In 1977, after successfully graduating from the technical school with honors and with my parents’ permission, I decided to come to Tashkent from Kokand to enroll in the Polytechnic Institute in the engineering and construction department. Knowing that getting into the institute wouldn’t be easy, my parents let me go with the hope that I would return soon. In Tashkent, I found refuge in the large and beautiful family of Uncle Abram and Aunt Maria Yagudaev. Uncle Abram was my mom’s cousin. After successfully passing the exams, I was admitted to the first year of the institute. However, after I got admitted, my mom called me and said, “Now that you’ve tested your abilities, come back; we can’t let you go.” I was an energetic and determined girl, as my mom used to say – Yulia, and she didn’t want me to leave for another city, saying, “It will be difficult without you.” After much persuasion, my mom allowed me to continue my education.
In September, I accidentally met my future husband – Nikolai. We met, fell in love, and by October, his mother, Tamara, Uncle David, and Kolya decided to go to Kokand to ask for my hand in marriage. My parents were shocked because they didn’t know who they were and what kind of people they were. Kolya was ten years older than me, and they were worried, but I told them that they were coming to propose to me. My parents prepared, set the table, and organized the reception. My mom cried and said, “We didn’t plan to send our daughter to another city.” Then, my brother’s wife, Rozalia Mikhaylovna Yukhananova, who was from Tashkent herself and knew my future mother-in-law through her business dealings, entered the house. She saw the guests and said, “Oh, Aunt Tamara, what are you doing here?” The mother-in-law explained that they had come to propose to Faina for Kolya. My mom continued to cry, and Rozalia Mikhaylovna addressed her: “Aunt Yulia, and you still have doubts!? Everything will be fine.” My mom cried and said they could go to Israel. My mother-in-law even then said that, if life forced them, they might have to leave. My mom said, “I won’t let my daughter go anywhere; we’re not planning to leave anywhere. I don’t agree to marry off my daughter to have her taken away.” At that moment, my dad, Haika, stood up and said, “A daughter is a piece of a cut cloth; where there is a husband, there is a wife. If they decide to get married, it’s their business where they will live. We now know who his parents are. That’s it!” Two months later, we got married. Before the wedding, my parents came to Tashkent to meet the future relatives. On November 27, 1977, we had the wedding in Kokand, and on December 2, we had another one in Tashkent. From that moment on, I started living under the same roof with my mother-in-law.
Before the wedding, Kolya introduced me to all of his brothers and sisters, uncles, and aunts. He seemed to be seeking their approval to make sure I was a good match for him.
Once, before the wedding, we were driving in his car, and Kolya suggested we stop at his home. I declined, considering it improper, especially since it was before his proposal. But he insisted, saying it would only take a few minutes, or else we’d be late for a concert. I agreed, went into the house, and saw his mother sewing long curtains for the windows and doors. These curtains were large, and the rooms were high, about 4 meters. She was sewing them by hand. I was seeing this house for the first time, and we weren’t close at that moment. I sat next to her to help with sewing the curtains. That evening, we didn’t make it to the concert, but it marked the beginning of our close friendship.
I believe Kolya is very attentive and was looking for qualities in a wife that matched his mother’s – quickness and energy. I think he saw those qualities in me.
In their house, there were always many celebrations, receptions, memorial events, and gatherings. I tried to learn everything my mother-in-law did and helped her with everything. The two of us managed a large volume of work related to hosting guests. The house was open for regular meetings and entertainment.
In recent times, after we moved to a new house, I worked at a data center. My shift lasted for a day, and then I had two days off. Almost always, something was happening in the house, and people came to us with numerous questions and problems. They would often come to the older sister, Tamara, and the loving nieces and nephews: Danil, Lyuba, Petia, and their spouses, who couldn’t do without her. They always asked something, sought advice, and shared their concerns. Sometimes, when we were already asleep, someone would unexpectedly knock on the bedroom window, where my mom was resting, and say, “Aunt Tamara, I need to tell you something urgently.” My mom always opened the door and listened to their grievances and problems. She had a lot of patience and tried to calm them, offer advice, say that everything would work out, and not to worry.
Nine years later, in 1986, Kolya’s brother, Boris, and his wife, Olga, came from America with joyful news that the borders with the West were open. In 1987, my mom decided to visit my father’s grave and her brother Samuel and his family, as well as her relatives in Israel. The trip took place in June and July when Israel was scorching hot. Boris’s son came there from America to spend time with his mom. She stayed there for a whole month, despite the unbearable heat. In October, Kolya and his sister, Rosa, were preparing to go to America on a visitor’s visa sent by Boris. Someone suggested to my mom to buy “mumie” for the children’s journey to justify the expense. The next day, my mom went to the pharmacy to buy “mumie.” However, an unfortunate accident happened in the pharmacy – she hit the door and fell, and an ambulance was called for her.
