Food Parcels From U.S. Brighten Life in Moscow : Assistance: Project lets friends and relatives in America order packages of meat for delivery in the Russian capital.

A former political prisoner, several retirees, and the head engineer of a Siberian electric power station were among those who came to a storehouse in this city’s industrial north on Friday to pick up parcels of frozen chicken or sausage sent by American friends and relatives.

Russian emigres--worried about how the loved ones they left behind are surviving the economic shock treatment launched by President Boris N. Yeltsin--can now order a food parcel in America, and, a week later, their relative or friend can claim it in Moscow.

About 1,320 people have responded to advertisements for the “Friendship Parcels” in Russian-language newspapers and on radio in the Los Angeles and New York areas, said Peter Charow of the Chilewich Group, the American company that organized the project.

Two parcels are available: 11 pounds of frozen chicken legs for $20 and 11 pounds of sausages for $30.

Chilewich is making a profit from the project, said John Vannik, the company’s Moscow representative. But Simon Chilewich, company president, thought up the project primarily as a way to do something nice for the people of Russia. His company has done business in Moscow since the 1950s.

Smiles--a rarity in Moscow in the gloomy days of February--were the order of the day at the storehouse, decorated with cheery bumper stickers and posters reading: “Friendship Parcels.”

Yelena M. Naidich grinned ear-to-ear as she put her frozen chicken into a large bag.

“I won’t try to hide it, it has become very difficult to live on my pension,” said Naidich, 66, who received two parcels from her sister in Los Angeles. “These parcels will make a big difference.”

Vadim G. Zhukov, 64, a biologist, also got a package from a Los Angeles resident. Nadezhda Lubimov, who has lived in Los Angeles since just after World War II, sent him two packages of frozen chicken to divide between himself and her aged relatives.

“I’m terribly distressed about my loved ones in Russia,” Lubimov, 90, said in a telephone conversation from Los Angeles. “If you had family in Russia, you would be worried about them too. With the money they earn, they can hardly afford milk these days.”

For Zhukov and many of the other people picking up parcels, the food itself was not nearly as valuable as the sentiment. “I am very glad to have the food, but the fact that she thought of me means even more,” Zhukov said. “It’s so nice when someone remembers you.”

Lubimov was Zhukov’s mother’s close girlhood friend and, although he never met her, he found her address while going through some of his mother’s documents after the mother’s death three years ago. The two have corresponded since.

For decades, Soviet emigres in America were afraid to send so much as a letter to loved ones left behind, because hard-line leaders here considered the emigres traitors and punished their relatives and friends by association. But because of the reforms initiated by former Soviet President Mikhail S. Gorbachev, they began to feel free to renew ties with relatives living abroad.

Although people are now able to send things without worrying about repercussions, the postal service is far from dependable. “The last time my brother sent me something by mail, it came half a year later and it was all torn apart,” said Daniel G. Nisnevich, who was picking up a package from his brother in Denver. “This time, he just called a couple days ago to tell me a package was on the way, and I already have it.”

People came from as far away as Siberia to pick up the parcels. So far, Chilewich passes out parcels only in Moscow, although the company plans to open distribution centers in Kiev, the capital of Ukraine, and St. Petersburg, Russia’s second-largest city.

Milgrom G. Israel, head engineer at the electric power station in the large Siberian industrial city of Novosibirsk, received a package from a brother who moved to New York a year ago. “It was a very nice thought, but I think I can still get by without charity,” Israel said. “I’m able to support myself and my wife on my salary. I think my brother needs this more than I do.”

The recipients were delighted to learn that they could send messages back to the friends or relatives who had sent the food. Chilewich makes a photocopy of the recipient’s passport to prove to the donor that the food was received.

Alexei O. Smirnov, 41, sent a copy of a photograph of his 2-year-old daughter to the woman who sent him two parcels. A former political prisoner who heads the Helsinki Group human rights committee in Moscow, Smirnov received his parcels from the widow of famous Soviet dissident Gen. Pyotr Grigorenko.

Smirnov was not too shy to admit he could have bought a lot more food in Moscow for the $50 that the parcels cost Mrs. Grigorenko. “Of course it is nice to get this food, but the cash would have bought about 20 times more food here,” Smirnov said. “These days $50 is worth about 7,000 rubles. My monthly salary is only 500 rubles.”

The parcel recipients, in general, do not represent the poorest sector of society. But many said that since Yeltsin lifted price controls and subsidies Jan. 2, the salaries and pensions that used to seem generous now cannot pay for staples.

Although most of the people who send packages are emigres, one woman received a package from her 20-year-old daughter who has been visiting a friend in New York since before prices skyrocketed.

Nadezhda V. Barkova said her daughter, Maria, was so upset by what she saw on television about the food crisis at home that she sent two parcels to her mother.

“I told her I was doing OK and not to send anything, but she did it anyway,” Barkova said. “I’m so touched. It means so much to me.”