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Stories: The Welcome
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(This is the true account of my arrival to Russian and first tracting experience. The date was November 14-15, 1996)
I stand in the back of a very long line, in an airport where I cant understand a word of what is being spoken around me. This definitely isnt the Russian that I had been taught in the MTC. Since I am thinking deeply, I dont mind the fact that I cant understand what is being said. Even though the past two months built up to this moment, I still felt like I was going to wake up any minute and be in my bed back in the MTC. Nothing was like I had imagined it, or had been told. I snap out of my trance and look at the head of the line. There I notice that my name is on a card that a young lady holds over her head while waving it for attention. It reads Herrick, Parks + 2. The young lady is in a blue uniform, wears lots of make-up and has a skirt that definitely wouldnt have been gone past her finger tips, had she lowered her arms to her sides. It probably wouldnt have even cleared her wrists. I remember being told that someone from the Mission would be there to greet us, and so the first thought that comes to my mind is
She is from the mission office? The four of us, Elders Parks, Clay Simmons, Rich Sefcik and I, look around. The lady motions us to the front of the line and we cut forward like we are told. Our conversations at this point are short and one-sided. Passport. Luggage on rack. Follow me, yes? Its weird to hear Russians try to speak English. We scoot through customs as if we are diplomats. Not one opened bag, not even a slow down. As we clear that area I see a first for my stay in Russia - a smiling face. It happens to be the driver for the mission. He hands me a note and it reads. Dear Elders, hope the flight was good. Sorry we arent there. Please join us at the mission home as soon as possible. Signed Elder so and so. Off we go.
* * *
This has to be a dream, I think as we are sent off with our new companions. Ive been up now for over 24 hours, if you dont count the sporadic sleep on the 17-hour airplane ride. The more I think about it, the more exhausted I feel. My clothes are heavy on me, my raincoat especially. It feels as though someone had sewn in a lead lining when I wasnt looking. On the way to my new apartment, as we swerve around corners, I am not even awake enough to think about how crazy the Russians drive. Then its lugging my intensely heavy suitcase up six flights of stairs. Elder Barnes, my new companion, says that I can rest for a while and my vision fades to black.
* * *
Breakfast consists of Kasha. Which, Elder Barnes tells me, is something like whole buckwheat. He boils it, drains the water and then fries it in a pan until it is browned a little. He then grates cheese over it and dishes it up. He informs me that catsup goes best with it. I struggle to eat a third of the bowl and then I cant force anymore down. There are certain foods that are okay to eat as long as you are ferociously hungry. As soon as your stomach gets a little bit full and you are no longer ravenous, the acceptance of that particular food ends. What once was adequate is now not in the slightest bit suitable for consumption. Kasha is the first of these foods Ive met here in Russia.
* * *
Tracting: A very intimidating word for a greenie. We are on the top floor of an apartment building and we will work our way down. My heart is racing by now; I will soon make a door approach. Elder Barnes starts out to show me how it is done. My companion knocks on all the doors on the top floor and makes his approach. I can barely follow what is being said.
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
Book of Mormon
Nephi
do you want one
no
yes
. The responses vary, but no one contact is longer than five minutes. We go to the next floor and my companion again does some approaches. As we get to the last door on that floor, Elder Barnes lets me know that it is my turn. My heart-rate skyrockets. I take a pamphlet out of my Book of Mormon and get ready to make my approach. I hear loud music playing as I ring the buzzer. I also hear a gravelly voice say, Ill get the door in English and then the music turns off. I turn to my companion and my smile is huge. Im excited for my first chance.
The door opens and a young man is standing there in a T-shirt and shorts. He has a short haircut and hes clean-shaven. His mouth is open and he is just staring at us. Since its in English I am excited to speak, and so I start right into my approach. We are missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ
. It flows out beautifully. As I am talking another young man comes up the door. He is a little more heavyset than the first, with beady eyes. He is dressed and groomed in the same way as the first. They introduce themselves as construction workers that are here, in Russia, working for a big California firm. During our conversation on the doorstep the heavier-set young man asks repeatedly if we had ever been robbed. We tell them no, that we are poor missionaries and have no money.
We talk a little bit about the Book of Mormon etc. on the doorstep and my companion asks if we can come in. We take our shoes off, as is custom in Russia when entering someones house, and leave them by the door. We are led into a side room and I take a moment to look around. The apartment is pretty clean and as I look into the other room, which is dim, I think I see a picture of Christ on the wall. We sit on beds facing each other to continue our discussion. As the dialogue starts again I notice that the skinnier of the two young men has what looks to be garments on underneath his shorts. I am distracted by a question though and so I turn my attention back to the discussion. By this time we are in a very deep discussion about the Book of Mormon.
I am thinking that this is a golden contact. Out of the blue, the beady-eyed one blurts out that he finds it incredible that we had never been robbed. Just what are you getting at? replies my companion. This! the beady-eyed one says and pulls a gun from beneath the pillow he was sitting next to. My thoughts go from that is the weirdest question in the world to why would you ask a question like that to OH MY GOODNESS when I see the gun. My companion very confidently gets up and says that we were leaving. I follow his lead and we head for the door to the room. He gets through, but the beady guy yanks me back in and closes the door. My companion, from the other side, pushes open the door and I slip through into the hallway. This cant be happening I think. My dream is now a nightmare.
Elder Barnes and the guy with the gun disappear into the room that we had just left. I pick up our shoes and try to open the front door. I am not able to, so in an excited voice I command the other young man to open it for me. It seems like he is trying not to laugh. My command must have come out like a squeak. He opens the door and I turn just in time to see my companion come out of the first room holding the gun in his hands, and waving it around. My look of surprise must have been as great as what I saw on the young mans face, who had opened the door. Elder Barnes and I race out of the apartment and down one floor. We hear them start to follow and go down another flight of stairs. My companion slips right into his shoes and heads back up the stairs muttering Teach them to rob us, those fetchers, Ill rob them. I finish putting on my shoes as fast as I can and follow him up. By the time I am up one flight of stairs he is banging on their door yelling, You fetchers, open up. I manage to get to the floor, where he is, as they pile into the hallway and everyone starts laughing at me.
It seems that I am at the center of a practical joke. What a thing to do to a greenie. These two Elders are part of my district and have properly welcomed me. I had seen garments, and a picture of Christ on the wall, but had not thought it through. It seems that we had arrived early, and they were not totally prepared. As we talk about what happened and later on the ride home, one thought keeps turning up. I realize that I am not dreaming. This is my new reality. |
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"You are a great army of returned missionaries. Go forward with new zeal and determination, and through your example shine the light of the gospel in this troubled world. This is the Lords work in which we are engaged. God lives. Jesus is the Christ. We belong to His Church. This is my witness to you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
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