Philippines: New agreement seeks to remove healthcare barriers for overseas Filipino workers

The Department of Health (DOH) and the Department of Migrant Workers signed a Memorandum of Understanding for better healthcare access for overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) and their families during the 2026 Migrant Workers’ Health Summit in Quezon City on Tuesday.

“This reflects our shared commitment to improve coordination, strengthen our service delivery, and ensure that the health and well-being of Filipino migrant workers remain a national priority,” Health Secretary Ted Herbosa said during the summit.

“Migration creates opportunities for millions of Filipinos, but it also presents unique health challenges, including occupational risks, communicable diseases, mental health concerns, and barriers to accessing health services,” Herbosa added.

Migrant Workers Secretary Hans Leo Cacdac said OFWs deserve support not only when they are earning and sending money, but more so when they need help.

Herbosa noted that the DOH’s telemedicine services were meant to support the mental health of migrant workers.

“So our psychiatrists from the National Center for Mental Health provide online psychosocial support,” said Herbosa.

The two-day summit provides free medical services for migrant workers, including screening for hypertension, diabetes, cancer, tuberculosis, and HIV, as well as nutrition assessments.

Filipino tourists heading to Oman no longer need to present a negative HIV medical certificate

Oman drops HIV test requirement for Filipino visa-free travelers after Manila’s diplomatic push

Filipino tourists heading to Oman under the country’s 14-day visa-free arrangement no longer need to present a negative HIV medical certificate before boarding their flights, the Philippine Department of Foreign Affairs announced Monday, closing a two-month diplomatic row that disrupted travel and drew widespread condemnation.

The Omani government’s decision to waive the requirement marks a significant turnaround from a policy that had quietly taken effect on 1 March 2026, with no formal public announcement from either Muscat or the carriers enforcing it at check-in counters. The rule first came to broad attention through traveler accounts shared on community pages serving Filipinos in Oman — accounts that The Global Filipino Magazine was among the first to report on in the weeks that followed.

The controversy deepened when Oman Air’s own website displayed the policy under a prominent homepage banner titled “New Travel Requirement for Philippine Nationals Traveling to Oman,” with a linked circular informing trade partners that a pre-arrival HIV test bearing a QR code from an accredited clinic was mandatory for all adult Filipino nationals, “regardless of their country of departure” — a scope that went beyond visa-free tourists to include Filipinos living and working across GCC countries.

That circular stood in tension with the position offered by the Omani Embassy in Manila when the DFA formally intervened on April 17. The embassy told Philippine officials that the HIV certificate requirement applied exclusively to tourists using the visa-free entry program — not to Filipinos holding valid Omani work visas. “The HIV certificate applies only to tourists availing of the visa-free entry to Oman, and not to those who were issued work visas,” the DFA said, relaying the embassy’s clarification.

At the time, the DFA said it had made “strong representations” with the Omani Embassy seeking the removal of the policy. “The Department of Foreign Affairs has made strong representations with the Oman Embassy in Manila for the removal of the negative HIV medical certificate requirement for all Filipino travellers to Oman,” the department said in a statement. It added that the embassy had confirmed the matter was being reviewed at the government level, with talks scheduled to deliberate on revisions.

The Philippines and Oman have maintained diplomatic ties since 1980, with labor mobility at the core of the relationship. An estimated 45,000 to over 50,000 Filipinos live and work in the Gulf state across sectors including healthcare, hospitality, engineering, and domestic work. Oman had only recently expanded bilateral goodwill by extending visa-free entry to Filipino nationals — a policy that made the HIV testing requirement, applied uniquely to Filipinos, all the more jarring to critics who viewed it as discriminatory.

The DFA expressed appreciation to Muscat for the policy reversal, describing it as a reflection of the strong ties between the two nations. Travelers have been advised to continue complying with all other entry requirements set by Omani authorities.

National Health Insurance Act could deny refugees, asylum seekers and undocumented migrants HIV treatment

South Africa’s NHI Act Risks Fueling Anti-Immigrant Sentiment by Restricting HIV Treatment

Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi defends the controversial Section 33, drawing criticism that the policy could deny life-saving care to asylum seekers and undocumented migrants.

As violent xenophobic protests demanding the mass expulsion of foreign nationals sweep across South Africa, a highly contentious legislative battle regarding the National Health Insurance (NHI) Act is threatening to compound the crisis. Public health advocates are sounding the alarm over specific clauses embedded within the sweeping healthcare reform that could legally strip refugees, asylum seekers, and undocumented migrants of access to life-saving HIV treatments.

The controversy places Health Minister Dr. Aaron Motsoaledi at the center of a profound ethical and epidemiological dilemma. While the administration champions the NHI as the ultimate equalizer for South Africa’s deeply fractured healthcare system, the deliberate exclusion of vulnerable migrant populations risks triggering a devastating public health catastrophe. The resulting policy friction threatens to not only derail the nation’s world-leading antiretroviral program but also validate the very anti-immigrant rhetoric currently destabilizing the nation.

What Exactly Does Section 33 Entail?

The architectural core of the controversy lies within Section 33 of the NHI Act. The legislation mandates the effective abolition of private medical aids in their current form, relegating them to merely providing top-up coverage for services not subsidized by the state fund. The economic logic is clear: re-route the massive capital currently spent by the wealthy on private medical schemes (representing 15% of the population) into a centralized, universal pool to serve the remaining 85%.

However, the eligibility criteria for this universal pool are rigidly nationalistic. The state’s Health Patient Registration System (HPRS) is designed to integrate strictly with Department of Home Affairs databases. South African citizens, documented permanent residents, and formally recognized refugees will be integrated. Conversely, undocumented migrants and asylum seekers trapped in South Africa’s notoriously backlogged immigration system will be categorically excluded from comprehensive coverage.

