“Support means friends, professionals, and people who have walked this path”: an interview with Oleh Zaitsev, HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków

When we talk about forced migration, the word “adaptation” comes up a lot. But behind it are very specific things: electricity, internet, work, safety, the ability to stay useful, and to keep in touch with Ukraine. Oleh Zaitsev is the HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków and a two-time internally displaced person who has traveled the road from Luhansk to the Kyiv region and later to Poland. He has worked for many years in the social sector and in HIV services, and today he helps the Ukrainian community abroad navigate support systems and avoid being left alone with barriers.

We spoke with Oleh about two displacements, choosing Kraków, working during blackouts, barriers migrants face in Poland, and what matters most for someone who has just learned their HIV status.

— Oleh, could you briefly tell us where you’re from, how you ended up in Poland, when, and why Kraków?
— First of all, I’ve been an IDP twice. I’m originally from Luhansk, so this is my second displacement.
I came to Poland at the end of 2022—during the first major blackouts in Ukraine. I was living near Kyiv and working on Ukrainian contracts. When the power went out, mobile service and the internet went out with it—basically everything. And with a private house, if there’s no electricity, there’s no heating, water, or sewage either. I had to keep working, and that became the key reason for moving.
Why Kraków? Because it’s the closest large city to Ukraine. I often needed to travel to Ukraine for work, and in 2022 the connections weren’t as well organized yet. Warsaw is far, while Kraków was the best logistical choice.

— You mentioned you’ve been displaced twice. How did your first internal displacement happen?
— It happened gradually. Back in 2013, I started traveling, looking around, searching for work in Kyiv. And in 2014, when everything became clear, the decision was finalized: I would live in territory controlled by Ukraine. That’s when I made the final move to Kyiv.
That was also when I began working in HIV services.

— Did you have experience in the civic sector before that?
— Yes. My first experience in NGOs was back in 2004—at a Luhansk regional children’s community organization. Then came another major chapter: I worked in children’s camps for more than 10 years, and for six years I worked at a school.

— In what role?
— A school activities coordinator. Today they’d call it an event manager. (smiles)

— When you moved to Kraków, how did adaptation go? What surprised you?
— The move came with a feeling of “temporariness.” We agreed with the landlady on a six-month lease—and throughout that time we lived with the thought: “tomorrow we pack up and go home.” Because of that, I didn’t learn the language, and I didn’t build long-term plans—as if you’re not really here, just “on pause.”

— At that time, were you still working with the NGO “100% Life”?
— Yes, I continued. But one project ended in June 2024. Then there was another one—related to supplying and distributing kits to healthcare facilities and residential institutions. That project ended on March 31, 2025.
After that, there was a pause, and now I have several projects in Ukraine—both humanitarian and social. In parallel, I’m developing my work here in Poland.

— Was there a period when you traveled a lot between Poland and Ukraine?
— Yes. In one of the projects, my task was to travel and check distribution points: how aid was stored and how it was distributed. In six months, I visited around ten regions—from Sumy to Volyn.
It was an exhausting rhythm: 28 days in Ukraine, then back to Poland, then 28 days in Ukraine again. At first it was manageable, but later you catch yourself waking up and not understanding where you are.

— You’ve worked in the social sector for a long time. Why work with key populations and HIV services specifically?
— In 2014, I was rather accidentally invited to try HIV services. I started as a social worker at a community center in Kyiv. Then it grew from there: training, new tasks, different roles. There was a period when I worked outside HIV services but still in NGOs—and later I returned, already in the central office of “100% Life.”
I like that it’s a broad field: development, advocacy, community work, many directions. And it’s always people—communication, new connections. Especially now, when we’ve been scattered across the world, that sense of network and mutual support is particularly valuable.

