How a Swiss man became a Russian beekeeper & an Old Believer

“I guess, some of my ancestors were Cossacks who marched with Suvorov through the Alps,” Benjamin Forster jokes. “Otherwise, how come that there is so much Russian in me?” 

The Swiss man has been living in Russia since 2010. During this time, he met his Russian wife, had a son, built a house, became a beekeeper, a Cossack and even an Old Believer. So, how does he get on in Russia? 

Expat community in an ancient Russian city

Forster lives with his family in Pereslavl Zalessky, a small town 130 kilometers from Moscow. A Dutchman, a Frenchman, several Americans and a Cuban also live in the old Russian town. In a village nearby, Anja Pabst, a German woman, has built a house for herself (read more about her story here).

Benjamin explains the foreign migration to Pereslavl by its proximity to Moscow and the rich history of these places. The town has the same founder as Moscow, Grand Prince Yuri Dolgoruky. Prince Alexander Nevsky was born there, while Peter the Great trained his fleet of fun on the local Lake Pleshcheyevo.

Pereslavl Zalessky is a part of the famous touristic route, called the ‘Golden Ring’ of Russia. And, now, among the sights shown to tourists are not only ancient temples, but also Forster's bee farm.

How Benjamin became a Russian ‘Venya’

The Swiss man looks like a real Russian bogatyr: two meters tall, mighty shoulders. And he built his house in the Russian style, although it also has modern things: a coffee machine, computers, printers (his wife Ekaterina is a professional photographer). 

“Everyone here calls me not ‘Benjamin’, but a russified version, ‘Veniamin’, so you can call me ‘Venya’! It's my baptismal name,” Forster says. He and his family are Old Believers. But, they live an ordinary life, without hardship as we got used to know about Siberian Old Believers hermits.

“We are different in that we follow the church rites of Orthodoxy, which were in Russia before Patriarch Nikon, before 1654.”

Neighbors say of the Swiss native that he is open, hospitable and simple, just like a Russian. 

“I've always been like that and that's very different from the Swiss. What is our mentality? People meet in Switzerland at a picnic, everyone brings their own food and eats only that food. But, in Russia, there is a common table, everyone shares, there is no difference between ‘yours and mine’. I saw this in Switzerland with my Russian friends and I liked it very much.”

Why Russia?

Benjamin’s Russian friends were the sons of Anatoly Koryagin, a psychiatrist who opposed Soviet punitive psychiatry and was forced to emigrate in 1987.

The Koryagin brothers told Benjamin a lot about Russia. After the collapse of the USSR, they returned to their homeland and settled in Pereslavl. Benjamin came to visit in the Winter of 1996 and liked it so much that he started to spend every vacation there: fishing, picnics in nature, small trips around Russia.

Benjamin also liked the Russian banya (bathouse). He steamed at such extremely high temperatures that everyone around him was sure that he was Russian himself.

How did a Swiss man become a beekeeper?

Benjamin was introduced to bees by a friend from Russia. He was going through a difficult divorce at the time. His first wife was also Russian and they lived in Switzerland, but she didn’t want to move back to Russia. To distract himself, he started working with bees.

Switzerland has a closed beekeeping union and Russia is easier: there are lots of meadows and tall grass. 

“I started beekeeping the Russian way, but soon realized that there were a lot of mistakes in the system, so I retrained and now make honey according to Swiss technology.”

Benjamin says that beekeeping was strong in the USSR, but the collapse of the Union coincided with the emergence of a new pest, and, in Russia, it was dealt with only with chemicals and pesticides. Which affected the quality of the honey. 

“I am constantly learning: I study new German-language books, I use modern technologies that guarantee quality. That's why my honey costs twice as much as store honey,” Forster says.

How did the Swiss convert to Orthodoxy?

Benjamin's parents were Protestants. As a young man, he was looking for something of his own. He went to church a couple of times, but he did not like the “cold” atmosphere of a Protestant religious service. Like many other things in life, Orthodoxy first came into the Swiss's life with his Russian friends. With them, he went to an Orthodox church in France. 

“Everything seemed different there: icons in gold, strength, beauty and mystery,” Benjamin recalls. And a priest advised him to look for answers on Mount Athos. There was a monk there who spoke German. Benjamin went there, talked to the monk and was baptized into Orthodoxy there. His friend Alexander Koryagin became his godfather. 

Russian wife, Cossack life and the ‘Russian insurance’

Benjamin met his Russian wife on an Orthodox dating site. Now, they are raising their four-year-old son Savva together. 

In Pereslavl, Benjamin also became interested in Cossack culture. He was especially fascinated by the skill of flanking, the art of spinning a saber. He tried it and immediately succeeded. And, a year later, he beat 140 rivals to become a champion in the competition. 

Now, he considers himself to be a real Cossack and sings Cossack songs in Russian on all holidays. By the way, Benjamin learned the Russian language almost exclusively orally. Since 2010, he has been constantly leading excursions, communicating with Russian people, which helped him learn to speak. 

“Switzerland is a country where everything is insured. Life, house, stuff. The state compensates for everything. In Russia, people live like this: today your car broke down, tomorrow mine – let's help each other. This is what I call ‘social insurance’. And, on the one hand, you are sure that you will be helped, while, on the other hand, it is always very fulfilling and pleasant to help someone!”

The full version of the interview was published in Russian in the ‘Nation’ magazine.