Critics point to a damning Treasury letter from acting Director-General Ismail Momoniat, which warned that the legislation is aggressively “unfriendly” to asylum seekers, noting that “even children [are] not entitled to hospital care unless in an emergency.”

How Will This Affect Asylum Seekers and Refugees?

The immediate casualty of this legislative exclusion is infectious disease management, primarily HIV/AIDS and tuberculosis. South Africa currently operates the largest antiretroviral therapy (ART) program in the world, a colossal effort requiring unbroken adherence to prevent viral mutation and community transmission.

If the NHI Act proceeds unaltered, undocumented migrants and pending asylum seekers who currently rely on state clinics for their daily ART regimens will be severed from the supply chain. Public health experts at the Centre for the AIDS Programme of Research in South Africa (CAPRISA) warn that denying treatment based on citizenship status will inevitably lead to massive spikes in viral loads among migrant communities. This policy approach essentially weaponizes the healthcare system, transforming clinics into immigration checkpoints.

Minister Motsoaledi has publicly acknowledged this epidemiological paradox, admitting in interviews that denying infectious disease care to any demographic “works in reverse” regarding national health security. A virus does not recognize border control or passport stamps; unchecked transmission within migrant communities will inevitably spill over into the broader South African populace.

Why Is the Health Minister Standing Firm?

Despite the dire warnings regarding both the collapse of private medical aids and the exclusion of migrants, Dr. Motsoaledi remains unyielding on the foundational architecture of the NHI. In a recent broadcast interview, he declared that Section 33 will not be scrapped, even if it triggers the collapse of the fragile Government of National Unity (GNU).

“You can’t come and tell me ‘I support this universal coverage, but Section 33 must go.’ It’s like supporting a house, but the foundation must go. Don’t you know it’s going to collapse?” Motsoaledi stated. He maintains that preserving the private medical aid sector would perpetuate the apartheid-era inequalities that the NHI was explicitly designed to eradicate.

However, regarding the specific exclusion of migrants, the Minister has signaled a slight pragmatic retreat. He indicated a willingness to adapt regulatory frameworks to ensure that vital interventions—such as HIV treatment, maternal care, and emergency disease surveillance—remain accessible to all populations, regardless of documentation. Yet, without formal amendments to the Act itself, these assurances remain dangerously reliant on ministerial discretion rather than entrenched legal rights.

Are There Parallels in East Africa’s Universal Health Rollouts?

The tension between national healthcare funding and immigrant access is a challenge actively playing out across the continent. In Kenya, the ongoing transition from the National Health Insurance Fund (NHIF) to the Social Health Insurance Fund (SHIF) has sparked similar debates regarding the integration of East African Community (EAC) citizens and the massive refugee populations residing in Dadaab and Kakuma camps.

Unlike South Africa, Kenya’s public health framework heavily relies on international donor partnerships—specifically the UNHCR and global health NGOs—to parallel-fund migrant healthcare, preventing the state treasury from absorbing the entire fiscal burden. Similarly, the United Kingdom’s NHS imposes an immigration health surcharge on visa applicants, creating a financial gateway rather than an outright prohibition on care.

For Pretoria, the path forward is fraught with legal peril. As civil rights organizations prepare constitutional challenges against the NHI Act, the Constitutional Court will ultimately determine if the right to life and basic healthcare supersedes the boundaries of citizenship. Until then, millions of undocumented individuals remain trapped between violent vigilantes on the streets and a healthcare system preparing to close its doors.

Philippine: New plan aims to give HIV-positive Filipino workers abroad easier access to care

Filipino migrant workers living with HIV stand to gain clearer pathways to care and firmer protections under a policy framework that government and international partners began shaping at a roundtable in Manila this week.

The discussion took place on June 15, 2026, at the Department of Migrant Workers (DMW) Central Office. Convened by the DMW together with the Philippine National AIDS Council (PNAC), the gathering drew in other government bodies, civil society groups, and the International Organization for Migration (IOM). Their shared task was to map out how the state can better serve overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) who are coping with HIV while abroad.

At the heart of the talks were the persistent gaps in HIV programs that leave migrant workers without dependable support once they leave the country. The proposed framework is meant to address those weak points, giving affected workers more responsive treatment and a defined route to assistance at every stage of their time overseas. Participants laid out specific policy directions and recommendations geared toward letting workers seek help without shame or hesitation.

A recurring theme during the roundtable was accountability across agencies. Those present argued that without stronger coordination between the offices responsible for migrant welfare, workers living with HIV will continue to struggle to reach the services they are entitled to. The aim, stakeholders said, is to surround these workers with a community of care while safeguarding their rights and overall welfare.

The Philippine response to HIV and AIDS is anchored in Republic Act 11166, the law that reconstituted PNAC and tasked it with steering the country’s prevention and treatment efforts. The council operates as the central planning and policy body on HIV, drawing its membership from national agencies, civil society, and the community of people living with HIV.

For the DMW, the initiative fits within a broader push to ensure that policies serving OFWs account for their health and dignity, not only their employment. The framework discussed this week signals that workers managing a chronic condition far from home remain part of that mandate.

India: Inside India’s highest-migration corridor, HIV treatment follows an uncertain path

For Migrant Workers With HIV, Staying on Treatment Takes More Than Just Medicine

A ground report from the Ganjam-Surat corridor, where migrants with HIV navigate long shifts, travel, and stigma.

