a Russian day care. All learning, all singing, all subjects were in Russian language. And, she went to elementary school for six years, and she had to take Russian language twice a week: read and write. At home, it was Russian-language, and sometimes she didn’t like it and she had to answer in English. But, now she knows how to read and write. She reads newspapers all the time. And, I think it’s great. She went to Estonia. Estonia has a different language, and she learned quite a few words and sentences. My mother speaks Estonian and Russian, since she was a native Estonian. So, I was exposed to a few languages in the family, and I daughter is exposed to multiple languages as well.

I have a story about my daughter. Once, I was called into the principal’s office during her elementary school. Because, they were learning about the letter ‘S’ in school. So every student had to say a word that started with the letter ‘S.’ So, when the principal called me, I came. So the teacher talked to me, and everyone was saying “sun” or “smile,” so this young lady says to the teacher, “you’re silly.” And the principal says to her, you can’t talk to teacher like this. You can’t call her silly, even if it starts with an ‘S.’ So, I sit down with her and tell my daughter, “you can’t call the teacher silly, even if she is at some point and it starts with the letter ‘s.’ Sometimes, you can’t say your thoughts out loud.” She says, “mommy, I didn’t.” I said “yes, you did. You called the teacher silly.” She replied “I didn’t say she is stupid.” So, I said to the principal that she’s right. It starts with the letter ‘s.’ But that was a good lesson to not share your thoughts with teachers or most people.

I am very proud of my daughter, as a mother. Expectations: she’s met most of them. I hope she’s gonna be happy. That she’s gonna achieve her own goals, because for me to be happy, I have to see my daughter happy. She’s a very good girl. I’m proud of her. I am sure, I am sure she’s gonna get where she wants to get. I hope she’ll be happy and have a lot of grandkids.

The American Psyche

I dealt with America like every one else. I don’t think America is a culture. I think it’s a mixture of different cultures. And it’s a great country, because anybody can be who they are, they can keep their traditions, and America opens this opportunity that you wouldn’t have maybe in other countries. At the same time, you’re exposed to different things, so you have a great opportunity learn and experience life in general. So, it gives you lots and lots of choices. It is a free country.

Actually, the first time I came here, it was not my intention to stay here. I really liked how it felt here. Then, I went back to my country, and I missed America. I missed how I felt here. I felt the air is fresher and I felt better here as a person. Maybe because of my family. I just felt great and that’s what made me come here.

I came to America from a very conservative country, with very deep long traditions. And, I um think people had fewer choices in their lives and everything in Estonia. I think it is a great country. They give free education, a good education, the people are nice, they’re smart and they’re honest, but they would close their doors to me. When you’re here, you just know the country is yours, it’s very difficult to explain.

America is everything; everything you see is America. It depends what you want in your life. It gives you choices. You see here everything you want to see.

The transition to America was very easy, because when you’re here, in Brooklyn, you’re surrounded by Russian-speaking people, Russian food, Russian day cares, and obviously Russian elementary schools. Basically, you replace leaving in a way with more opportunities. I didn’t feel very negative. I came here the feel that this is mine. I have to live here to, so I have to make the best out of the situation. That part to me was easy.

This is my home now. Estonia is my home and it’s my families home. Of course, they come visit here, but my home is here. My home is where my family is and my family is here.

Last time we went to Estonia was three years ago, and we’re planning to go back soon. But, my parents coming here often, so do my cousins. And, I speak with them every single week. I have to call there. I have to speak with them. With my aunts, with my grandmothers, with everybody there.

Here is where everybody has a place. Everybody can find their place.

The Unexpected Bus Driver

Posted on by
Reply

By: Navin Rana

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On Madison Avenue

During rush hour on a rainy day, the M3 bus is packed to the brim with people, but oddly the one ray of warmth is the surprisingly jovial bus driver.

This 64-year-old Russian man, Dmitry Poliakov, with nothing but white hair, at first glance looks like the last person who would actually smile on the bus, but is instead, literally, the first person to do so.

He often engages in conversation with the daily passengers of the bus, who see him frequently throughout the week. These conversations frequently involve just jokes back and forth.

Someone might just come onto the bus and ask Dmitry, “How was your day, man?” He would just smile and look at the rider and say “It was great, but I really could ask for better traffic and weather though.” This rider, grinning, would respond “you said the same thing last week.”

As a bus driver, it is completely understandable why Dmitry would ask for better traffic and weather. However, when this traffic during a rainy day can cause many accidents, he remains remarkably calm. Another bus driver in his position would be screaming with his or her head half out of the window, while honking the horn. There is simply a sense of peace that emanates from him.