— From your experience: what barriers do migrants most often face in Poland, and how can they overcome them?
— In Poland, the key barriers are language and legislation. My advice is simple: look for organizations that understand the field and can guide you correctly. There are truly many organizations in Poland, and what’s important—information about HIV testing can even be seen in Ukrainian on public transport; there are announcements and voice messages. So “entry points” do exist—it’s important to use them.
If we talk about internal displacement within Ukraine, one of the first challenges is finding an infectious disease doctor in the city you arrive in. Plus access to medication and understanding where things are available, because the situation changes and it’s hard to “track” consistently.

— And what would you advise someone who has just learned their HIV status? How can they get through the acceptance stage?
— First, it’s important to remember: everyone reacts differently. But my basic recommendation is to reach out to a psychologist. And second, to find peer-support groups—the “peer-to-peer” community. Even if there is no psychologist, real people who live with it are a huge support.
It’s also important to have “your people” nearby—friends, loved ones, relatives who don’t dismiss you and aren’t afraid. Without support, it’s much harder to get through it.

— You raise the issue of stigma and prejudice. What do Ukrainians encounter in Poland?
— Sometimes it hurts to hear the narrative that “Ukrainians brought an epidemic.” It’s bitter, because in reality a lot depends on testing: if there’s little testing, there’s little detection. That’s how it works everywhere.
There’s another point: in Poland, testing isn’t always offered automatically—sometimes you have to insist and ask. Without that, the problem becomes “invisible,” and then myths and accusations are easily born.

— What are your professional and personal plans for the coming year?
— Professionally, I want to better understand how Poland’s healthcare system works, how the sector and foundations operate, and how rules and processes differ. I want to understand the system better so I can provide higher-quality consultations.
Personally, I want more stability and a clearer sense of “rooting” here. Right now, there’s a lot of mixed environments, different communities, many overlapping processes. And I want to be effective in my new role—as a consultant and as the HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

HelpNow HIV Poland

“I want people to know: it is possible to live a full life with HIV”  — an interview with Anastasiia — HelpNow HUB volunteer and regional representative in the Czech Republic

The war has forced many Ukrainians to start their lives from scratch — in new countries, cities, and roles. Anastasiia is a volunteer with the HelpNow HUB team and a regional representative in the Czech Republic. She lives in Prague with her son and speaks openly about the experience of forced displacement, adaptation, searching for stability, and about topics that are often silenced — living with HIV, self-stigma, and the need for up-to-date information and support.

— Anastasiia, could you tell us a bit about yourself? Where are you from, how long have you been in the Czech Republic, and where do you live now?

— We are from Ukraine, from the Donetsk region. I currently live in Prague with my child. We arrived in the Czech Republic in the summer of 2022. The first months were extremely difficult — both emotionally and in everyday life. I only spoke a little English, everything felt scary, and after the shelling my child became very anxious and was afraid to stay without me.

At first, we were sent to a dormitory in a small industrial town — the conditions were very hard and completely unsuitable for living with a child. Later, we had to move again and search on our own, because free housing involved long waiting times and rental prices were very high. Eventually, we moved to Prague, where I found better living conditions and finally a kindergarten for my son. In smaller, industrial towns this is a real problem.

— What was your path of adaptation like: work, childcare, everyday life?

— At first, I started learning Czech, and at the same time I found my first job — cleaning in a hotel. I often took my son with me because he couldn’t stay without me — he had strong anxiety, attachment issues, and fear. After completing Czech language courses, I still couldn’t find a job in my field, and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to continue like this for long — neither physically nor psychologically.

Later, I saved some money and decided to study manicure and pedicure. I worked in a salon for two years. And then everything began to fall apart. My husband and I divorced while living apart, my child experienced bullying at school, and at work it was very hard — from early morning until almost night, five to six days a week, while my son was often with a nanny. That’s when a deep reassessment of values happened. I decided to start everything from scratch.

— You often speak about responsibility and inner change. What was the turning point for you?

— War puts everything in its place very quickly. Illusions collapse instantly. You realize that material things are not the most important. Life and health are. I had a period when my health declined significantly — I was losing consciousness, completely exhausted. And then I clearly decided: I no longer want to live in a constant mode of running and fighting.