When he travelled from Surat back to his village in Odisha’s Ganjam district five years ago for some work, he carried a month’s stock of his daily HIV medicines. But the visit stretched longer than expected. The medicines ran out.

At the time, he did not think much of it. But when he returned to Surat three months later, where he worked in the textile industry, filling and replacing thread bobbins for weaving machines, his body began weakening again.

The work was difficult even otherwise: 12-hour daily shifts inside a room with barely any fans or ventilations, just heat and the constant roar of machines. With a weakened immunity, he couldn’t keep up. Soon, he got jaundice too. It’s not like medicines weren’t available in Odisha. But the hospital was around 80 kilometres away from his house, and Jyotesh had not carried his transfer papers.

“We’re all going to Ganjam for a wedding next week. This time, I have carried medicines worth two months,” he says in late April this year, placing the medicine bottle on the orange-and-blue chattai in his rented house in Surat. Next to it lies a stack of green medical documents carrying his treatment history since his diagnosis. One of the corners has been chewed through—”a rat bit it”, he says with a smile.

The 41-year-old discovered he and his wife were HIV positive in 2010, when she was pregnant with her first child. By then, he had already spent two decades moving between Ganjam and Surat. His three children don’t have HIV but their lives are still shaped by it: Jyotesh and his wife make sure they don’t eat on the same plate as their kids or share food, and are careful around cuts and wounds. “I know it doesn’t spread that way,” he says. “But in my head, I just want to be careful.”

India’s HIV programme provides free antiretroviral therapy (ART) through government-run ART centres across the country. In theory, a person can access treatment in any part of the country. But in practice, for lakhs of migrant workers like Jyotesh, continuity of treatment is shaped as much by access to medicines as it is by train journeys between villages and work destinations, the informal nature of work, fear of disclosure, crowded housing, changing shifts, interrupted treatment, missed doses, temporary addresses, and constant calculations.

Nowhere is that challenge more visible than in the Ganjam-Surat migration corridor, which sees large-scale movement to the city’s textile hubs.

The National AIDS Control Organisation (NACO) identifies interstate migrant workers as “bridge population” for HIV, due to the social and work environment that increases their vulnerability to infection. The term refers to the role migration can play in linking different communities. Studies cited by NACO have found that in high-migration districts like Ganjam, migrant men were up to four times more likely to be living with HIV than non-migrant men in the same districts.

The Quint tracked migrant workers living with HIV on the Ganjam to Surat corridor to investigate how they live with the constant risk of becoming “lost to follow up.”

BETWEEN THE LOOM AND THE PILL

The sound of the loom never really leaves you in Surat.

A few lanes away from where Jyotesh rents his room, Ranjan*, a textile worker from Ganjam, who has been living with HIV for the past three years, rides his cycle towards the noise after his lunch break on a blazing April afternoon. He stops his cycle in a lane where every building looks like the other. If the sound of the loom sounded like a distant train earlier, now it feels like he is at the railway station.

Three floors up, inside the weaving unit, he starts the 12 machines, one by one. As soon as he is done starting all, the first one shuts again. The process repeats itself for 12 hours, every day. Thread becomes fabric and sweat becomes a hard day’s money.

He is used to it all, now. The noise, the hours, even, to an extent, the heat. What he is not used to is the HIV pill he must take at 9 pm every night, which, he says, makes him sleepy. So for 14 days a month, when his shift changes from day to night, he faces a dilemma: to skip the HIV medicine or to risk the chance of falling asleep at work.

“For 14 days, I take the medicines. For the other 14 days, I don’t,” he says, matter-of-factly. “They make me sleepy and if I fall asleep, I’ll get into trouble. Twice I slept and my seth (boss) yelled at me. I couldn’t even tell him what the medicine was for.”

It is medically recommended to have the medicines every day at the same time — generally after a meal — to ensure that the virus stays suppressed. Repeated interruptions can risk increasing the viral load and weakening immunity. Healthcare workers generally prescribe it for night time after dinner, so that it doesn’t interrupt work day and the minimal side effects can be managed. They encourage patients to discuss the schedules with them before changing the timing on their own, but Ranjan has not had the time to do that yet.

He was asymptomatic when he was diagnosed five years ago along with his wife, during her pregnancy. His family lives in Ganjam; he moves between the two places whenever he can. He has just returned from a few months in Tamil Nadu, where he was trying to work in the fibre industry.

“I did not understand the language or culture there, so I came back here. Surat has so many people from my village now that it has become another Ganjam only,” he says. “But the heat has become so bad these days, the hot air from the machine blows like fire.”

He says he will ask the doctor in the next visit if he can eat his medicines in the morning instead of at night. “I know I should be eating them regularly, but what can I do? I can’t risk it. I’m here to earn.”

INSIDE THE ART CENTRE

For people living with HIV, the ART centre is their lifeline. It’s where they get their medicines every month, consult with doctors and counsellors, monitor their viral load, and, crucially for migrants, get their transfer letters issued to access medicines from another ART centre, whenever they move.

When The Quint visited one such centre in Surat, the two doctors’ desks were stacked with transfer letters to sign: transfer-ins and transfer-outs.

“We have around 30-40 transfers per centre every month. It’s a bit more in Surat than other cities as there are more migrants here,” said one of the doctors. There are three ART centres in Surat, which means roughly a hundred transfers moving through the city’s system every month.

Inside the counsellor’s clinic, patient after patient, a similar pattern plays out. Patients place medicine bottles on the table while the counsellor asks how many pills are left. The bottle is either empty or far too full. Both mean the same thing: doses missed. In almost every case The Quint witnessed, the reason was the same: Was in my village. Medicines ran out/could not be had.