We were at home, preparing for the trip when suddenly, Mom returned with a cast on her arm and forearm. We were frightened, but she claimed it was nothing serious, and these things happen sometimes. She even gave us the “mumie.” However, upon seeing Mom in such a state, Kolya began to refuse the trip. But Mom insisted that they shouldn’t postpone their journey because of her cast, saying, “You’ve dreamt of this trip for so long, and it shouldn’t be canceled because of my cast. I’m not alone; I have Lev, Faina here, you can go without worrying. It’s just a cast!” With heavy hearts, they set off on their trip, and we saw them off to Moscow.
Literally, just three days later, Mom had a stroke. She was lying in bed, screaming in pain and unable to get up. We didn’t understand what had happened. We thought her arm had swollen under the cast. Her skin was very delicate and white, and she complained that it was burning under the cast. Doctors were called, and the cast was removed. It turned out her arm was severely burned. Dr. Pilosov examined her and said she might have become fatigued after the trip to Israel and didn’t handle the heat well. We didn’t know it was a stroke. Mom’s condition didn’t improve; she couldn’t walk, sit, or stand. If she sat on the bed, she would become dizzy and fall. Her granddaughter Svetlana moved in with us, and my son-in-law, Lev, provided all the support he could. Fortunately, the hospital was nearby.
Mom’s blood pressure steadily increased, and suddenly she started complaining that her head was spinning. We called the ambulance, but we had to wait for almost an hour. When the ambulance finally arrived, they had difficulty finding a vein and made multiple attempts to give her an injection. She endured the pain from the large needles patiently and urged them to keep looking for a vein. However, they couldn’t find a vein on one arm and started trying the other. It was truly a challenging ordeal for her and for us.
When Kolya and Rosa arrived in America, they called us. Kolya asked why Mom wasn’t answering the phone and where she was. Mom was lying in a large room, and the telephone was on the terrace. She couldn’t get up, and the phone cable didn’t reach her. I told Kolya that Mom wasn’t home and asked him not to worry, that everything was fine. Kolya asked me to warn Mom to be at home when he called back. Mom’s condition was dreadful. I told Lev that they needed to tell the truth, or else, God forbid, something could happen, and they wouldn’t forgive us. We had three children, and nobody else was around; we were completely alone. Lev replied, “Fayuha, don’t worry, we’ll handle it.” That day, I went to the telephone company, found a technician, and paid him to extend the telephone cable to the bed where Mom was lying. The next day, we received a call. Mom picked up the phone and said, “Kolya, everything is fine with me; I feel normal. Relax, don’t worry.” We were shocked that she didn’t tell the truth. We asked, “Mom, why didn’t you tell the truth?”. She replied that the children had gone far away and spent a lot of money, and they should relax.
We had to learn how to give injections ourselves. When Mom’s blood pressure spiked, we didn’t call an ambulance; instead, we administered the injections and took care of her, doing the laundry and cleaning. During her illness, our house had a constant flow of visitors: all of her siblings, nieces, and nephews, her friends and neighbors came to visit her. Each time, she asked us to prepare something to eat and set the table. So, we spent the whole day preparing and tidying up.
The period of her illness coincided with the mass emigration of Jews abroad. Friends and even strangers came, asking whether they should take any valuables with them. They showed her their jewelry and sought her advice. Despite her illness, she gave advice and assistance. In this condition, she continued her commercial activities.
I still don’t understand how we managed to cope with this situation, especially considering that we had both my and Rosa’s children in the house. It was an incredibly challenging period. When her sister Sarah returned from her trip to Israel and saw Mom in that condition, she had a shock and a fit of hysteria, and we had to calm her down.
The day of the children’s arrival from America finally came. Lev went to the airport. Mom asked me to dress her and take her to the porch so that the children wouldn’t see her in bed and get scared. The plane arrived at 6 in the morning, and she stood on the porch, waiting for them. It was a time of great anticipation. The children arrived, and everything started returning to normal. Mom received treatment for almost a year. The decision to move to America was made, and Mom went back to work to secure our decent departure. A new era of preparation for the move began – selling and buying things.
And so, we found ourselves in Moscow. We bid farewell to Rosa’s family first. Mom didn’t want to sell her jewelry until the last day, but it turned out for the best. A few days before departure, we were allowed to export gold items in unlimited quantities, except for historical artifacts. We declared all the valuables.
When it was time for the inspection, the inspector noticed that there were more valuables not listed in the declaration and asked where they were. We looked at Mom and asked where the bracelet was. She said she had hidden it. Kolya persuaded her to retrieve it, saying that we had permission. She took the concealed bracelet out of her hair. It was an incredibly nervous moment because there were people around us, a line behind us, and we were waiting for her to extract the bracelet from her hair. Kolya asked, “Did you hide anything else?”. Thanks to Mom’s deft handling, we were fortunate, and we were allowed to take everything we had.
Back in Tashkent, we managed to pack up all the crystal, dishes, china, and carpets – nearly everything that was dear to Mom. The baggage was delayed in transit, and we received it only three months after arriving in America. We no longer hoped to see our belongings in good condition, but fortunately, everything was intact and safe. Not a single item was broken or lost.
