How much do we really know about our Russian neighbors?

Not all ‘Russians’ are Russian

When borders change it is hard to keep track of new countries. The dissolution of the Soviet Union, a place so vast it seemed to take up a quarter of the world map, presented us all with the major challenge of working out just exactly where each “new” country was. There were also over 200 distinct ethnic groups in the Soviet Union, so in present-day Russia not everybody is an ethnic Slav. National identity is today a sensitive issue for people from ex-Soviet Bloc states, even more so when they're abroad.

“It makes no difference to the majority of Turks where we actually come from,” explained Alena Hramyka-Uslu, who's married to a Turk and lives in Antalya. “We could be from Belarus, Ukraine or Moldova but here we're all referred to as ‘Russians' because they know we can speak Russian,” Alena complained because she feels very strongly about this issue. She went on: “There are now 15 independent states instead of the USSR. I'm from Belarus, a small country bordering Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Latvia and Lithuania. There are 10 million people in Belarus, and we have Belarusian, not Russian, passports. Our capital is Minsk, not Moscow, and even though the majority of us can speak Russian, we have our own language: Belarusian. Yes, it's a Slavonic language, like Russian and Ukrainian, but it has evolved differently. Belarus has always been different to Russia: it's basically an agricultural country, not an empire builder, and this also means that, as a people, we're peaceful and tolerant. And, unlike Russia, Belarus isn't a multinational, multiethnic country. The vast majority of people in Belarus are Belarusians.”

So how do people in Turkey react when Elena Uluçay, who lives in Antalya with her Turkish husband and two children, tells them she's part Tatar? “They get a bit confused because they expect Tatars to resemble people from Central Asia, and I look like a European with my blonde hair and blue eyes. They also expect us to share a similar culture, but we don't really as, for example, there was no religion in the days of the Soviet Union,” she noted. Elena came to Turkey 13 years ago, and it is since then that she has started to find out about Tatar history and the Tatar language. “My mother didn't tell me I was part Tatar until I was an adult,” commented Elena, adding, “When I was at school, in the days of the Soviet Union, we were taught to respect people from the diverse ethnic groups across the country. I was brought up in Yekaterinburg in the Urals, Russia's third largest city, as a Russian, speaking Russian. I have Ural Tatar blood, but I don't feel Tatar.”

Ethnic identity and language have become very important issues in Tatarstan, one of the most economically developed regions of Russia, with a population of some 4 million people, since it became a republic in 1990. “I studied to be a sports teacher there when Russian was the official language,” she explained, adding: “I went back in the late 1990s, and I had trouble finding the right bus because everything was written in Tatar, not Russian. They use both Russian and Tatar now. The introduction of compulsory Tatar language classes in schools hasn't been a very popular decision, however, as it isn't a prestige language. Many Tatars don't see the point of learning it, and not everyone there is Tatar anyway. Some people are very keen to assert themselves as Tatars though, for example, shopkeepers: if you speak to them in Russian, they reply in Tatar. As I've learned Turkish, it's easier for me to understand Tatar now. They are both Turkic languages, although Tatar is generally written using the Cyrillic alphabet.”

The image is changing, slowly

After decades of restrictions on their movements abroad, around 2.5 million tourists from the ex-Soviet Union come to Antalya every year. Over the years, some 11,000 women have fallen in love, gotten married and settled here to raise their families. Unfortunately, they find themselves plagued by the Turkish stereotype caused by the tragedy of human trafficking that they're all “loose” women.

The big question, of course, is why do so many “Russian” women marry Turkish men? “In many ways, the reasons are the same as for other foreigners,” Alena commented. “There's a mutual attraction of opposites, the mystique of another culture, the chance to live somewhere with a better climate. Turkish men offer what men back home don't, and from an economic point of view, Turkish men expect to be the breadwinner and support a family.” Elena agreed, but then she highlighted the main problem faced by many women from the ex-Soviet Union, and in Russia in particular: “There aren't enough men to go round back home. Over 20 million were killed during World War II, and then some millions more died under Stalin. This means that there aren't enough men in Russia. Even if you find a husband, you have to work hard to keep him. There will always be younger, stunningly beautiful women vying for his attention. Plus, even if you do manage to keep him, he'll probably be an alcoholic anyway; alcoholism is a real problem in Russia.”