“The main problem is adherence,” says Laxmi Parmar, one of the counsellors in the centre, while making notes in her file.

India’s HIV programme now allows multi-month dispensing for stable patients, meaning medicines can be provided for more than one month at a time. Counsellors routinely ask workers about upcoming travel plans before deciding how much medication to dispense.

“For us, the main difference between migrants and locals is that migrants don’t usually stay in one place,” said the doctor, who did not want to be named. “They keep moving, so for them to continue this life long treatment is more difficult. They require a lot more counselling. If they go back to the village for a long time, they have to be transferred there so they can get medicines from there.”

In the last two months, migrant workers across states in India, including Surat, have moved back to their villages in large numbers due to the ongoing gas crisis in India, driven by the West Asia conflict. Prices for cooking gas have risen sharply and it has hit migrant workers hardest, who very often don’t have documents for residence proof in the cities they work in, and cannot access subsidised supplies.

MIGRATION AS TRADITION

For over a century, migration has shaped life in Odisha’s Ganjam district.

Migration runs so deep in this coastal district, that people often joke that every household in Ganjam has at least one person working in Surat. Researchers trace the roots of migration in the region to the Na’Anka famine of 1866, which wiped out almost one-third of the state’s population.

It was initially limited to the northern states, like Uttar Pradesh and Jammu & Kashmir, but shifted to West Bengal after Independence due to the language, food, and cultural similarities and conveniences. Majority of Ganjam’s migrants worked in the jute mills here, and some in coal mines in present-day Jharkhand. Since they could not go to Southern states due to the language barriers, they began going to Mumbai and the industrial areas of Gujarat. Mumbai’s labour politics made the city less accessible and Surat became the destination.

Over time, farmers became textile workers, and it became a skill that was inherited by generations.

“Migration first became a livelihood for survival and then tradition for the people of Odisha and the rural infrastructure completely changed because of it,”said Lokanath Mishra, co-founder of Association for Rural Upliftment and National Allegiance (ARUNA) NGO, which was started in Odisha in the 1990s to prevent HIV transmission among migrant populations.

“There are trains that are filled with migrant workers everyday, mostly to work in the textile industry,” he said.

Ganjam features among the 17 districts with the highest male out-migration across state borders in India, according to the Working Group on Migration report, published by the then Ministry of Housing and Urban Poverty Alleviation in 2017. While there is no official data available, experts and field workers estimate that there are at least fifteen lakh migrants from Ganjam in Surat, forming a bulk of the labourers for the textile industries.

The same migration corridor also, over decades, has shaped the district’s HIV epidemic. Ganjam currently ranks eighth among India’s AIDS-prone districts, and has consistently figured in the top ten list.

“In Ganjam, migration is circular. Young boys leave home from the age of 13 or 14. They travel alone, live in crowded rooms, earn cash wages, and stay away from families for long periods. This increases the likelihood of seeking new partners or transactional sex. Services exist across state boundaries. But many migrants only begin treatment after returning home. The asymptomatic period is very dangerous because people feel fine and delay care. The gap between people living with HIV and people currently in treatment is severe. The challenge with the system is that migration is difficult to track. People keep moving.”

Lokhanth Mishra, founder of ARUNA NGO

Mishra estimates that of roughly 19,000 people believed to be living with HIV in Ganjam, only around 7,000 are currently under treatment.

A study by the Population Council in 2011, conducted in collaboration with NACO and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), made some relevant findings:

In Odisha, 43 percent of all HIV-infected persons in Odisha were from Ganjam alone.
HIV prevalence was four times higher among migrants than non-migrant men, even after controlling for age, education, source of referral and other possible confounding factors.
The likelihood of being HIV-positive for returned migrants compared to non-migrants was over sevenfold.
Migrant men were up to eight times more likely to be living with HIV than non-migrant men in Ganjam district.
Selected indicators of socioeconomic vulnerability such as literacy, agricultural land/property ownership and employment were associated with HIV infection.

The latest data from Odisha’s National AIDS Control Programme shows that a cumulative 66,121 HIV-positive cases have been identified in the state.

A senior official from the Odisha State AIDS Control Society told The Quint that the overall HIV caseload in the state had remained relatively stable in recent years.

“Even if the numbers appear high, that is partly because more people are getting tested and diagnosed earlier, instead of remaining undetected for long periods,” the official said, requesting anonymity. “Ganjam remains a priority district because of its long history and scale of out-migration. We conduct awareness and testing activities around festive seasons when many workers return home. There are outreach camps, nukkad nataks (street plays), messages at billboards and behind tickets. But because people keep moving states and change phone numbers, preventing patients from becoming lost to follow up remains a big challenge.”

LOST TO FOLLOW UP

Inside ART centres, NGOs, and healthcare systems, there’s a term routinely used: ‘LTFU’, which stands for Lost to Follow Up. It is used in medical forms and discussions to describe patients who stop returning for treatment.

“Sometimes, migrants say they are going to their villages for two months but if they don’t come back for medicine refills by then, we contact them,” said a doctor at the ART centre. “If we manage to speak with them, we remind them to visit the nearest ART centre. If we can’t get in touch, we contact the NGOs in the village to reach them.”

But a lot of times, ‘LTFU’ happens simply because people living with HIV— migrants or not—have a hard time to accept the diagnosis, or to manage medicines alongside work, or to keep it hidden. Sometimes, especially when asymptomatic, they believe they can simply outlast it without treatment. Outreach workers are tasked with tracing them.

The Quint accompanied Bhadraben, an outreach worker with the Gujarat State Network of People Living with HIV/AIDS (GSNP+), a community organisation supporting people living with HIV, on one such follow-up visit. As we walked through narrow lanes towards a colony where several clients lived, she said to put away the notebook and pen so as not to alert anyone to the nature of the visit.

