“Like a Mother to Me”: Reflecting on JDC in Kazakhstan

Sofya Verevkina nearly died as an infant. Beset with a host of health complications, she survived thanks only to one woman who adopted her as her own Jewish daughter. Decades later, faced with the profound difficulty of surviving the difficult decades following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Sofya found the same love and strength her mother gave her through the JDC-supported Hesed Polina social service center in her hometown of Almaty, Kazakhstan. 

In this Mother’s Day reflection, Sofya, 67, celebrates the ways her own mother and JDC have given her the building blocks of a dignified, joyful Jewish life.  

Before my mother was my mother, she saved my life. 

I was born prematurely at less than two pounds. I looked like a bag of bones, was covered in bedsores, and though a healthy hemoglobin level for a newborn is 14-24 grams per deciliter (g/dl), mine was only 1 g/dl. My life hung by a thread.

The woman who became my mother — the head medical professional for the district — held me in her arms and said to herself, “I can’t consider myself a doctor if I don’t care for this baby.” 

“Rayechka, take the baby so you’re not left alone,” her mother Sophia, my eventual grandmother, had said to her. “You’re already old.” But my mother didn’t need encouragement. 

“When I saw your eyes,” she later told me, “I decided you were my daughter.” 

She was 41 and had already had two miscarriages. For complicated reasons, my biological mother wasn’t able to care for me. My adoptive mother gave me a home and the chance to survive. 

She was a remarkable woman. A surgeon, war veteran, and captain in the medical service, nothing intimidated her. At the age of 50, she started playing piano by ear. From then on, she joined amateur performances.

She was also Jewish. Though there weren’t many others in our community, she made sure I had a Jewish upbringing. We lived for the holidays, my mother baking delicious hamantaschen with poppy seeds and cinnamon for Purim. My grandfather always went to the synagogue, and on Yom Kippur, he’d swing a chicken over his head and pray. 

We never hid our Jewishness. But given that antisemitism was rife in the Soviet Union, my mother once suggested my father change his name from the Jewish “Peisya” to the more ambiguous “Pyotr.” He refused. 

“I’ll preserve the name my mother gave to me,” he said.

I carried that same Jewish joy and defiance into my adulthood. 

From a very young age, I worked hard, enrolling in technical school after the 8th grade and studying accounting. I found love, too, though it was paired with tragedy — four different husbands left me a widow. 

When I was laid off during perestroika — a time of economic and political transformation in the Soviet Union —  I and many others faced extreme hardship. 

These changes couldn’t have come at a worse time. I had just given birth to my son Sasha, at 39, and struggled to put food on the table. Once again, it felt like life hung by a thread. Where could I turn? Who would help? 

My Sasha was just 2 years old when I first connected with the JDC-supported Hesed Polina social service center here in Almaty. Once there, our life began to settle down; in fact, you could say my children were also raised by JDC, welcomed into the Jewish community with open arms. 

Today, Hesed Polina is our second home, a place where we can embrace our full Jewish selves. My children, grandchildren, and I treat the team there like family. 

Without them, we’d be utterly lost. Prices rise each year and our pensions fail to cover basic needs. We try to save up, but groceries and medicine are exorbitant. JDC helps with food, medicine, clothes, and other necessities. Even my teeth, those are thanks to JDC — they gave me dentures and paid for everything!

But it’s not by bread alone that we survive: JDC understands that Jews need spiritual sustenance, too.

When I’m at Hesed, I’m transported back to the Jewish childhood my mother gave me. Together, we celebrate all the holidays. On Passover, we receive matzah. We gather for Shabbat on Friday. And each Chanukah, we never fail to light the menorah. 

Jews help each other because we’re a close-knit people. We stand up for each other, and we never let each other fall behind. That’s something to be proud of. 

As we approach Mother’s Day, I find myself thinking about what makes a good mother. Kindness, honesty, loyalty, integrity, and consistency — the same five qualities that define JDC. 

Like my mother, who held me in her arms after I was born and declared me her daughter, JDC has always been there for me, too. When my family and I faced hardship, when we had nowhere else to go, they took us in. They said, “You are one of us.” 

I grew up on donor blood. The doctors said that if it weren’t for my strong heart, I wouldn’t have survived. Nothing would’ve helped if it hadn’t been for the blood of those generous others.

When I asked my mother who my donors were, she said, “Sonya, you can’t list them all, but they gave you life.” 

I will be always grateful to my fellow Jews because no one else took me in. Just like when I was born, I can’t list all the remarkable people whose support for JDC continues to give me and so many other Jews here in Kazakhstan life. 

But I carry you right here, in my heart.

Sofya Verevkina, 67, is a JDC client in Almaty, Kazakhstan.

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