features - issue 87

AN IRON curtain of AIDS

positive nation

medical treatment here,” says Ilona.
And of course, there’s the heavy-handed approach of the former Soviet state towards people with HIV and drug users.

Needle exchanges used to be banned, and methadone treatment still is.
A programme of forcible HIV testing for arrested drug users, which in Soviet times led to Siberian exile for those with HIV, led to an extreme reluctance to seek help. Though the programme was stopped, HIV tests still signify state control and incarceration to many people.
More scary still, a recent UNICEF report forecast that five to eight million Russians and 1.5 million Ukraininans could have HIV by 2010, and noted that already up to one-third of prospective military conscripts in Russia are deemed unfit for service because of HIV and chronic hepatitis from drug use. The document concludes that HIV/Aids could become a real security threat.
Faith versus Futility
Russian first lady Ludmila Putina has been seen cuddling HIV positive babies in a Moscow hospice. The will may be there. But the money is not.
The real driving force behind the exploding drugs and HIV epidemic is the whole problem of attempting to live among the economic wreckage of the former Soviet Empire. Communism may not have earned dollars or respected liberty but it provided jobs, free basic healthcare, summer camps for bored teenagers. Youth unemployment in Ukraine now runs as high as 80 per cent. ‘No future’ isn’t just a statement of teenage rebellion here.
“If I take 10 of my friends, maybe two have a job,” says Marina Braga, aged 25. And she’s a graduate psychologist. Along with her colleague Natasha Dvinskiykh, they’re volunteering for six months at Crusaid in London as part of a youth exchange scheme. Fresh from college in Odessa, Marina joined a project at the Faith Hope Love Centre (FHL). FHL runs clean-needle projects in several locations.
Natasha works at another group called Charity - Blagodiynist in Ukrainian - in Nicolayev about 100 miles east of Odessa: “We get anything from 10-70 people in two hours at one of our harm-reduction centres...it’s mainly people in their late 20s and 30s. Not many very young people are coming yet. They don’t want to confess they’re ‘narkomen’. But they are aware the problem often starts with children as young as eight.
The projects are not ‘exchanges’ as such - no one will bring used needles back because they’re too

valuable. People sell clean needles for drugs or just for food. Natasha and Marina argue about whether this is a good thing. “Free supply at least means that a clean needle is now only worth

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