“Droogha”: Part II of Matt’s account of the first days in Russia.**

Sept. 16

(Events of Sept. 4, 2006)

**Note: This “Part II” account of our first days in Moscow will be the last “novella” post I’ll add—from this point on I’m going to try to keep the posts shorter and more focused. (Makinzie’s comment: “people don’t want to read all that”).

When the phone rang at about 9 am on Monday morning (Sept. 4), I could not for the life of me remember where I was or what I was doing there. For a moment I felt as though I was in another world, until I remembered . . . yes, I was indeed in another world. The voice on the phone--Dr. Broersma the provost of RACU--said that someone was coming to help us navigate the subway to the university for this first time, since the route was a little tricky. The “guide” would be by in one hour. (Or in 30 minutes, depending on the busy-ness of the Metro). Struggling to remember the most basic functions of using motor skills and speaking primitive languages to one another, Makinzie and I scrambled to shower and prepare for our first real day in Moscow.

Andrey Timofyaev actually arrived in about 25 minutes, calling from our “Domaphone” (“Dom” means “house” in Russian) downstairs to let us know that he was ready whenever we were. We managed to gather all of our things and head out the door, but here we encountered our first problem. Our door apparently had, at first glance, about thirty-five locks. Later we narrowed this down to just three, but on that first day we spent close to ten minutes trying to figure out how to lock our door. We finally got one of the three locked, which was good enough for the time being, and then we moved on to . . . another lock. Yes, our apartment opens into a very narrow “lobby” with four other apartments, and this lobby also had a lock to be navigated. Done, we made it downstairs to the ever patient Andrey and headed off to the first stage of our journey—the Metro (subway) station.

Andrey was very kind to speak in English with us during the ten-minute walk to the Kon’Kovo metro station. In the Metro, it was another matter. First of all, getting down into the actual station is an adventure that reminds me of the trip down into the Sonora Caverns in Texas. If Andrey hadn’t been with us, we probably would still be meandering the underground chambers of the station. There are eight exits/entrances at each station, and in the tunnels connecting each exit to the main platform there are hundreds of little shops selling jewelry, magazines, school supplies, and—I took special notice—really cheap video games and DVD’s (more on this later). It’s a fun little place once all the unfamiliarity has gone away.

Second of all, we quickly learned that there are very clear if unstated rules about how one behaves on the Metro. If you would like to talk to Andrey Timofyaev about the route to the Metro, do you? No—keep silent and keep your head down. If you are bored during the one-hour trip from station to station, are you allowed to look around at the other people riding to work? No—again, head down and eyes stationary. Can you smile? No. Can you wear bright clothes? No. More importantly, can you read something to pass the time? Well, maybe—but only if you can read standing up, and don’t mind other people reading along with you.

After the one-hour subway ride, we found ourselves scurrying out into daylight again near a familiar sight—a Makdonald’s (be sure to pronounce the “o” long)—which proved to be a helpful route marker. Passing up the comforts of beef-fried potatoes for the time being, we made it to the bus stop, hopped a “marshutka” shuttle bus, and at last arrived at the “temporary” RACU campus. One and half hours later.

Because RACU is moving buildings while a new campus is being built, the state of the school when we arrived on Monday morning was somewhat chaotic. This chaos, while no doubt lamentable for the RACU staff, was actually a boon for two Americans with no idea about what was going on. As it turned out, many people at RACU were in the same state of mind for a few days. The picture posted along with this text documents the situation quite well. Before moving on, I should describe the present “campus” of RACU. The school has taken over a mid-size “cultural center”, which also houses an Evangelical Church, some kind of video library (maybe connected with the church?), and a small bistro that so far has intimated me. The complex is not without beauty, and the walls and floors are some kind of white marble, with a large stained glass mural as you enter the lobby. A large room in the center of the complex serves as the church sanctuary (and also apparently the RACU honors program, although I’ve never seen the latter), and long hallways flanking the sides of this central room offer several classrooms and also office space for the RACU staff. The building has two floors and also an enormous basement and attic. I’ve only peeped into the attic, but it was creepy enough (a dark space in an old, ceremonial building) to make me want to come back and explore. The “prepodovatyilskaya” is on the second floor in the far northwest corner of the building, and two floors below (in the basement) is a small computer lab with about 15 computers. (In between is a room whose function I haven’t yet been able to divine—at one time the copier machine was located in it, but now I think a Russian-Christian rock band practices there !?).