The downside of their story is that after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, many desperate women from ex-Soviet Bloc countries originally came to Turkey believing they had been hired as dancers or waitresses. The Russian economy was in a worse state than at the end of World War II; there was rationing, and it was hard to find basics such as flour and oil, Elena pointed out. As the majority of those women were tricked into prostitution in places such as İstanbul and the Black Sea region, Turks started to equate all women from ex-Soviet Bloc countries with prostitution.

“When I was pregnant, six years ago, we moved into a new apartment in Antalya,” Elena explained, adding, “I had a hard time in the neighborhood at first because I didn't realize there were some women working as prostitutes in the building next door. I'm not sure exactly what nationality they were, but they were definitely from somewhere in the ex-USSR. Our front doors were very close, and the women had their children living with them, so the local shopkeepers assumed I was one of them and were extremely unwelcoming towards me. After the women eventually moved elsewhere, the shopkeepers realized I wasn't a prostitute and started being nicer to me.”

“The problem of human trafficking hasn't gone away, however,” explained Ioulia Özgelen from St. Petersburg, who also lives in Antalya with her Turkish husband and two children. “As the Russian economy has picked up, these days criminal gangs are managing to trick Moldovans, Ukrainians and Belarusians [many of whom are mothers wanting to make a better life for their children] into prostitution here. Turkey is doing its part to help them through the 24-hour emergency helpline for trafficking victims, the ‘157' hotline, and media and poster campaigns.”

In Antalya, your hotel clerk could well be a lawyer

Finding work abroad is a bit of a challenge: it generally depends on your qualifications, determination and being in the right place at the right time. So how important is work to women from ex-Soviet Bloc countries who have settled in Antalya, and how successful are they at finding it?

“It's rare to find someone from the Russian-speaking community using their qualifications. You come across food safety specialists working as booking clerks for tourism agencies, lawyers working as tour guides and qualified doctors are housewives,” Ioulia lamented. “Work is a real concern for women from the Russian-speaking community because being financially independent is important to us. I think we were brought up that way -- at least my generation. It isn't just about money; it's also about being successful, developing yourself in your job, having a career and prospects, being able to help your family and even about being an example for your children.”

Ioulia considers herself one of the lucky ones as, after working in different fields (teaching, writing articles for a newspaper and working in tourism), she's now earning her living as a translator and interpreter. “I studied Slavonic philology at St. Petersburg University. My main language was Bulgarian, but I also had classes on other Slavonic languages as well as English and Turkish,” she explained, continuing, “I'm one of Antalya's 10 simultaneous interpreters, working with Russian, Turkish and English. That's the best paid job in the field of translation/interpretation, but you can't do it 25 days a month. Even the busiest interpreters only spend eight to 10 days a month in the booth. I've interpreted at a lot of events in Antalya, but the most exciting one was, of course, the Eurasia Film Festival, where I worked with Paul Verhoeven, Mickey Rourke, Michael York, Kevin Spacey, Marisa Tomei, Matthew Modine and Jacqueline Bisset, amongst others. That was a great opportunity for me as back in Russia I would have faced too much competition from other professional simultaneous interpreters. I've heard that to get a good interpreting job in Russia these days, you have to wear the right designer clothes. In Antalya, nobody is interested in what you're wearing or how much it cost. As there isn't that kind of work all year round, I also work for Interofis Translation Centre in Antalya and with some translation agencies in Russia. It's a job you can do anywhere: you just need a computer and the Internet.”

And how are Alena and Elena faring? Alena is a qualified social worker in Belarus, but can't work in her field in Turkey. “For the moment, I'm happy to stay at home and enjoy married life,” she commented. When she first arrived in Turkey 13 years ago, Elena came to work as a sport animator in tourism and after four years she became a stage manager in hotels, and so learned Turkish, and then worked on US cruise ships where she learned English. After five years as a stay-at-home mom, she's returning to teaching, her passion. “I don't want to work in tourism or to teach sports anymore though; I want to do something different. I've just finished a course to teach creative drama to children. I'm using creative drama to teach Russian kids English, and I'd also like to teach creative drama to Russian kids in Russian. I love children, and so it's a job I do from my heart,” she explained.