Immigrant Topples Language Barriers Former Soviet Woman Carves Niche With Flourishing Translation Business

Olga Kamp was broke and alone.

Her family was an ocean away. She had studied British English all her life, but Americans were hard to understand.

And though she was determined not to return to the Soviet Union, Kamp was in the United States on a visitor visa. Once it expired, she would be forced to return to Moscow if caught.

Kamp was in a jam, and she owed it all to Mickey Mouse.

“I saw a picture of Disneyland,” Kamp says, thinking back to when she was 4. Her father worked as a magazine photographer, traveling the world on assignment. “I thought, ‘Wow. What a country. I’ve got to go there and live.”’

A lot has happened to Kamp since coming to America seven years ago. The 29-year-old has gone from being a refugee to the president and CEO of a translation firm with 70 interpreters.

Her company, Language Assistance Bureau, specializes in 22 languages. It contracts with the state, translating public assistance applications and medical forms. The firm also handles corporate and one-on-one interpreting. Its fees range from $20 to $40 per hour.

“She came to this country with nothing, and made a niche for herself,” says Kevin Johnson, one of Kamp’s employees. “I’m really proud of her.”

When she first moved to Spokane, Kamp worked at retail and grocery store jobs. After a few years, she began working as a free-lance Russian interpreter, and also taught with Washington State Educational Service District 101. Two years ago, she decided there was real money to be made in the Lilac City and there was demand for more than just expertise in Russian.

Her company also frequently translates Spanish, Vietnamese, Hmong, Laotian, Serbo-Croatian and Bulgarian. “And of course, French, German, Italian,” Kamp adds.

She set up shop in her basement and worked there for about a year.

“I was interpreting, a secretary, billing and everything. It was crazy,” Kamp remembers, rolling her eyes. “The phone started ringing at 6 in the morning and kept going until midnight. Basically, I had no life.”

Once she landed frequent jobs with the state, Kamp was able to add staff and move into an office at Crestline and Illinois. The building has been the company’s home for a year now. Clients take her more seriously than when she was “working out of a dark, cold basement with spiders,” Kamp says with a shiver.

These days, she comes off as Lee Iacocca in a pants suit. Save for the slight accent, she couldn’t seem more the picture of American success. She has the clothes, the one-liners, the flashy purple Accord with bright silver wheels.

It wasn’t always so.

“In Moscow, I was afraid to call anyone” about a job, Kamp says, much less sign big deals. The Moscow Conservatory of Music graduate was quiet and had low self-esteem. She was trained as a pianist, not an entrepreneur.

“I was shy,” Kamp says. Her office manager, Sue Trieschmann, flashes her a “You must be kidding” look.

“I was!” Kamp shoots back, smiling.

Getting used to the states took time. At first, she traveled around, living in Washington, D.C., Chicago, Manhattan and Detroit.

Manhattan seemed the most familiar. People look right through you there, Kamp says, just like in Moscow. “I felt like I was home … same crowds with no eye contact.”

Settling in Spokane was the big change. She came here in 1990 to stay with a friend of her father.

“For the first year, it was hard to get used to the friendliness of the people,” Kamp says. It surprised and even annoyed her.

The Northwest grew on her, though. Now, big city folk seem rude. She never wanted to live in Moscow again.

“I did everything I could to stay,” Kamp says. She married an American. Though she says they tried to make it work, the five-year marriage ended last year.

But her business couldn’t be going better. It incorporated in July. Trieschmann bought in, and is now a partner.

Trieschmann met Kamp two years ago, when they were neighbors. “She’s a very strong person,” Trieschmann says. “She’s become a role model.”

“Omigod!” Kamp blurts. “You make me blush.”

Listening to her stories, it’s not tough to understand why some admire her.

Once, a 17-year-old girl was flown from Russia to Deaconess Medical Center for heart surgery. She didn’t speak English, and was drugged but conscious during the operation.

“She was so happy to see me,” Kamp remembers, a line of left-over worry creasing her forehead. “It was pretty emotional.”

Kamp clutched the frightened girl’s hand for hours. “When they cut her open I was there.”

That job was done for free.

Interpreting for patients is a big part of Language Assistance Bureau’s business. Penny Spencer, a scheduler with Family Medicine Spokane, says she uses the firm almost every day.

“Sometimes I can start as early as 6 o’clock in the morning,” Kamp says. “Sometimes I have to go in the middle of the night for a baby delivery.”

After witnessing her first birth, Kamp passed out. Now a veteran, she’s “delivered” a dozen.

With 70 translators working for her, Kamp could be tempted to take it easy. Instead, she still schedules appointments for herself all day. “I really get on pins and needles when I’m sitting in one place.”

It’s not a matter of being hyper. It’s survival. Others, too, vie for those state and medical contracts.

One competitor, the non-profit International Refugee Council of Spokane, has been around since 1988. The group also offers social services and job counselling, says its assistant coordinator Ying Moua.

Spokane International Translation and Language Services started up a year-and-a-half ago. Partner Marta Reyes-Lytle says the company specializes in medical translating and international business.

So for now, Kamp spends most of her time on the go. “Maybe someday it will be sitting on the beach in Florida,” she says with a dreamy look on her face.

Then she’ll get to see Disney World, too.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color photo