A journey of faith

Wearing a sweater and a knit hat, sweat beading on his forehead, Vladimir Mikitin shoveled wet cement from a mixer into a fence-post hole in his yard on a gray, chilly afternoon last week. Behind him stood his newly constructed home, one among dozens in a subdivision off Schrock Road near Wasilla.

Mikitin leaned against his shovel,

pushed his hat back on his head and gestured toward the other new homes surrounding him.

"Ukrainian. Russian. Ukrainian,"

Mikitin said. "Most Ukrainian."

Mikitin and his family are among hundreds of Ukrainian- and Russian-Americans who have moved to the Mat-Su Valley in the past few years. Following a long tradition of immigration to the United States, these natives of the now-fallen Soviet Union come in search of better jobs, a safe place to raise a family and freedom to practice their religion.

With the translating assistance of 12-year-old Vitaliy Zhuchcov, Mikitin described how he and his family moved to the Wasilla area four months ago from Ohio. While some of his neighbors have arrived directly from the former Soviet Union, most have come from Russian and Ukrainian communities in California, Washington and Oregon. Many had been granted U.S. citizenship under refugee status because of the persecution of Evangelical Christians in their home country.

Here, on land claimed by Russians in the 1700s and 1800s, the Ukrainian-born Mikitin has found a place where the people have been welcoming and where he lives among what he described as his "Pentecostal brothers."

As Mikitin worked and talked, neighbor Gregoriy Lozko joined him beside the fence-post hole, holding a level to the post as Mikitin resumed shoveling in the cement. When asked if they are happy with their new home, they were united in their

response.

"Alaska is good," Lozko said.

"Alaska is good," Mikitin agreed with a grin.

A new experience for the Valley

While some in the growing Russian- and Ukrainian-American community were eager to talk about their love of Alaska and to describe what has brought them here, others met such questions with a guarded defensiveness. They wanted to know why it is worthy of a newspaper article -- what makes them different? Why not write a story about Chinese-Americans or Vietnamese-Americans, one man asked as his teen-age son translated for him.

But for the Mat-Su Valley, this immigration of non-English speakers by the hundreds is a change for a community already going through growing pains. Unlike large cities in other states, the Mat-Su Borough has never had a China Town or Little Italy. And while those who live in the area represent dozens of nationalities, there has never been a defined community of this size.

According to the U.S. Census, in 1990 less than 2 percent of borough residents were foreign born. Ten years later, that number had increased slightly to 2.6 percent. The same kind of small increase was seen among people who don't speak English at home -- from 4.4 percent in 1990 to 5.1 percent in 2000. But this remains a small portion of the overall more than 60,000 people who live in the Valley, and until now the limited diversity had been sparsely spread among dozens of nationalities and languages.

According to the Mat-Su Borough School District, more than 65 languages are used by students who attend public schools here.

"But the most significant increase has been in the Russian-speaking families," said John Weetman with the district's Federal Programs.

Those both inside and outside of the community estimate that more than 1,000 Russian- and Ukrainian-Americans have moved to the Mat-Su Valley in the past 10 years, and there are rumors that another 100 to 300 families could be arriving before winter is out.

For the first time in their lives, many local children are hearing a language other than English being spoken in the hallways of their schools on a regular basis. Tanaina Elementary recently welcomed its 100th Russian-speaking student, and the school currently has more than 40 students who are classified as non-English speaking. Nearby Iditarod Elementary, Teeland Middle and Wasilla High schools are also seeing an influx of Russian-speaking

students, forcing teachers and

administrators to modify their efforts so as to help those who speak little or no English.

"This is a new experience for us," said Kim Floyd, information specialist with the Mat-Su school district.

The road from Russia to Wasilla

Russia and Alaska has had a shared history for nearly 300 years. In the early 1700s, Russians were among the first non-Natives to venture to the Last Frontier, exploring the coastline and claiming the new territory for the Russian Empire in 1725. Even after the United States purchased Alaska from the Russians in 1867 for $7.2 million, some Russians remained here and, later, Orthodox "Old Believers" emigrated from the Soviet Union to their own villages in Alaska.

While they may speak the same language, these more recently arrived Russians and Ukrainians are quick to point out that they are not "Old Believers," whose families came in the 1960s from China where they had sought refuge from religious persecution. These modern-day immigrants do not wear the traditional garb, such as the headscarves worn by Russian Orthodox women, and their religious beliefs are markedly different.

This most recent, and largest, wave of immigrants from Russia and the Ukraine is mainly made up of Evangelical Christians such as Pentecostals and Baptists.