“Migrants usually stay in crowded colonies. They give an address but it’s not complete or it’s vague. A house has several rooms and several people in one room. We go to find them, and if we can’t get through on the phone, we have to ask neighbours for them by name. People get curious and ask why we are looking. We have to lie and say we are from LIC, or a bank, so as to not disclose, because in most cases no one else knows about the diagnosis.”

Bhadraben, outreach worker

Some patients, she says, give wrong phone numbers and addresses altogether.

Dr V Sam Prasad, Country Programme Director at AHF-AIDS Healthcare Foundation, acknowledged that one of the biggest challenges in HIV care among migrant populations is retention.

“The first challenge is that we tend to lose people after identifying them,” he says. “People are not keen on getting treatment in unfamiliar cities. The current system requires manually getting a transfer letter to access medicines in another city. That needs to change. Even if someone has no art centre in the vicinity, if they want to access meds, local medical stores should be able to get it. The behavioural change will be immediate.”

STIGMA, DISCLOSURE, AND WHAT CITIES OFFER

Ever since he was diagnosed less than six months ago, Ashok* has been consumed with anxieties and fears. What if someone finds out in my village? What if someone finds out here? Will my condition get better? What vegetables can I eat? What if the one ASHA didi who knows tells someone? Will my child eventually get it too? Will my life ever be the same?

The anxieties of the diagnosis sit visibly on him, along with exhaustion of the night shift.

“Only my wife, me, and the ASHA didi know. Parents don’t keep well and don’t want to worry them more. I used to feel weak and uneasy but since I have started taking medicines it’s better. I just can’t stop overthinking,” he says, speaking softly so as to not be overheard in the temple compound where we sit.

He started his treatment in Ganjam and is now in Surat for two months, where he has worked as a textile worker for the last 10 years.

“The centre closest to my village is 50 kilometres away in Bharampur. I go by bus or bike but it takes almost the whole day to get medicines. There is also always a huge line. I prefer it here, the centre is a fifteen-minute walk from my house,” he says, turning his bicycle keys over in his hands.

The calculations that he has just begun to make have been Pooja’s* reality for over a decade, accompanied by something else: guilt.

A migrant from Odisha, she found out she was HIV positive during her second pregnancy, tested at a government hospital in Surat. She had been married once before when she was very young; she suspects her first husband had the virus though she never knew for certain and he died soon after. Her second husband was diagnosed alongside her, followed by her daughter and son.

“My son does not know what medicine I gave him every night. He keeps asking, and I keep deflecting. I tell him it’s for strength.”

Pooja

Her daughter, she says, used to blame her for it and ask her why she hadn’t killed her rather than giving her this. Her husband initially blamed her too. For about twelve years, she balanced HIV treatment, an abusive household, and work – sticking diamond stones onto sarees.

“If I didn’t find time to finish it in the day, I would complete it at night,” she says.

Her worst fears came true in 2019 when her then-landlord found out about her diagnosis and kicked them out of the house. According to her, the information was given to him by someone from the medical community who had treated her. Her husband was severely ill with TB at the time and could not be moved back to Ganjam easily. They rented a one-bedroom apartment for fifteen days, till he got a bit better, and returned to Ganjam for a few months after that.

“I usually go once every few months to collect medicines for my full family. Our vitals are good so they give for a few months,” she says. “It’s so much better to do that here rather than in Ganjam. Even though the hospital is far away and I go secretly, people come to know. They wonder, Kiski bahu hai? Kiske liye dawai le rahi hai? (Whose daughter-in-law is she? Who is she taking these medicines for?) So I don’t go to get medicines when I’m there, I have to make sure I come back before my medicines get over. No one knows where you’re coming from and where you’re going, here.”

BEYOND MEDICINES

“HIV is complex and when you add migration to it, it’s another challenge,” says Daxa Patel, co-founder and Project Director of GSNP+.

Patel says that one of the initial challenges is disclosure, especially when the partner is staying away. Government guidelines mandate that once you are diagnosed, your partner should be tested too.

“We try to get the testing done when they go back to their villages but it doesn’t always happen as they often don’t disclose it to their families. If they are unmarried, then even index 2 testing should happen, which means all their sexual partners, which is yet another challenge,” she says.

According to her, conversations around condoms or safe sex can themselves trigger suspicion inside marriages where the diagnosis has not been disclosed.

“Along with medicines, nutrition, mental health, housing conditions, and healthcare all affect treatment. Even family support is of utmost importance. In Surat, migrants often stay in rooms which are shared between a large number of people who alternate sleeping in the room as per their shifts. Immunity is already compromised. Crowded living increases chances of airborne infections and co-morbidities.”

Daxa Patel, co-founder and Project Director of GSNP+

NACO continues to list migrant workers as a bridge population who are vulnerable to HIV and require Targeted Interventions (TI) for HIV prevention and care. Jogendra Upadhyay, at the Gujarat AIDS awareness and Prevention (GAP) unit, has held HIV awareness sessions and testing drives and camps in Gujarat in collaboration with NACO and International Labour Organisation.

Between 2021 and 2025, they ran testing camps across 48 workplaces in eight districts of Gujarat, reaching 48,000 workers. 138 people were found positive.

“93 percent of whom were being tested for HIV for the first time in their lives. What’s interesting is that over 90 percent of them were asymptomatic. After their test results, we link them to the nearest government centre,” he tells The Quint. “It’s such a big, unorganised sector that reaching everyone is difficult.”

