Ukraine Adopts New Drug Policy

The war on drugs is a major setback to those working within harm reduction and the public health sphere. While the concept of reducing drug use is nice in theory, the war on drugs has proven to be extremely ineffective in actually reducing this epidemic. Worldwide, drug use is criminalized on various levels, meaning that there is no regulation of substances, and those who use drugs do so in fear and without safe practices. As HIV, especially within Russia and much of Eastern Europe, is linked closely with drug use, strict criminalization of drugs and lack of effective harm reduction (i.e. methadone therapy, needle exchange, etc) not only increases the health risks of those using the drugs, but also the spouses and children within their lives. Socially significant diseases such as HIV, TB and hepatitis feed on the unsafe practices of drug users. As the history of the war on drugs has shown us, putting people in prison for using and dealing drugs is not an effective way to actually reduce drug use or to curb the diseases spread through it. What has been shown as effective are needle exchange centers, sterile drug injection sites and methadone therapy. While these methods are controversial, even among the former drug users whom I work with, it cannot be disputed that within the sphere of public health they are essential. 

Ukraine, a country plagued by drug use and the social diseases associated with it, recently changed its drug policy. The new policy is no longer about "combatting drugs" but rather "addressing drugs." While Russia is far off from adopting such a progressive stance, it is positive to see our neighbors using evidence-based methods to help people rather than wage an endless war with no hope of success.

Read more about the new policy: http://www.narkopolityka.pl/en

Nepal

I used to plan everything.

My first solo trip through Europe - every flight, connection, bus, hostel - all perfectly lined up. I’m sure I even had a daily itinerary of tourist activities planned out months in advance. At that time, planning was half of the excitement for me. The anticipation of where I would be and what I would be doing.

But something changed.

I specifically remember meeting a girl in Italy who had plans to travel for a year. When I asked her where she planned to travel, she nonchalantly said she wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know where she was going next week. She would meet people, get recommendations, and check the cheapest flights online. She would live this way for an entire year. It was something like modern society’s attempt at a nomadic lifestyle. It inspired me. It terrified me.

Perhaps it is disorganization, a lack of time, or the realization that I can’t control everything in my life – but I don’t plan like I used to. I’m no travelling nomad – but other than an arriving and departing plane ticket, my two weeks in Nepal was a virtual blank slate. And it was that lack of planning that brought me to the Tamang Village outside of Dulikhel, Nepal.

After a few days in Kathmandu, Lauren, Daniel and I decided we should get out of the city and do some trekking. While monsoon season brought with it warnings of washed out trails and the unpleasant prospect of leeches, we desperately wanted to escape the chaos of Kathmandu’s claustrophobic, dirty, yet colorful Thamel quarter. We pulled out the guidebook and started reading.

The plan: two days in Nagarkot – two days in Dulikhel. I sent a few emails and we left the following afternoon.

Hotel at the End of the Universe, Nagarkot.

Perched on the top of the mountain – there was little more than fresh air, dogs, a vast green expanse, and a small temple. Our two days were spent simply hiking, relaxing, eating, and bit of temple-side amateur yoga. We were out of the city and finally surrounded by that beloved Nepalese nature. We met school children on our hikes who daily trekked over five miles back and forth to school , we met leeches, we met breathtaking views of the Kathmandu valley.

Departing Nagarkot after two days, we set off on an ambitious 10+ mile hike that would bring us to our next town – Dulikhel. We had our backpacks and a hand-drawn map that I couldn’t make rhyme or reason of. I felt confident we would reach Dulikhel by dark. Perhaps serendipitously, only a short while after lunch, those seasonal monsoon rains began to fall. And they didn’t stop. We held out for an hour, then gave into the fact that we would have to take a taxi.

We were shuttled down the mountain, then promptly up another to find ourselves in Dulikhel. After asking several locals where our guesthouse was located, we began to drive out of the city and higher up the mountain. 15 minutes later we were in a place that could hardly be called a village, with no more than 7 small building lined along the dirt road. A whitewashed home with streams of colorful prayer flags stood in the center. This was our home-stay.

When I signed us up for a home-stay I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was thinking something like home cooked meals in a family-run guesthouse. What I didn’t quite realize was that we would be living with the family in their home, eating meals with them, and learning about their culture and daily life. My last minute decision to stay at the Tamang Family Home-stay wasn’t in error though. Just a few days with this family taught me that people across the world aren’t so different after all and that we struggle with many of the same issues – though in varied ways.

On a morning hike to a massive hilltop Buddha, led the husband of the Tamang family, we got to talking about many things, including my work. In general, most people were slightly confused by the fact that I am American, but I live in Russia and work as a volunteer intern for an NGO. But this man was no stranger to NGO work, especially that which related to health and women’s issues. He went on to tell me about how his family was involved in, and really the leaders of, several development projects within their small community. The first was established by his mother-in-law. An uneducated woman who had spent her entire life within this small agricultural community. She saw how everyday the women, regardless of age or health would work in the fields and sometimes even spend their days gathering wood in the forest. As they aged, this work was increasingly difficult, but it was their basic means of survival and couldn’t be avoided. The truth was though, that this was no way of life and something needed to change in their community. Despite a total lack of education, she decided to establish a women’s collective within her community. Together, the collective of women could support one another and develop alternative methods of income that would diversify their means of survival. Today, the collective has 100 members and are starting a small business where the women will make hand-made bags for sale in Kathmandu and abroad.

As a feminist and a hopeful gender studies MA student, seeing an uneducated woman from a small, rural and very traditional community identify a major need specific to women and to develop a solution to that problem which says that life as it is for women in this community is not enough is incredibly inspiring. In my own setting, within Russia, I can see that while women have education, they lack autonomy in their relationships with men. The consequences of this play out in many ways such as increased risk of HIV, domestic violence, and lack of support to develop themselves as individuals and within their careers. It goes on, but life for Russian women as it is today is also not adequate.

The homestay family is also working with international donors to establish a local clinic in the village and eventually an orphanage. A girl from the village is receiving medical training in London so that she can eventually return to Nepal to run the local clinic.

What I had imagined as no more than a home cooked meal and quaint guest house, was instead the sharing of cultures and the sharing of ideals. That someone from such a different context could devote their life to the promotion of women’s issues in a way similar to my own dedication made a people whose language, culture and standard of living are so different than mine, seem oddly familiar and comforting. It wasn’t my home for more than two days, but it could have been.