While the Mat-Su Valley has a growing Slavic-American community, it is small compared to the immigration into other areas of the country since the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991. Seattle is reporting nearly 10,000 Ukrainian refugees in the area, with the majority Pentecostals. Sacramento, Calif., is home to around 50,000 Ukrainian-Americans, and California as a whole has seen the population increase from 56,000 to more than 83,000 during the past decade.

According to an Associated Press article last year, Ukrainians and Russians have been leaving their home countries during the past decade for reasons that vary from economic and political pressure to religious persecution.

"People in Ukraine are unbelievably poor," a University of California Los Angeles political science professor said in the article. "They can't find employment, people go without food, they lost weight. There really is a very low standard of living. Obviously, if you're in a situation like that, there's a strong impulse to go somewhere where there are jobs."

The doorway into America for many of these Russians and Ukrainians has been the so-called

Simon/Lautenberg Amendment, in which the U.S. Congress granted refugee status to Jews and Evangelical Christians from the former Soviet Union who could prove they had a well-founded fear of persecution. Even following the collapse of the Soviet Union, according to Senate documents, Evangelical Christians in Russia and the Ukraine were forced to practice their faith underground until recently.

Many of those who have settled along the West Coast and are now moving to the Mat-Su Valley are Pentecostals and Baptists who were awarded such refugee status during the 1990s.

This door, however, is slowly closing, according to Sergiy Korelov, the Ukrainian-born pastor of Wasilla's Word of Life International Ministries, an Evangelical Christian church. He moved here a year and a half ago when he won a green card by lottery.

"For me, it's God's will to come here," he said.

Korelov said fewer and fewer

Russians and Ukrainians are being permitted to enter based on refugee status, and he expects that most families who move to the Mat-Su Valley in the next years will be coming from other places in the United States rather than directly from the former Soviet Union.

So what is attracting these Slavic-Americans to the Valley from places like Sacramento and Seattle? The same qualities that draw others here -- an opportunity to purchase land and build a home, a good economy and the lure of open places.

Olga Clark, a Russian-American who moved to this country 10 years ago when she married an Alaskan, is working with these newly arrived families in her role as a tutor for the Mat-Su school district. She said she believes many of these Russian- and Ukrainian-Americans are searching for a more rural lifestyle when they come to Alaska.

"Many are from village areas in Russia, and they didn't take to cities very well," she said. In their old country, she said, many had cows, chickens and other farm animals, grew their own vegetables and lived in their own homes. In the crowded cities, they did not find the kind of open countryside they were used to and, she said, they worried about their children becoming involved with urban gangs.

"Here there is fresh air, no pollution and lots of land to run around," Clark said.

There is also a less tangible attraction, one that has appealed to would-be Alaskans for generations -- a sense of independence.

"I hope it's freedom and more space," Korelov said of what draws Ukrainians and Russians here. He said when the first families began coming to the Wasilla area about seven years ago, they told their friends and family that this was a good place to raise children and build a home. He describes Alaska as the "great land of equal opportunity," and the community has largely embraced their Evangelical Christian beliefs. From California to Ohio to Washington and all the way back to the former Soviet Union, word spread.

"It's a small world," Korelov said.

A community adjusts

For centuries it has been the American way -- welcoming people of different nationalities and different languages as they work toward realizing their dreams. But at times it has also been the American way to be wary of outsiders, to fear for jobs, community welfare and resources when new people from different cultures arrive.

The Valley appears to be heading down this same road.

The Russian- and Ukrainian-Americans who have recently moved here say Mat-Su residents have treated them warmly.

"The good attitude between people touched our hearts when we first came," Korelov said. He admitted that people may not feel as

gracious inside, but he said he

appreciates people's ability to be outwardly friendly.

"It's better than to show your anger," he said.

Korelov and others seem to be eager to prove they will be contributing members of the growing Valley -- they will work hard, learn the language and become part of the community.

"We will build good economy," Korelov said.

But as the pressure is put on local schools to provide education for the hundreds of Russian-speaking

students who are showing up at their doors, some Valley residents are voicing concerns about the effects of the immigrant community. Some fear their own children are not getting the attention they need as teachers struggle to teach English as a second language. Others feel the teachers are being put to extremes as they try to manage classes with as many as a quarter of the students speaking Russian.

School board member Linda Menard lives just down Schrock Road from the developing Russian- and Ukrainian-American neighborhood, and she and her husband have hired some of the teen-agers to work on their land during the summer.

"I embrace them into the community," Menard said.

At the same time, she said it is becoming a challenge for the schools.

"It's not an issue of not wanting to welcome them," Menard said, "but somehow we have to empower our teachers."

The district's Federal Programs is working to meet this challenge by employing Russian translators, bilingual tutors and bringing language experts to the district to help train regular classroom teachers to better help their Russian-speaking students learn English.