Upon arrival in Vienna, we encountered a terrible climate that Mom struggled to tolerate. Her blood pressure fluctuated, and we often had to call an ambulance. The doctors would come and stay until her condition stabilized. For eight months, we lived in constant tension, worrying about Mom’s health and waiting for permission to enter the United States. During this time, we also assisted those who were transiting through, meeting, receiving, and escorting them to Italy. We were told that Italy was difficult and expensive.
Mom asked us to prepare food for those who were leaving, and we accompanied people to Italy with provisions. Even on foreign soil, she aimed to help our compatriots.
In Vienna, we were told twice that we should be ready to leave. We packed our bags all night, expecting a morning departure, only for the trip to be canceled in the morning. After seven months of tense waiting, we were finally prepared to go to Israel. The waiting had been unbearable. We contacted Boris in America, and he said, “You’re going crazy. Wait, not today; tomorrow, you’ll be granted permission. Relax, you’re on your Viennese vacation. You won’t have another opportunity like this.” We didn’t tell him how difficult it was, fearing that we’d lose Mom in Vienna.
After eight months, we were called to the U.S. Embassy, where they asked us questions and took notes. Mom held a small book with a portrait of the Lubavitcher Rebbe close to her heart. The consul asked what she had in her hand, and she showed him the book. He smiled and said that we had been granted permission to enter the United States. We were overjoyed and waited for the day of departure.
But Mom ended up in the hospital again due to a seizure. She felt unwell, and it started to hail outside. Suddenly, the hail stopped, the sun came out, and two white doves landed on the windowsill. Mom said, “We will receive permission to leave tomorrow; the doves are a good sign.”
Upon arriving in the U.S., we immediately started looking for a doctor for Mom. Fortunately, we found an experienced neurologist, Dr. Shaffer. After an examination, she informed us that Mom had experienced a stroke back in Tashkent, and intensive treatment began, lasting a year.
Kolya and I worked, returning home late, and Mom took care of our children. She fed them, gave them drinks, picked them up and dropped them off from school. Friends and relatives lived nearby, and their children came to our house, with Mom sitting with them. We celebrated all holidays and events, and Mom always welcomed guests and invited new acquaintances to our home. Our lifestyle in America didn’t differ much from what it was in Tashkent.
Our grandson Ruben often came but didn’t stay for long. However, the last time, he called and said, “Babulya, I’ll come over now.” Mom asked if everything was okay with him, and he replied, “Yes, I just missed you.” He came over, and we had dinner. On that evening, he had a long conversation with his grandmother, sharing international news and events. Mom was always interested in the world and read a lot. In the evenings, she would tell us interesting articles from magazines and newspapers, and even recommend what to read. She preferred each of us to read independently, believing that it was better for remembering and understanding. This evening with Ruben happened a week before her passing. Mom had incredible abilities for solving logic puzzles, crosswords, and Sudoku. She spent a lot of time engrossed in solving these puzzles. Sometimes even young people couldn’t find the answer, while she would find it without much effort. She deserves credit for her persistence in solving various puzzles. One day, she spent a whole day working on a logical puzzle, and in the end, she concluded that there was no solution. But Kolya took the puzzle, and soon he found the answer. In the following hour, Mom also found the solution. Her skills and determination in solving puzzles were
Our grandson Ruben often came but didn’t stay for long. However, the last time, he called and said, “Babulya, I’ll come over now.” Mom asked if everything was okay with him, and he replied, “Yes, I just missed you.” He came over, and we had dinner. On that evening, he had a long conversation with his grandmother, sharing international news and events. Mom was always interested in the world and read a lot. In the evenings, she would tell us interesting articles from magazines and newspapers, and even recommend what to read. She preferred each of us to read independently, believing that it was better for remembering and understanding. This evening with Ruben happened a week before her passing. Mom had incredible abilities for solving logic puzzles, crosswords, and Sudoku. She spent a lot of time engrossed in solving these puzzles. Sometimes even young people couldn’t find the answer, while she would find it without much effort. She deserves credit for her persistence in solving various puzzles. One day, she spent a whole day working on a logical puzzle, and in the end, she concluded that there was no solution. But Kolya took the puzzle, and soon he found the answer. In the following hour, Mom also found the solution. Her skills and determination in solving puzzles were
Mom also knew all the phone numbers by heart, and if we forgot them, she could recite them from memory. She had a phenomenal memory.
Losing such a person was very hard. She was like a real mother to me. I lived with her longer than with my own parents. I am grateful to her for raising my children so wonderfully, and I am sure that the children will always remember their grandmother with pride.
Furthermore, I don’t know my own family history as well as the genealogy of the Gulkarov and Mavashev families. Mom loved to talk about her relatives, not just to us, her children, but also to her grandchildren. They could listen to her for hours without interruption
Mom also knew all the phone numbers by heart, and if we forgot them, she could recite them from memory. She had a phenomenal memory.
Losing such a person was very hard. She was like a real mother to me. I lived with her longer than with my own parents. I am grateful to her for raising my children so wonderfully, and I am sure that the children will always remember their grandmother with pride.
Furthermore, I don’t know my own family history as well as the genealogy of the Gulkarov and Mavashev families. Mom loved to talk about her relatives, not just to us, her children, but also to her grandchildren. They could listen to her for hours without interruption
