Bringing Home the Bacon
The family that stays together gets paid together
Lena Ivanov is standing by the stove stirring a pot. She is carrying her youngest as she walks over to the little kitchen table where I'm sitting on one of those grey folding chairs made of metal. She sits down; I look around. The room is poorly lit. It's dark.
Lena and her husband Sergei have eight children. Lena has no job, and Sergei is also unemployed at the moment. The Permanent Fund Dividend equals four fifths of this family's income.
"Take away dividend is like killing people," Lena says. "If no dividend, maybe we would have to move. There are not a lot of jobs here."
Photographer Kelly Moore and I are in Delta Junction, a small community in Alaska's Interior visiting two Russian families. Through the Permanent Fund Dividend database where all the people in Alaska who received the dividend in 2003 are listed, I was able to pull out the largest families with the help of a computer-savvy friend. The Ivanovs are one of the families on our list. The Malyks with 14 children is another.
Many large Russian families have settled here in Delta. Freedom of religion is the main reason for most of these families. During the Soviet era, religious oppression was everyday life. Just as the Mongols crossed the Bering Strait thousands of years ago, it was natural for Russians to do the same and immigrate to Alaska. But life isn't easy for many Russian families in Delta. Unemployment is high and jobs are tough to find. As long as the dividend checks are coming it's possible to survive, and more kids mean more dividends. The Malyks' dividend checks equal more than half of their household income. And for the Ivanovs it's about 80 percent.
In 2000 the dividend was at its peak, and Alaskans received close to $2,000. Since then the dividend has declined, and this year (2003) it was $1,100 — a big difference in just a few years. What will happen to the dividend in the future is uncertain, but it's likely that it will either decline or stay around $1,000 because of a potential change in the payout formula to secure the Permanent Fund's future existence.
We decided to visit these families to get a first hand look at what it's like to be dependent on the dividend and not know its future.
The Ivanovs live a little bit outside of town. When we get to their house, it's dark and all I can hear is the barking of dogs.
"They are for protection," Sergei says.
I get the impression that he's suspicious toward everything, especially journalists, but he lets us in after I promise to use fictitious names in the article. I guess it looks kind of like what I expect when I step inside, except for the huge wide-screen TV. There's not much furniture other than those grey folding chairs, a few dim lamps, a fish tank and a couch. In the bad light I can also see an unfinished remodeling job and chipboard walls.
I ask what Lena and Sergei do for a living. Lena stays at home, takes care of the children. Sergei is also unemployed but in the summer he works at Ft. Greely, the military base in town. In the winter he tries to find jobs here and there but it's difficult. Especially if you don't have a good command of English. In the summer it's easier to get a job.
"In Delta, not a lot of jobs," Lena says. "People wait for the dividend to come," Lena says.
Not knowing how the system worked in what was then the Soviet Union, I can't understand Sergei's suspiciousness, but I try. I guess one could get in trouble for talking to reporters back then. One could get in trouble for a lot of things, I learn. That's why Lena and Sergei came to Alaska.
"My husband's father spent five years in prison because going to church," Lena says.
The Ivanovs moved from Siberia in 1989. First they settled in Oregon but decided to move to Alaska. On their land they grow potatoes, and Lena says that they are planning to start growing cabbage as well.
"We like Alaska very much. It's the best state in the U.S.," she says where she sits by the kitchen table with her son in her lap. Next to us on the floor three of her little boys are playing a game.
Living in Alaska has its advantages. The dividend is one of them, but also the freedom and security, Lena explains. And the climate is similar to Siberia's.
Sergei starts to explain the importance of the dividend and how tough the last year has been since the dividend decreased from the peak in 2000.
"Big difference if you receive $11,000 or $22,000," Irena says.
The plans of buying a bulldozer for the farm were ruined, and this winter the money from the dividend will go toward paying bills, buying food and other things necessary to survive. They will not be able to buy another car, and Sergei is concerned.
"One car. What if it breaks? It's crazy. One car, it's stupid. What would you do? Die in the woods? We drive junk car," he says.
It's getting late, and Sergei wants us to leave. We drive over to the Malyks' house, where Yelena and Fyodor should now be home from church. The parents have not yet come home when we arrive, but we go inside and hang out with the kids for a while.
Christianity has a central place in their lives, and 19-year-old Olga tells me that the Russians in Delta have their own church. Normally, about 100 Russians show up for service on Sundays.
The children's names fill up a page in my notebook. Korel, Anna, Ilya, Mark, Daniel, Dimitri, Andrey, Diana, Slavic, Alex, Nina, Olga, Vitaly, Yelena and Fyodor. "What is it like to have this many siblings?" I throw out the question and expect someone to answer it.
click to enlarge — Eleven of the Malyks' 14 children in their home in Delta Junction. From left: Andrey, Dimitri, Diana, Daniel, Mark, Slavic, Korel, Ilya, Anna, Alex and Olga.
"It's fun," says Andrey, who is 12.
"Cause there are so many children. It's better than only having one or two," Olga says.
I try to picture dinnertime with 16 people around the little kitchen table. They probably don't eat all at once, I think.
"Everyone eats together. Every dinner we sit here," Slavic says.
The oldest daughter is 20 and has moved to Washington and is married, Olga explains. Yelena is now 40 years old. She had Svetlana 20 years ago and 10 years later she was the mother of nine children.
I ask the children about the dividend and if they know what it is.
"It's important. Everyone needs it. Especially for us. We're a big family," Olga says.
"It's good to have a big family. You get more dividends," Andrey says and smiles. He's 12 years old but has realized how important it is for his family to get the check each year.
Soon Fyodor and Yelena come home. Olga translates for her mother. Yelena sits down on the sofa in the kitchen that also functions as a living room. Anna, the youngest daughter, 2 years old, gets onto the sofa and stands behind her on the cushion, hugging her mother. In the other end of the room Ilya, Mark, Daniel, Dimitri and Andrey are playing with a toy that imitates the sounds of different animals. The lamb's baa is extremely popular. I wish I could close my ears. How can one stand being around that many kids every day? But I want to hear what Yelena and her husband Fyodor have to say, so I keep my ears open.
"Do you work," I ask Yelena. Olga answers. "Mom does nothing. She takes care of the family." As if that isn't like three full-time jobs, I think. But I say nothing and turn my eyes to Korel, the youngest child in the family, who has gotten a hold of a cell phone that he will throw on the floor any moment.
The Malyks came to Alaska for the same reason as the Ivanovs.
"In Russia it's hard to live," Olga says. "Especially if you are Christian. It's just hard. It's poor. We just like it better here. We're happier here." She was five when the family moved to America, so she doesn't remember much of Russia but would like to go back there some day to visit.
The Malyks seem to be somewhat better off than the Ivanovs. Fyodor is employed at Delta Industrial Service, where he works as a carpenter and a welder. The money they get from the dividends goes toward clothes, food, home school and medical care. Yelena explains that it's hard to get a job in Delta, so the dividend really helps. After all, the sum of the family's 16 dividends is more than Fyodor's paycheck. "If there is no dividend, you have to make at least $35 an hour to support your family," Yelena says.
I look at the clock on the wall and see that it's getting late. It's already dark outside. We have a long drive back to Fairbanks, and the road conditions are not that good. It rained on the way down to Delta — wet roads could now be icy roads. I get up and thank Fyodor and Yelena for their time. But they don't want us to leave. Instead they want us to stay and have something to eat, or at least a cup of tea. I politely reject their offer and we say good bye. We step out the door and drive away on the narrow dirt road.