LEARNING TO LIVE WITH IT

Some of the Ganjam migrants who arrived decades ago have figured out how to live, and work, with HIV in a different city; the alarm clock on their phone is their best friend.

Akka has been in Surat for 40 years and has watched it transform from a small town to an industrial hub. She is part of the transgender community, that NACO recognises as high risk, and among roughly a thousand hijras from Ganjam now living in Surat.

“I used to take medicines from a private practice for the first 6-7 years after diagnosis, before switching to the government. For a few years, I used to keep going back to Odisha to collect my medicines every two-three years before I finally transferred to Surat.”

She is different from most of the people who spoke to The Quint in one significant way. “I don’t hide that I have HIV,” she says. “I tell people. Why should I lie?”

The virus has worn Shivsagar* down differently. He has lived and worked with it for twenty years, but now he can only do the former. He came to Surat three decades ago to work in textile factories and now runs a small food stall near his house.

“I could lift 100 kilos earlier and now I struggle with 20. I don’t have too much strength anymore and my legs give me trouble. I think I will return back to my village soon” he says, sitting in his one-room apartment with his wife Laxmi, whose yellow saree matches the bandhani cloth hanging in the room.

Through the walls, you can hear the loom from the mill next door. They have lived here for fifteen years, yet, nobody knows about their positive status. During the lockdown, he was stranded in his village without medicines and documents. Now, he carries stock whenever he goes.

But he wishes he didn’t have to.

“I heard injections are coming now instead of daily tablets,” he says, speaking of Lenacapavir, the world’s first twice-yearly HIV injection that has recently launched and has sparked questions and hope among many living with HIV. “When will that happen? Will I be allowed to take it? I’m tired of carrying medicines and documents everywhere.”

*All names of people living with HIV have been changed to protect privacy.

(This content received support from the Thomson Reuters Foundation as part of its global programme aiming to strengthen free, fair and informed societies. Any financial assistance or support provided to the journalist has no editorial influence. The content of this article belongs solely to the author and is not endorsed by or associated with the Thomson Reuters Foundation, Thomson Reuters, Reuters, nor any other affiliates)

Russia: Foreigners to undergo medical examination within 30 days of entering Russia.

The Council of Federation approved the law on mandatory medical examination of migrants

Translated with Deepl. Scroll down for original article in Russian

On 3 June 2026, the Federation Council approved a law requiring foreign nationals to undergo a medical examination within 30 days of their arrival in the Russian Federation.

The procedure includes testing for HIV, infectious diseases posing a danger to others, and the use of psychoactive substances without a doctor’s prescription.

The costs of the examinations are to be borne by the foreign nationals themselves or by their employers. The examinations will be carried out only by authorised medical organisations, the list of which will be approved by regional governors. Medical institutions are prohibited from delegating their powers to conduct examinations and issue reports to third parties.

The results of the examinations will be recorded electronically and sent to the federal register within 24 hours. The data will be automatically forwarded to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Rospotrebnadzor via the inter-agency cooperation system.

A similar procedure for notifying the authorities will apply if dangerous diseases or evidence of drug use are detected during the provision of any other medical care.

The law will come into force on 1 September 2026.

3 июня 2026 года Совет Федерации утвердил закон, который обязывает иностранных граждан проходить медосвидетельствование в течение 30 суток со дня прибытия в РФ.

Процедура включает проверку на ВИЧ-инфекцию, инфекционные заболевания, представляющие опасность для окружающих, а также на употребление психоактивных веществ без назначения врача.

Расходы на проведение осмотров ложатся на самих иностранцев либо на их работодателей. Обследования будут проводить только уполномоченные медицинские организации, перечень которых утвердят главы регионов. При этом медучреждениям запрещено передавать свои полномочия по проведению осмотров и оформлению заключений третьим лицам.

Результаты обследований будут формироваться в электронном виде и в течение 24 часов направляться в федеральный реестр. Данные автоматически передадут в МВД и Роспотребнадзор через систему межведомственного взаимодействия.

Аналогичный порядок информирования ведомств будет действовать, если опасные заболевания или факты употребления наркотиков выявят при оказании любой другой медпомощи.

Закон вступит в силу с 1 сентября 2026 года.

Europe’s HIV response cannot succeed without migrant health equity

Europe debates migration, but ignores migrant health

By Tamara Prinsenberg & Daniel Reijer – AHF Europe

Migration dominates political debate across the continent. Governments argue about borders, asylum systems, returns, integration, and security. Election campaigns are built around it. Entire ministries are dedicated to it. Yet one issue remains largely absent: access to healthcare.

This is no marginal issue. Many migrants in Europe still struggle to access even the most basic HIV and STI services.

At AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) Europe, we work with migrants, refugees, undocumented people, labour migrants, international students, and other vulnerable communities across several European countries.

Every day, our teams and partners provide frontline HIV and STI services designed to reach people who would otherwise be excluded. Many of these services are multilingual, community based, anonymous, and specifically designed to reduce fear and stigma. In 2025, AHF Europe provided HIV prevention, testing and linkage-to-care services to more than 28,000 migrants.

For many migrants, accessing healthcare in Europe is far from straightforward. Some do not understand the language used in clinics or hospitals. Others are unsure whether they are legally entitled to care. Some fear that seeking healthcare could negatively affect their migration status. Others simply do not know where services exist or how to navigate an healthcare system that can already be difficult for citizens themselves.

From a public health perspective, this simply makes no sense. Viruses do not care about residency permits or asylum procedures. HIV does not distinguish between documented and undocumented people. If people are pushed away from prevention, testing, and treatment services, infections are diagnosed later, transmission risks increase, and healthcare systems ultimately face higher costs.