District officials admit, however, that they are finding it difficult to keep up with the flow. In the past, as students became more fluent in English they were moved out of the bilingual program before others had come in.

"Now they are coming in faster than they are exiting," Weetman said.

At the same time, he said he

believes the district's pro-active

approach can ease the transition, and many of the children are quickly picking up the language.

But Weetman, like others, recognizes that the school district isn't alone in having to adapt to make room for everyone.

"It's not just a school district issue; it's a community issue," Weetman said. "It's a change, and we all know how people react to change."

As information specialist for the district, Floyd said she has been approached by several members of the community who say they are worried about the affects of the growing immigrant community. When she was recently appointed to the Valley Healthy Communities Board, Floyd made tolerance her primary goal.

"On a community level, I am definitely concerned," Floyd said. "They have the same rights to good jobs, a good education, as any other person. If they are willing to become contributing members of our community, I think we should welcome them with open arms."

Floyd said she fears the same kind of prejudice against these immigrants as there was in her home state of California against Mexican-Americans. Instead of seeing the changing face of the community as a problem, she said she would like to see people view it as a chance to become deeper and richer as a community.

"In order to be healthy and grow prosperous, there needs to be a place for everyone at the table ..." she said. "This is how we built America and this is what we stand for -- we welcome others and give them a chance to live out the American dream."

The changing face of the Valley

So who are these new people at the table? Ask outside observers and the Russian- and Ukrainian-Americans themselves to describe the people in this new community and the answers come back the same again and again -- hardworking, family oriented, enthusiastic about their new home country and fervent in their spiritual beliefs.

Many of the families have as many as seven to 10 children, aging in range from newborns to teen-agers. Most have friends and relatives in the former Soviet Union, including grandparents, aunts and uncles.

While some of the children attend public schools in Mat-Su, others are home-schooled. Both the Ukrainians and Russians speak Russian. Their fluency in English varies greatly. Many of the children speak clear English while some of the adults have to rely on them to translate.

"My son translates for me," one man said. "I get better."

Clark said that in addition to the language barrier, there has been some cultural transitioning. With the help of her husband, who is a lawyer, she said she has been able to answer questions about the medical system, for example, and assist the families in filling out paperwork. Clark said she remembers how hard it was to learn her way around a new country, and she said she is glad to be able to help them adjust.

"They are very pleasant, very hard working," Clark said.

Many of the adults work several jobs to support their families. Korelov described how, since moving here less than two years ago, he has worked as a bus driver, a carpenter and a salesperson at a car dealership, in addition to his volunteer work as a minister. Now he is going to school at Mat-Su College and is hoping to someday own his own business even as he pursues what he describes as his "calling" in Christianity.

Korelov's wife was a doctor back in the Ukraine, and he said she is going through the necessary steps to earn her medical license here in America. Others in the community are nurses, custodians, carpenters, construction trades people, auto body workers and entrepreneurs. One Ukrainian family, for instance, has rented a port in a local car wash and makes extra money by hand-washing vehicles.

"They are trying to start a business and establish themselves in the area," the Wasilla car wash owner wrote to the Frontiersman. "In my business dealing with this family, I have come to trust them and realize that they are looking for a hand up and not a hand out, so I offered to help them."

When asked if it is easier to making a living here in Alaska than it was in the former Soviet Union countries, one Ukrainian man said, "Ukraine is hard, here is hard."

Despite the challenges of finding work on either side of the ocean, Korelov said they are committed to supporting their families.

"We've always worked," Korelov said.

In addition to earning a reputation as hard workers, it is clear their Evangelical Christian beliefs form an important foundation to this group.

"Do you know God?" they frequently ask those they meet. "Are you a Christian?"

When two men were asked if they were brothers, one said enthusiastically, "Yes. Brothers in Christianity. Pentecostal brothers."

Korelov said it is against the rules of his church for people to drink, smoke or to engage in sex outside of marriage.

"We believe in the life power of Jesus, who can free anyone from any kind of addiction ...," Korelov said. He also speaks of people "keeping their souls clean."

Korelov is among those Americans who believe prayer in schools should not only be allowed but embraced. Christianity, he says, was an important part of the foundation of the United States. Without prayer in schools, he said, there has been a rise in homosexuality, assault, pregnancy and drug use.

Among the more difficult cultural transitions for him, Korelov said, was the arrival of Halloween last month.

"It may seem like fun, but truly inside it's evil," he said emphatically. "All those demonic images."

More often, though, Korelov speaks of his new country with zeal and when he was asked to pose for a photograph, he eagerly jumped up on a chair to be near an American flag.

"We love this country," he said.