Chechen refugees win asylum in LV

Stacy J. Willis

Friday, Jan. 21, 2000 | 11:11 a.m.

After their husbands were killed and their neighborhood flattened by bombs, Chechens Irina Fyodorovich and Aniska Ilichova slipped out of a Russian refugee camp, walked four hours to a train station and rode to Moscow.

Then they stole away on a tourist flight to Mexico City.

And bused to Tijuana.

And walked to San Diego.

And were arrested and sent to a California detention center.

But the cells were overcrowded, so they were flown to Las Vegas, where, wearing shackles and blue jail jumpsuits earlier this month, they asked the court for help. They were granted asylum.

Now as accidental Las Vegans the two Russian-speaking women, both 43, are sitting in an immigration attorney's office wearing borrowed clothing and telling their survival story.

"We never imagined six months ago that any of this would ever happen," Fyodorovich said through an interpreter. "We never imagined six months ago that we would be here now."

Before the Chechen-Russian war escalated near their home in Grozny last fall, Fyodorovich and Ilichova lived "uneventful" lives in the surburbs -- Fyodorovich's husband drove a refrigerated truck while she stayed home with her son; Ilichova's husband worked construction while she worked in sales.

The two women were neighbors.

As civilians, they said, their political opinions did not support that of the Muslims nor the Russian military -- and while their homeland was under seige, they were not welcome in Russia as Chechens.

For this story they asked that their names be changed to protect members of their families still hiding in the region.

"When the bombing started in October, we took refuge in the basement on an almost constant basis," Fyodorovich said. "During this time I had infections in my ears and eventually both eardrums burst."

The bombing became so bad that a group of neighbors organized a bus caravan and headed for the border. Rushed and tight on space, they could only pack some potatoes and lard and a few photographs. One bus was blown up by artillery during their slow, five-day trip.

At the border, Fyodorovich gave her wristwatch to a Russian soldier in order to move them to the front of a long line of Chechens seeking refuge in a camp. But once at the front of the line, the women were separated from the men, who were not allowed to enter.

"I did not see my husband again," Fyodorovich said. She learned later that he had taken shelter in his parents' summer home and was killed when it was bombed. Ilichova's husband was hit by artillery while walking along a road back toward their home in Grozny.

Though Fyodorovich has traded her hat and boots -- in addition to her watch -- to get help along the way, she keeps a pair of diamond earrings given to her by her husband.

Escape

In the refugee camp, the two women slept in tents and relied on a campfire for heat in the Russian winter.

"We were still afraid for our lives," Ilichova said through tears. "I don't know how we kept going except wanting to survive. We just wanted to survive."

With the help of Illichova's mother who had a certain amount of freedom in Russia, an escape plan was hatched: they would sneak out of the camp, travel to Moscow and, with visas secured by her mother, register for a tourist trip out of the region.

"With our tourist visas and $200 given to us by her mother, we joined a group of 10 actual tourists and left Moscow," Fyodorovich said.

Several days later they arrived in Mexico City, where they split with the tour group and began asking locals for directions to the United States border.

They spent their last bit of money on bus tickets to Tijuana, Mexico, where, exhausted and traumatized, they crossed into the United States.

"We asked for police, but no one would help us, so we were just walking around in San Diego," Fyodorovich said. "Until finally a policeman listened to us -- but they handcuffed us, and we couldn't understand why -- we had turned ourselves in asking for help."

As illegal aliens, they were shipped by U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Services from the overcrowded detention centers in San Diego to Las Vegas, where attorney Julia Osborne took their case pro bono.

"I couldn't believe what they had gone through," said Osborne, who gave them a small amount of cash to buy clean undergarments and introduced them to Sister Klaryta Antoszewska, an English- and Russian-speaking Catholic nun who helps refugees and asylees adapt to Las Vegas.

"At that point I became more of a social worker than a lawyer," Osborne said. "I don't normally do that, but this was an exceptional case."

Recovery

Three nights ago, well-fed and well-rested, Fyodorovich and Ilichova stayed up late in Sister Klaryta's living room talking and crying until the wee hours.

"We just want things to be a little easier now," Fyodorovich said. "And we fear for our relatives left behind."

"These are two very strong women," Antoszewska said. "They will make it. "

With the help of Antoszewska and Osborne, the two women will register temporarily for Medicare, Social Security benefits and food stamps. They will begin learning English, and then they will look for work.

Antoszewska has agreed to let them stay in her home, where she lives with another nun, until they can afford an apartment of their own.

"We are so grateful for the kindness people have shown us," Fyodorovich said. "Now I just want to work. I will do any job."

"The most important thing is that we will not be deported," Ilichova said. "It would be the death of us.

"But there is no minute in our lives that we don't think about the people who suffer over there every day."

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