Excluding migrants from healthcare does not protect public health; it undermines it. And yet, across Europe, barriers remain everywhere.

The scale of the issue is reflected in the latest ECDC data. In 2024, migrants accounted for more than 55% of new HIV diagnoses in the EU/EEA, up from 38.3% in 2015. Many migrants also acquire HIV after arriving in Europe, highlighting the need for accessible testing and prevention.

AHF Europe recently conducted a comparative analysis of migrants’ access to HIV and STI services across the nine European countries where AHF operates, including countries in both the EU and Eastern Europe. None fully guaranteed comprehensive access to care, and practical barriers including language, stigma, administrative requirements, and lack of information were identified across all countries reviewed.

Some countries have relatively strong legal frameworks on paper. But reality looks very different once someone tries to navigate the system. Can you access testing without health insurance? What documents do you need? Is interpretation available? Will seeking care affect your migration process? Can undocumented people safely access treatment? Who explains any of this?

These questions matter enormously in practice, and what we see repeatedly is that community organisations often become the bridge between migrants and healthcare systems that are difficult to navigate, even for citizens.

Across Europe, AHF supports community based and low threshold services, including checkpoints, multilingual testing, and outreach programmes that help migrants access care. These approaches are essential because healthcare is not only about services, but about trust. And right now, that trust is fragile.

That fragility risks becoming even worse under parts of the EU’s increasingly punitive migration agenda. Proposed changes to EU return and migration policies risk creating an environment where undocumented migrants become even more afraid to access healthcare services because of fears around surveillance, detention, deportation, or data sharing between institutions.

This is not a theoretical concern: when healthcare systems become entangled with migration enforcement, people disappear from care. Fear of detection pushes people further underground, weakening public health and eroding trust in healthcare systems, while placing healthcare workers in situations where medical ethics risk colliding with migration enforcement priorities. This is not just a migrant issue; it is a public health issue.

Taken together, this exposes a deeper contradiction in Europe’s current political direction. Since COVID-19, European leaders have repeatedly emphasised preparedness, resilience, and health security, highlighting the importance of early detection, strong public health systems, and rapid responses to infectious diseases. The EU has invested heavily in strengthening its health security architecture and improving preparedness for future pandemics. At the same time, however, parts of Europe’s migration policies risk pushing vulnerable communities further away from healthcare systems altogether.

Europe cannot claim to prioritise early detection and prevention while supporting policies that make people afraid to seek care. You cannot build resilient health systems while creating environments where undocumented people fear that visiting a clinic could expose them to detention or deportation. Europe should have learned this lesson already during COVID-19: health systems are only effective when people trust them enough to use them. If migrants avoid testing or treatment because healthcare systems are perceived as connected to migration enforcement, everyone becomes more vulnerable.

Across Europe, migration is increasingly discussed through the language of crisis and control. Health easily disappears in that political climate. Migrants are often portrayed as a burden on healthcare systems, even though excluding people from early prevention and care almost always creates worse health outcomes and higher long-term costs.

The solutions themselves are not particularly complex. We know what works: multilingual services, low threshold community testing, peer outreach, culturally competent care, and partnerships with civil society organisations. But these approaches require political commitment and sustained funding, not temporary pilot projects that disappear after two years.

The European Union has previously played an important role in coordinating HIV responses and setting common public health priorities. Renewing a strong EU HIV Action Plan, with a serious focus on migrant access and health equity, would be an important step forward.

Europe cannot seriously claim to pursue health equity while some of the most vulnerable people on the continent still face barriers to basic HIV and STI services. Migrant health is public health. When migrant health is neglected, public health fails us all.

Mauritius: Mauritius deports HIV-positive care worker despite anti-discrimination laws

Translated with Deepl. For original article in French, please scroll down

A Madagascan worker living with HIV in Mauritius: Deported the day after her moving testimony at the Candlelight Memorial

The reading of her poignant testimony had moved the crowd at the International AIDS Candlelight Memorial, held on 17 May at the Caudan Waterfront. The solidarity expressed and the appeals made were in vain. For the very next day, the woman we shall call Fandja was deported to Madagascar because she is living with HIV. Neither her professionalism nor her impeccable conduct could save her from what she feared so much. But despite anti-discrimination laws, Mauritius continues to apply this highly discriminatory and controversial measure.

“I am not asking for pity. I am simply asking for the right to live, to work and to receive treatment like a human being,” was the message she conveyed in her testimony at Caudan on Sunday evening. The moving account of this 45-year-old Malagasy worker was read out in the hope of countering this measure, which is still being applied by the Mauritian authorities. Having tested positive for HIV in Mauritius, she feared that her status would be disclosed: “The day that happens, I risk losing everything: my job, my healthcare, my stability, my dignity. My family will also lose its sole breadwinner. I will be deported and repatriated like a criminal. I have seen other compatriots of mine suffer this fate. Back home, how will I explain this sudden return? How will I face the stares, the shame, the humiliation? How will I support my family?”

This is precisely what happened to her the following day. “Around 10 am, my boss called me. He took me to the bank so I could collect my money and drove me to where I was living so I could collect some of my personal belongings. It was only at the airport that he told me he’d received a call from the authorities saying I was HIV-positive and that I had to be sent away immediately. ”

“It would break my parents’ hearts to learn that I’ve been deported because I’m living with HIV”

Feeling caught up in a whirlwind, she had left behind a large part of her belongings. “Just before take-off, I called my mother to tell her I was coming home that very evening. I told her I was coming for a few days’ unplanned holiday to rest. I’ll never be able to tell her the truth. My parents are old and ill. I’d come to Mauritius to help them get by. It would break their hearts to learn that I’ve been deported because I’m living with HIV,” says Fandja from Antananarivo.