I started learning a lot — reading books, studying psychology, taking courses, working on self-development. And I came to the conclusion that I want to connect my life with helping people — because I know what it’s like to feel scared, ashamed, in pain, and to have no one who can calmly explain and support you. But the world will not hear us if we remain silent.

— You openly address the topic of HIV and the stigma around it. Why is this so important to you?

— Because it is still a taboo topic. So many people are afraid to speak. They hide, feel shame, think they will be hated or rejected. And this destroys people from the inside.

When I learned about my HIV status, I encountered specialists who were not very empathetic — I didn’t feel support or trust. There were situations where I was treated as if I were dangerous: distance, gloves, multiple masks. I would leave feeling like I was “different” or “dirty.”

That’s why I want to be the person who can say to someone else: “You are not alone. Everything will be okay. The most important thing is not to stay alone with this, not to remain silent when you need advice or answers, and not to make dangerous mistakes. There is always a solution.”

— You mentioned that there was a time when you stopped taking therapy. Why did you decide to talk about this?

— Because I know how it can end. At a certain point, I believed people who deny treatment and even the existence of HIV, and I stopped taking my therapy. After some time, I started getting seriously ill — one illness after another. I was hospitalized, and my test results were very poor. Only then did I return to therapy and slowly begin to recover.

It’s important for me to say this out loud not for “drama,” but to warn others so that someone doesn’t repeat this experience. Especially if a person has children and loved ones who depend on them. I personally know many people with very similar stories. I may not know “the perfect way,” but I know for sure: don’t do it like this. Because I lived through it myself.

— How are people living with HIV generally treated in the Czech Republic? Do you see a difference compared to Ukraine?

— For me, the difference is huge. At first, I was also afraid to go to a doctor in Prague, expecting the same experience as before. But here I saw a completely different approach: HIV is treated as a chronic condition that a person can live with while receiving treatment — similar to diabetes, for example.

I am very grateful to my infectious disease doctor — she is empathetic, professional, and I feel respected. And another important thing: here, much more attention is given to sharing up-to-date knowledge with patients, which many adults lack. We often live with outdated information from school — and that’s where fear and stigma come from.

— What kind of support do Ukrainians arriving in the Czech Republic need most, especially people living with HIV?

— First of all, clear navigation — knowing where to go. Not every city has an infectious disease specialist. In small towns, people often have to travel to Prague, and if therapy is running out, this becomes critical. It’s very important for people to know from the beginning in which city they can definitely get a doctor and treatment.

Second, housing. This is a painful issue for everyone, but especially for vulnerable groups. In Prague, there is a Czech organization that supports people living with HIV/AIDS, including temporary shelter and social support — Česká společnost AIDS pomoc. It’s not a permanent solution, but as a starting point, it can help a lot.

Third, psychological support and work with self-stigma. Many people arrive already traumatized — by war and by previous experiences. But here it is really possible to find free psychologists, language courses, and employment programs. The key is not to remain silent and not to isolate yourself.

— What would you say to someone who is afraid to seek help or feels ashamed of their status?

— I would say: don’t stop. If someone refused you, it doesn’t mean that you are “wrong” or undeserving. It means that you knocked on the wrong door. There will be another person, another organization, another specialist.

You need to move forward in small steps every day, reflect, and listen to your body — it never lies. And one more thing: don’t focus only on the negative. Yes, it exists. But if you consciously notice at least one good thing every day — in people or in circumstances — you slowly build your future in the right direction. When we change ourselves for the better, the world starts to attract similar things.

— Finally, a new year means new plans. What do you dream about most?

— I want to be happy. I want conscious, mature relationships and a family. I have deeply rethought my responsibility in relationships and I want partnership and mutual understanding, where two people “work together.”

I also want to grow professionally. I plan to study social work, I dream of becoming a psychologist and social activist. It is important for me not just to volunteer, but to help people systematically — those living with HIV and those going through difficult periods and needing support. I want to share modern knowledge so there will be less fear and stigma, and more respect and understanding.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

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