HELLO, THIS IS RUSSIA CALLING. WILL YOU ACCEPT THE CHARGE?

I have learned that when my phone rings at 4 a.m., I should just answer in Russian. Invariably, a friend from Russia or Ukraine is on the other end of the line.

Although I am a little groggy at this hour, I am never upset. To telephone me in the United States is a serious endeavor for my friends. For most of them, a ten minute call costs over half a month's wage. And to place a call, they must trek halfway across town to wait for hours to reserve a line at a special international phone office. Then they must return at the requested time, wait another hour or two, and hope that the operator is able to make the connection for them.

Connections are not always made. There is a debilitating shortage of international phone lines in the former Soviet Union. And even when connections do happen, there is often a booming echo. And always a near-deafening hiss.

In the old Soviet Union, it used to be that there were ten times as many televisions as telephones. A friend there explained this to me by saying that the Soviet government wanted its people to receive information (state-provided), but it did not want them to talk among themselves (freedom of communication). Of course, he also explained that the televisions tended to explode so regularly ("We've learned not to have the lights and the television on at the same time," he said, seriously) that there were actually an equivalent number of working TVs to telephones, which are a simpler technology. So simple, in fact, that the phones being produced today are the same they were making fifty years ago.

Over the year and a half that I have been back in the States, these early-morning calls have ranged dramatically in content: from a former girlfriend and her friends singing happy birthday in the most endearing broken English to a Siberian acquaintance talking in a cryptic code, hoping not to be cut off by the operator, but desperately needing to know if a coup had started in Moscow. In this particular case, it hadn't.

The one I received Saturday morning from Moscow was not a typical call (as if any are). In fact, it did not even come from a Russian. It was from a friend I had studied with at the Pushkin Institute in Moscow who is from Guinea, a poor and troubled country in western Africa.

Trained in Moscow to be a Russian teacher, my friend is no longer needed at home, where Russian language study has no purpose now that aid from the Soviet Union once massive has dried up almost over night. He is in Moscow now, trying to get a visa to the United States.

As my friend does not speak English (we speak Russian and French together), we both realize his chances are slim. Still, he will persevere. And I will do all that I can from here without being foolish.

My friend from Guinea is not alone in looking to the United States for leadership and assistance. Someone else who is looking to the United States is Jerzy Zawadzki.

I do not know Mr. Zawadzki, but last week the newspaper received a letter from him. Because his letter symbolizes the kind of plea that is coming out from so many countries be it the former Soviet Union, Guinea, Viet Nam, Haiti and on and on I will reprint part of it here.

"Dear Sir,

We are a Polish family composed of me and my wife, Alexandra, and three young boys, Matthew, Dominic and Philip. Whole family is in good health.

In May 1988, we came to Belgium with the strong intention of going further, hopefully, to the USA. It was very hard for us to go out of Poland. We spent over one year to prepare our trip. And now, we are living in a small Belgian town, at 8 km from German border, waiting still for our immigration papers. And yet it takes more time, too much time, and it seems impossible to obtain them.

We would still like to have a try to going to US. We asked for the US immigration visa but to get it, they say that we must fulfill some conditions.

Our greatest difficulty is to find in the US a sponsor (private person, church, social organization, firm and so on), who will allow us to find a job and a lodgings or an accommodation, however modest.

Living in a small town in Belgium, such sponsor is very difficult for us to find and, unfortunately, we have not family or cousins in North America.

It was with great pleasure that we saw recently on West German television a very interesting program about Cape Girardeau and its newspaper, and that's the way we got to know about you.

After the program, we said to ourselves, perhaps we could find happiness in your town and, with your help, this so much wanted and desired sponsor."

For the rest of the letter, Mr. Zawadzki lists his and his wife's work and school credentials, including the fact that they are both fluent in French, English, German, Russian and Polish, and that if they can find a sponsor, they have saved enough money to make a beginning in the States, at almost any kind of job.

He finishes the letter with the following paragraph.

"Dear Sir, we are imploring you to help us. We hope to fulfill our plans in this country with a great and long democratic tradition. You are the only one person who in our opinion could help. We await your reply, even if negative. God bless you! God bless all people of Cape Girardeau! God bless the President of the United States of America! God bless America!

George, Alexandra and family."

As I said, my friend in Moscow is not alone in looking to the United States for leadership and assistance. George Zawadzki is. The Commonwealth of Independent States is. El Salvador is. Even Japan is.

Indeed, the whole world looks to us, the lone superpower, the United States of America. It is a burden of tremendous responsibility not to be shirked in this time of need (although we certainly have our own problems) but rather to be carried proudly, with wisdom and with strength.