Free air
When Ilkhom Muzzafarov and his wife Dilyara, her father, and their oldest son Ilyas arrived in Charlottesville seven years ago, they breathed a sigh of relief. Adjusting to a new climate and jet-lag had replaced police harassment and racial hatred as their immediate concerns.
“We’re free here,” he said. “We’re safe. I’m not scared for my kids going to school.”
At age 10 Muzzafarov moved from Uzbekistan to Chechnya, a federal republic in the southwest of Russia that has been in political turmoil since the fall of the Soviet Union. The region has been in and out of war with Russia since the 1990s, and Muzzafarov said he wanted to come to the U.S. for one thing: freedom.
As a transplant from Uzbekistan, Muzzafarov said he was constantly harassed by the police, who demanded to see identification and made it clear that he and his family were not welcome. Uzbeks have been driven out of their country by political and religious persecution for years, settling in Russia, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan. In many Russian regions, Uzbeks are still treated as underclass citizens.
“Every day the police were asking me why I was there,” he said. “I live here seven years, nobody checked me once.”
Muzzafarov was hesitant to share much about his experience in Chechnya, but his face softened when he remembered his first impression of his new home. Before landing in Charlottesville, he said he never imagined he’d be able to provide such a safe, stable life for his family. Neighbors smile and say “hello” when he’s walking outside, he said, and his 8-year-old son already has aspirations to go to college and one day be a doctor.
“That would never happen in Russia,” he said.
When I asked if he misses anything about Russia, Muzzafarov shook his head.
“Just the friends,” he said. “I like it here; I have a job.”
With the help of the IRC, Muzzafarov landed a job at Whole Foods, and has since been promoted to a supervisory position that supports a household of six and allows Dilyara to stay at home with the three kids, Ilyas, 8, Muzaffar, 5, and baby sister Elef.
The family’s only complaint is that Americans don’t seem to know how to celebrate a holiday.
“Do you celebrate the new year?” Dilyara asked. “There was no party!”
She described the occasion in Russia as an elaborate, vibrant affair, when everybody floods the streets with dancing and hugging. Trees and buildings light up with colorful decorations, fireworks go off all over the country, and lively concerts fill the night with music until the wee hours of the morning.
At the mention of his homeland’s grand holidays, Ilyas’ eyes widened.
“I can’t wait to go back to Russia!” he said in perfect English, before returning to a conversation in Russian with his younger brother.
Next month, Dilyara will devote a day to her husband in honor of the Russian holiday “Man’s Day.” She’ll cook him a special dinner, likely buy him a gift, and spend the day focusing on him and his happiness. In March, Muzzafarov will return the sentiment and shower her with love on “Woman’s Day.”
“It’s very romantic,” she said, catching her husband’s eye and grinning like a schoolgirl. “It’s different from Mother’s Day—it’s every woman.”
Dilyara said she hopes to one day return to Russia to visit friends and show the kids around, but has no desire to move back permanently. She is happy to be adapting to American life.
Once the three kids are all in school, Dilyara wants to devote more time to improving her language skills with the Literacy Volunteers Charlottesville/Albemarle, a nonprofit group at the Jefferson School City Center that tutors adults.
Ilyas had to translate much of my conversation with Dilyara, who looked embarrassed and apologized for the confusion. I couldn’t imagine tackling a foreign language in a new country, and she smiled gratefully and briefly rested her hand on my arm when I told her so.
After hiding from his little sister behind the living room curtain and laughing with her when she found him, Ilyas sat down and rattled off the reasons he likes Charlottesville. Any kid could have said the same things.
“I play soccer with my dad,” he said. “We have picnics, and I love going to the Downtown. I like that water fountain, and you can throw coins in there.”
Like many American families, Ilkhom and Dilyara take the kids to the park, break up sibling battles, and sit down together for a homemade dinner at night. With the exception of the occasional pizza—and Five Guys, Ilyas’ favorite—the family eats mostly Russian food, because it’s “more healthy.”
A tiered pastry stand sits on the dining room table, and the house smells of homemade Russian breads, cookies, and soups. Pilaf—a rice dish with beef and vegetables —is the family staple.
“I work at Whole Foods, and we have a lot of food that’s good,” Muzzafarov said. “But I like my own better.”
They’re building a home of mixed cultures, and Muzzafarov said he wouldn’t have it any other way. The kids will grow up with Russia infused into their daily lives, but as far as he and Dilyara are concerned, America is home.
“We are so grateful to be here,” he said.