Dmitry believes his composure comes from his time as a government chemist while in the former USSR. He says the “experiments took a very long time, so I have some patience and I am able to wait for many things. Like my wife, when she is getting ready.”

Dmitry was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, which back then was still called the USSR. He started working as a chemist for the government in the 1970s, but he chose to leave the country, because of the political destabilization that was taking place in the Union during the late 1980s.

When arriving in the United States, he had trouble finding a job as a chemist, partly because of his thick accent—which accompanied his surprisingly impeccable English—and mainly because many people did not value the level of Russian or foreign higher education. When asked about how he became a bus driver, he said “I had a friend who was came from Odessa who recommended the job, and he said it was an easy job.” After a while, he got the hang of driving in Manhattan, but decided to keep the job since it paid the bills and he liked talking to the different riders.

Much like the many riders that come onto Dmitry’s bus, he takes public transportation to get to his own job. He wakes up by 6 a.m. and takes the subway to get to the bus terminal by 8 a.m. and drive the bus, which he completes usually at 6 p.m. After the work day, he goes home, eats dinner, spends time with his children, and goes to sleep. In his words, “it’s a simple, but fairly rewarding life.”

It is a rewarding job, but Dmitry says he will retire within the next ten years, after his two daughters graduate college and eventually get married. Until then, average bus riders will keep seeing his smile while they walk onto his bus. Or, as one bus rider says “I like talking to him, because he is such a nice person. I don’t really know what it is exactly, but there’s just something about him that attracts you.”

Lantern

Posted on by
Reply
Lantern

Lantern by Lia. This photograph uses light and composition in an interesting manner. The lantern held by the subject of the portrait is held in front of the sunset, while there are no other light sources. In a very ethereal manner, it looks as though the sky is being lit by the lantern solely. The placement of the subject and lantern in the center cause all focus and attention to go there as well, since they are the only things above the plane of the ground.

Punjab Is In My Veins

Posted on by
Reply

Punjab is a state in the proud nation of India. It is known as a place of history, as the stronghold of the Sikh religion, and as an area with beautiful farmland and some cities. This is the Punjab that has flowed through the blood of my family for generations. This is the Punjab that flows my own veins, but sadly it is growing more and more dilute. It is losing its effect because my family moved here from Punjab in 1992, and I was not born until 1997; I have only ever been to Punjab once, in 2007.

In 1992, my parents decided to move my family—which then consisted of my parents, obviously, my 10-year-old brother, my 8-year-old brother, and my 4-year-old sister—for really only one reason: opportunity. There were many other times when my family could have moved before 1992. For example, in 1984, there was a wave of religious persecution against Sikhs in India, which resulted in the death of one of my maternal uncles. At the time, he was 27-years-old and living alone in the capital of New Delhi. After that trauma, my family could have left, but my family decided to stay. Then, in 1989, my paternal grandfather had passed away. He was and had been the patriarch of the family for over 40 years; this was the end of an era. Again, my family decided to stay until 1992, which was interesting, because there was nothing of significance that year, which was most likely why my parents decided to come at that time.

Another thing that fascinated me about my parents’ decision to come here was their condition in India. When most people think about immigrant stories, they tend to think about people coming from a small village with not much money, that are trying to “strike it big.” However, my family is actually very well off in India. In fact, when my father’s cousins came to visit, I was shocked to find out that they are billionaires—with a “b”—because they own a chain of hotels across India. Then in a wave succession, I found out that my father’s maternal uncle actually offered my father a business deal in the late 1980s, and my father turned it down since he eventually wanted to move to the United States. Today, that business is doing extremely well. Aside from wealth, my parents were also very well educated; my father had the equivalent of an M.B.A., and my mother—who is shown below—had the equivalent of a Ph.D. in History and was a professor for some time. After I had learned all of this, I began to question their decision to move to the United States, because they were doing well in India. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that they were brave for taking a risk, especially one that had more negative consequences than positive ones. This is actually very emblematic of how my parents instilled a belief of working to our fullest potential into my siblings and me.

20160223_065556

My mother. ca. 1992

Once my family got over the initial hurdle of moving to the United States, there were a string of many other problems that came to fruition as well. These problems mainly came from my family’s difficulty in assimilating to American culture and traditions. This is because these two cultures are entirely different.

