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Transit: Armenia

Ekaterina Krongauz

BY EKATERINA KRONGAUZ

In Moscow, Kristina was an Armenian without Russian citizenship, with no possibility to open a bank account or work legally. In Yerevan, Nastya does not have a bank account or Armenian citizenship. In this couple, one is always an illegal resident.

Kristina was born in Yerevan, but the family soon moved to Luhansk, Ukraine. In 1997, when Kristina was six years old, her father, a businessman, came home and said that they should 鈥渓eave today.鈥 Something had happened to his business partners, and half a day later, with only the bare necessities packed, the family left Luhansk in a truck, took a series of trains, and got to Yerevan.

In 1997, many houses in Yerevan had no electricity or running water. Kristina calls this period of her life the 鈥渃old years.鈥 Pipes and batteries were cut off and sold for scrap. After a year and a half, her father took the family to Moscow.

Kristina understands Armenian, but her native language is Russian. She went to school in Moscow, but, absent citizenship, she could not get into the college of her choice, medical school. She trained as a hairdresser and married an Armenian who had a Russian citizenship. She gave birth to a son, Mark, and began her naturalization process in Russia. But a few years ago, before her divorce, it turned out that Kristina鈥檚 husband鈥檚 Russian citizenship had been revoked and she and her son could no longer become naturalized. She stayed on in Moscow as an illegal immigrant.

If the beauty salon where Kristina worked had offered her an official contract, everything would have been simple, but her employers didn鈥檛 want to bother with taxes. They paid Kristina in cash in an envelope, without a contract, which meant that she could not legalize her stay. She and her son lived with her parents, and she worked as a hairdresser specializing in curly hair and teaching professional courses.

That鈥檚 how, in the fall of 2021, she met 35-year-old Nastya.

Nastya (left) and Kristina stand outside of a salon for curly hair on their last day in Moscow.
Nastya (left) and Kristina stand outside of a salon for curly hair on their last day in Moscow.

For her entire life, Nastya dreamed of leaving for some other shore. In her youth, she made an attempt to emigrate to Israel, but that didn鈥檛 work. She then decided to make some money and go to Canada, where her sister lived with her wife and three children. That didn鈥檛 work out either.

In the fall of 2021, Nastya, who worked as a social project manager, decided to completely change her life. She broke up with a girlfriend, rented a small apartment, bought a car, borrowed money from friends, and went to hairdressing courses for curly hair, which were taught by Kristina.

At the end of February, Nastya, Kristina, and Mark decided to take a couple of days off and rented a house in Moscow鈥檚 suburbs. On one of those mornings, Kristina woke up to Nastya鈥檚 words: 鈥淜ristina, get up. It seems that the war has begun.鈥

Nastya immediately subscribed to chats about moving to Georgia and, for some reason, to a Facebook group 鈥淥ur Paraguay.鈥 Meanwhile, it turned that Kristina鈥檚 Armenian passport was about to expire. She had to get a new one or she would not be able to move anywhere.

鈥淚 was afraid that I would be stuck in this country,鈥 Kristina tells me. Then, one day, someone called from her son鈥檚 school and said that the lessons were canceled because a bomb was planted in the school. The bomb turned out to have been a scare, but Mark's phone had died and 鈥淚 nearly lost my mind until he returned home,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 realized that I was scared all the time. You can鈥檛 live like that.鈥

Kristina鈥檚 parents were against her departure. Her sister unexpectedly took a pro-Russian stance, and her mom blamed 鈥淯krainian Nazis鈥 for the war. Mark blamed Putin, and Kristina was afraid that he would repeat this at school and get into trouble. In the end, Kristina and Nastya decided to move to Yerevan, as the simplest and cheapest solution.

It took three attempts for them to get the tickets. First, the airports got closed, then the low-cost carrier they hoped to fly with stopped operating. Having lost several thousand dollars out of $5,000 they had had between them, Kristina and Nastya finally made it to Yerevan. Kristina鈥檚 sister and mother never understood why Kristina left.

From the moment they arrived, Nastya and Kristina decided that they would start working as hairdressers. But renting a chair at a salon turned out to be an unusual practice in Yerevan. They started working from home. 鈥淚 am one of those [people] who always thought that working at home is unseemly somehow,鈥 says Kristina, with a laugh. 鈥淣ow I put people on their knees in my bathroom to wash their hair!鈥

A Russian citizen can stay in Armenia for 180 days a year, after which he or she needs to leave and re-enter. One is fined 10,000 rubles (about $150) if one overstays. But Yerevan is not this couple鈥檚 final destination. The problem is, Kristina and Nastya have not yet agreed on where to go next. They鈥檝e known each other for half a year and are already having to make such complex decisions together.

Kristina recently came out to her sister, who lives in America. She reacted calmly to the news. But Kristina is not ready to come out to her parents or her other sister yet. Mark still believes Kristina and Nastya are just friends. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 demonstrate anything in public,鈥 says Nastya. 鈥淓verything is prohibited here. The girl who ran a gay club here had to leave.鈥

In Yerevan, as well as in Moscow, there are protests and rallies. 鈥淎t first, I thought it was some kind of open-air picnic. Here in the protest tent city everyone drinks, dances, and barbecues. I remember the feeling in Moscow: every time you walk past a policeman you shrink. That鈥檚 not the case here,鈥 Kristina says. Nastya clarifies: 鈥淭he fact is, we don鈥檛 know local alignments. We just don鈥檛 understand the local situation.鈥

Nastya doesn鈥檛 think she has reached her final destination. She is saving money again, for further emigration. She thinks and thinks, makes a decision, then reverses it and scolds herself. She feels she didn鈥檛 have enough guts to leave on her own, that she was 鈥渟queezed鈥 out of Russia 鈥渓ike toothpaste from a tube.鈥 She is frustrated with herself: 鈥淗ow long can one keep saying that one will leave and never leave anyway!鈥

鈥淏ut you left, didn鈥檛 you?鈥 Kristina asks. 鈥淭o Armenia?! This doesn鈥檛 count,鈥 says Nastya.

The opinions expressed in this article are those solely of the authors and do not reflect the views of the Kennan Institute.

About the Author

Ekaterina Krongauz

Ekaterina Krongauz

Kennan Correspondent on Russian Media and Society;
Independent Journalist
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Kennan Institute

The Kennan Institute is the premier US center for advanced research on Eurasia and the oldest and largest regional program at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. The Kennan Institute is committed to improving American understanding of Russia, Ukraine, Central Asia, the South Caucasus, and the surrounding region though research and exchange.  Read more