EDITOR’S NOTE: This story was authored by Bevery Nickles. Beverly is a Madison graduate who lives in Mansfield and is available to meet with groups small and large. Contact her by email at nickles_beverly@yahoo.com.
I returned recently from Moscow after a two-year absence and found things about the same, or better in some cases, than when I left two years ago.
I received repeated emotional “don’t go” warnings stateside because a war was on and Russia dangerous. What I witnessed immediately on the ground confirmed what I expected to find. People peacefully going about their lives.
It was business as usual.
As for me, I was just a little hillbilly girl born in “Little Kentucky,” raised in Mansfield. I spent summers in the backwoods of Olive Hill, Kentucky, with granny, then graduated from Madison and Ohio State.
But Moscow, Russia, became my home and place of service for most of 30 years. I first lived there in the summer of 1990 as a language student when Moscow was still the Soviet Union capitol.
The news reports back then that showed no food or anything else on store shelves turned out to be true on the ground.
I lived in a run-down dorm at the Higher Komsomol School, the Soviet Union’s premiere training center for young communist leaders.
Later, I completed Russian-language training at the prestigious Moscow State University.
I moved to Moscow to live on Valentine’s Day 1992, just after the Soviet Union fell.
Beginning in the summer of 1993, Moscow began to Westernize and rapidly transformed before my eyes.
Upon stepping out of Paveletsky train station in the rain at my return five weeks ago, the entrance to a brand-new, state-of-the art underground shopping plaza caught my eye.
I grabbed a taxi in Moscow Center in the early evening darkness during rush hour and traveled the city’s main street Tverskaya for two hours through the city center and all the way across town to a friend’s apartment.
As usual, the streets were abuzz with people and cars moving quickly in all directions.
Cars with bright headlights fell into several jammed lanes. My taxi squeezed in. As we made our way down Moscow’s main street, I was impressed with all the bright neon signs on both sides lighting up the door-to-door stores and restaurants.
First impressions indicated no signs of economic distress, but instead business seemed rather robust.
I asked my friendly Kyrgyz taxi driver how life was going now for Russians after Western sanctions. He confirmed that life was normal with most everything available for purchase, just increasingly expensive due to inflation. His personal challenge was that gas prices had doubled.
For me, that translated into taxi fares that had skyrocketed through the roof.
Most residents cited inflation as their main concern.
Mostly, people on the streets appeared satisfied and well-dressed. Life, though fast-paced, remained peaceful. People I connected with in stores, clinics, on the street and elsewhere were friendly and helpful. They even seemed happy to meet an American.
I caught COVID and a nasty respiratory virus sweeping the city that put me in bed for a week.
Doctors, medical and other staff at a nearby clinic soon got me back on my feet. They even discovered a broken bone in my foot from an injury months earlier. It made itself painfully known after a day of normal city walking.
Immediately after Western sanctions hit at the start of the Ukraine conflict, many products made by foreign companies disappeared in Moscow.
However, Russia stepped up to make their its replacements, boosting employment and the economy, or import from other countries. Russian GDP is set to increase by 2.8% in the coming year.
Several major foreign companies immediately closed operations in Russia with the onset of the Ukrainian conflict and Western sanctions. Some foreign companies sold out entirely to Russian businessmen.
McDonalds rebranded and became “Tasty Point.” Starbucks became “Star Coffee.” Krispy Kreme became “Crunchy Dream.”
Once the Ukrainian conflict led to army conscription, thousands fled the country and took up residence elsewhere. This especially depleted the number of military-age men and families. When visiting places familiar to me, I immediately felt their absence.
A major inconvenience for Americans is access to money. It’s impossible in Russia now to use American bank cards or transfer money in from here.
The situation requires carrying the amount you expect to need during your stay. Americans still live there, but the numbers greatly are reduced.
My special concern, though, in Moscow or anywhere is the church. Gathering hard information on the church’s condition can be challenging; and changes following the outbreak of conflict vary from church to church.
But churches, too, faced reduced numbers of young men. However, church ministry continues and needs are served.
For the first time, I visited Sochi, the country’s largest resort area set on the Black Sea in Southern Russia. I became acquainted with leaders and members of the lead congregation in a network of 15 churches serving both Sochi and nearby Abkhazia.
In the Southern Caucasus, the Abkhaz Republic stands at the intersection of Eastern Europe and Western Asia.
These churches for the past year have enthusiastically distributed a small book I wrote about Jesus. The book is a collection of short pieces all about Jesus himself or something that he taught.
The book has been well-received in this region with plans to expand the distribution.
Especially during winter holidays, Russian Christian groups here and in other parts of the country have distributed the book through churches, humanitarian aid, hospitals and other locations.
In addition to Russians, the book has made it into the hands of Ukrainians, Turks, Israelis, British, Koreans, Indians, Mingrelians and other nationalities.