To continue with the narrative, I’ll say that I had the pleasure of being able to teach Sociolinguistics at 15:30 (we use “military” time in Moscow) on my first day in Russia. Those of you who had encounters with me before I left California remember that I was slightly nervous about teaching this subject since I had never taught it before, and eventually I had to concede that the first day would be less informative than I would have hoped for (mostly since I first had to learn what sociolinguistics actually was). After a laughable attempt to find lunch at a bistro near the school, Makinzie and I sat down in the “prepodovatyilskaya”—roughly, a teacher’s lounge—and tried to focus on getting ready for the week’s teaching. In addition to the Sociolinguistics class on Monday (at about 4 pm), I had British Literature on Tuesday at 10 am and then an advanced Shakespeare class at 10 am on Monday. Three brand new classes in another country, and I was feeling a little nervous about the preparation.

Imagine my surprise, then, when an elderly Russian woman came up beside me and emphatically tried solicit my attention (in Russian):

WOMAN: (Something unintelligible in Russian, pointing toward my papers)
ME: Excuse me? (in Russian)
WOMAN: (Something else unintelligible in Russian, more emphatically this time)
ME: I’m sorry, I don’t understand (in Russian)
WOMAN: Your lesson is now (in Russian, pointing to the clock)
ME: No, it’s only 14:10. (in broken Russian, very confused)
WOMAN: No, the clock has died (in Russian, showing me her watch, which indicates the *correct* time of 15:40)
ME: Aah! (in Russian, although it sounds the same in English)

(At this point the woman signaled me to follow her, and I obediently trailed her down the hallway, around the corner, and through a door where seventeen Russian students were trying to suppress smiles as their teacher excused himself sheepishly for coming in ten minutes late.)

So, my teaching career in Russia began with slight humiliation and embarrassment—maybe the best way to begin, overall, since it put me closer to the students.

The first class went pretty well, aside from the fact that I had to navigate between what to call the two Ksenia’s, two Natalya’s, two Anastasia’s, two Evgenia’s, and two Olga’s (17 students, 12 with the same combinations of names). I could tell immediately that the students were very bright and very eager to learn. Most of them had completed several courses in linguistics and thus were excited about adding a “social” element to what they had already studied; moreover, all of the students readily, enthusiastically, and unashamedly entered a discussion about why sociolinguistics was important in a Christian university. I was both surprised and pleased at their preparedness.

In our letter announcing our trip, I had suggested that one of our primary reasons for going to RACU was to involve ourselves in the lives of students who would eventually become leaders in Russia and in their communities. How exciting to be in my first class, tired after a long journey, and be able to reflect that our vision to encourage the faith of Russian students was already beginning to be realized. Class ended comfortably, and I was excited at the end of the evening to be part of these students’ lives.

That first night, as Makinzie and I followed Oksana, our “student escort”, homebound through the maze of bus terminals and subway tunnels, I witnessed another sign that we were indeed supposed to be here in Moscow. Walking slightly behind Makinzie and Oksana, I watched as the Russian student tenderly took Makinzie’s arm and put it through her own, the two of them continuing silently together, arm in arm, along the subway platform.

The Russian word for friend is “droogha” (друга), and it is reserved for close, personal friendships. I don’t know if we have been called “druzhya” yet by any of the Russians we know, but after the first day I knew that the possibility for being allowed into these students’ lives was real.

--Matt