One of the most persistent problems came from our religion. Sikhism is a religion that is commonly not understood amongst Americans. It is usually thought to be a sect of Hinduism or, mostly, Islam, because the main visual cue of Sikhism is the turban, which is adorned by men. The turban can often lead to the misrepresentation of Sikhs as terrorists. In fact, the first person to die from a hate crime after 9/11, was not a Muslim, but a Sikh man in Arizona who wore a turban. The turban—which my father used to wear as shown in the pictures below—is supposed to be a show of faith to the Sikh religion and as a sign of devotion. However, for my father it was a marker for discrimination, and, due to the negative connotation of the turban, he was not able to get a job when my family moved here. He had to cut off his hair.

20160223_065541

My father, before he cut his hair. ca. 1992

At first, this hurt him emotionally, but he understood he was doing this to better the lives of his children. However, only my father had cut his hair and my brothers keep their turbans. A picture of the two them, with their turbans, is also below. This fact did not last very long, because they were teased in high school and eventually had to cut their hair too in order to survive the rest of their lives. Then, interestingly, when I was born my parents decided to keep my hair long and have me wear a turban, even though no one else in the family did so. I was able to do this for some time, until my family moved from Queens to Long Island, when I was seven. At that time, the make up New Hyde Park was considerably white, and they did not understand why I wore a turban. This led to a large amount of teasing, which also can be explained by the fact that the year was 2004 and 9/11 was very much still fresh in the mind of Americans, since the “War on Terror” was going into full swing with the invasion of Iraq. Eventually, after few months of bullying and crying, my parents had enough and cut my hair. Due to this, I don’t feel like a true Sikh, because I cannot be identified with my religion. Even when I came to Brooklyn College, people always assumed I was Hindu, Christian, or Muslim, never Sikh. This was the first time that my connection to Punjab was diluted.

20160223_065548

My siblings. My brother Shafi (left), my sister Nydia (middle), and my brother Noni (right). ca. 1992

My second realization, that I was losing my connection to Punjab, came to me when I was about 14-years-old. However, before I discuss it, I must explain the background of the story. When my family had moved to New Hyde Park, my English was extremely poor, because my family only spoke to me in Punjabi at home. My teachers consistently said that my parents should speak English with me at home to ensure I spoke and wrote well. In fact, my English was so bad, the principal of my elementary school once called me retarded, because I “did not understand the difference between under and over,” according to my mother. Eventually, my parents and siblings started only speaking to me in English to help me, but over time this really did hurt me since I stopped speaking any Punjabi. I could still understand the language, but I couldn’t speak it properly. Essentially, I couldn’t form proper sentences. So, when I was 14, and in the temple, an elderly lady had started speaking to me in Punjabi. I could understand what she was saying, but I could not respond coherently since I didn’t know what to say in Punjabi. I had to get my brother to help her, and she just had a somewhat disappointed face that was simultaneously annoyed. This was when I understood that I couldn’t speak Punjabi. This was the only other time that I did not feel like I was a true descendent of Punjab. I realized I was exposed to the culture, but I was not a part of the culture.

In my opinion, the two biggest indicators of any culture are language and religion, but I could no longer apply to these categories under Punjab. I’ve been so disconnected to my culture, that in the last few years I have been trying to reconnect. I have been trying to learn Punjabi and by trying to speak it more often. When it comes to religion, I’ve realized that faith is within and does not come from an external show, like the turban. However, I have been thinking about growing my hair out again and wearing a turban. The one thing I’ve noticed is that the more American I’ve become, the less Punjabi I’ve felt. Now, I just have to find a balance between the two.

Chinese Red Vermillion in Montana

Posted on by
Reply

Red Vermillion

As seen above, the artifacts are brown paper packets containing vermillion. These packets have Chinese characters on the top, possibly describing the contents or the point of origin. These were obtained by Blackfoot Nation, which was located in present-day Montana, through traders, according to the provided description of the artifacts. These packets are dated ca. 1880.

The Blackfoot Nation, in particular, used the vermillion in tribal rituals and ceremonies as a primary component of face paint. This tell us that all types of materials, either foreign or native, were used in rituals. The amount of trading that was required for these packets so that the vermillion was very important for the ceremonies, since other substances like clay possibly could have been used.

Ultimately, this broadens the narrative of the Native Americans, because it shows that they had a much larger global outreach than people usually believe. This is the case, because it is usually thought that the Native Americans exclusively communicated and traded with Europeans. This could have huge implicative for understanding how these people developed and adapted due to communication with Asian countries. Also, it is thought that many native nations kept to themselves other then when they traded with Europeans and Americans. This shows that they really were much more far-reaching in their attempts to understand the outside world, than we really give them credit for.