“I’m at a loss; I don’t know what to do. My priority is to continue my treatment and reassess my plans. It’s very difficult for me.” Until then, everything had been going well for this woman who had been working in a care home for several years. “In Mauritius, every day, I wash, I feed, I help frail people to get up, to eat, to live with dignity. I look after Mauritian parents and grandparents as if they were my own. Every month, I send money to my family back in Madagascar. Children and loved ones depend on me to survive,” she said in her testimony at the Candlelight Memorial.

This 21st edition was organised by around twenty organisations in collaboration with the National Agency for Drug Control (NADC) with the aim of paying tribute to those who have died from HIV-related causes and supporting those affected and infected. The plight of foreign workers and students deported from Mauritius because of HIV was one of the issues highlighted. Hence Fandja’s testimony.

In his address, Nicolas Ritter, founder of PILS, emphasised: “Stigma has not disappeared. It has simply changed its face. It is sometimes more polite, more silent, but just as cruel as ever.” ’ Speaking after Fandja’s testimony had been read out, he added: ‘Earlier, we heard the voice of a woman who could not be with us this evening. And her absence alone speaks volumes. She could not come and take this microphone. She could not show her face. Because in Mauritius in 2026, speaking publicly about one’s HIV status—especially as a foreign worker—still means risking everything.”

Several advocacy campaigns and discussions had already been initiated with the authorities to counter this regressive measure. Moreover, it is at odds with more recent laws (the HIV & AIDS Act, the Equal Opportunities Act, the Workers’ Rights Act) which condemn any discriminatory measure or sanction against people living with HIV. Internationally, the implementation of this measure negatively impacts Mauritius’s image, as the country is seen as one of those still practising such discrimination.

“My treatment is working. I’m fine. I can’t infect anyone. I’m still working, loving and living.”

When Fandja arrived in Mauritius a few years ago, her HIV test was negative. She was then granted a work permit. She later learnt that her partner had been unfaithful to her, which prompted her to take an HIV test at the start of the year. “When the result came back, I thought I was going to die right there and then. I was HIV-positive. For days, I couldn’t sleep. Several times, I thought about suicide. I wondered if my life still had any meaning. Even today, I’m still battling depression. But I started my treatment straight away. I was supported. I’m still fighting. Today, my treatment is working. I’m doing well. I can’t infect anyone. I’m still working, loving, living,” she said in her testimony.

Everything started to unravel when her employer told her that all staff had to take another HIV test. “We hadn’t been consulted. We weren’t asked for our consent. We weren’t given any guarantees of confidentiality. All this despite the fact that the laws in Mauritius were written to protect anyone living with HIV. Refusing could mean losing our jobs.” From that moment on, her fear was that the authorities would disclose her status to her boss despite the prohibitions. That is precisely what happened.

Candles for those “whom Mauritius refuses to welcome and protect”

Nicolas Ritter points out: “Mauritian law protects people against forced testing and against discrimination based on HIV status. This law must be enforced. For everyone, Mauritians and non-Mauritians alike. And let us remember one thing. Our country has been built, generation after generation, by those who came from elsewhere. We are all, in one way or another, descendants of migrants. From India, Africa, Europe, Asia. So how can we close our doors to people who come here to work? And worse still: how can we close them because of their HIV status? A country is not judged solely by its economic growth. It is also judged by the way it treats the most vulnerable.”

As every year, the Candlelight vigil ended with the lighting of candles, accompanied by the evening’s anthem, Enn Lalimier, sung by Éric Triton. On the eve of Fandja’s deportation, Nicolas Ritter declared: “Tonight, we are lighting candles for those we have lost. But also for those whom Mauritius still refuses to fully welcome or still refuses to protect. For this woman whose voice has been heard tonight.”

A few hours later, she was deported.

A legally contradictory measure

The practice of mandatory HIV testing for foreign workers in Mauritius is based primarily on the Immigration Act 2022, which allows for the exclusion from the territory of persons suffering from infectious or communicable diseases, as well as on the Non-Citizens (Employment Restriction) Act 1970, which makes the granting of a work permit conditional upon the presentation of a favourable medical certificate. Although HIV is not explicitly mentioned in the law, administrative procedures effectively require a screening test.

However, this requirement appears legally tenuous in light of the Mauritian legal framework and the country’s international commitments. The HIV and AIDS Act 2006 expressly prohibits any discrimination based on actual or presumed HIV status, particularly in the field of employment, whilst the Equal Opportunities Act 2008 also protects people living with HIV against discrimination in the workplace.

Although the Constitution does not explicitly mention health status among the prohibited grounds for discrimination, a challenge could be based on the fundamental rights guaranteed by Article 3 as well as on the international conventions ratified by Mauritius, notably the ICERD, the ICESCR, ILO Convention No. 111 and Recommendation No. 200 on HIV and the world of work. These international instruments consider mandatory HIV testing for the purpose of excluding individuals from employment or residence to be incompatible with the principles of non-discrimination and respect for human rights.

Travailleuse malgache vivant avec le VIH à Maurice : Déportée au lendemain de son témoignage qui avait ému le Candlelight

La lecture de son témoignage poignant avait ému la foule présente à l’International AIDS Candlelight Memorial, organisé le 17 mai au Caudan Waterfront. La solidarité exprimée et les appels lancés ont été vains. Puisqu’au lendemain même, celle que nous surnommerons Fandja a été déportée vers Madagascar parce qu’elle vit avec le VIH. Ni son professionnalisme ni son attitude irréprochable n’ont pu la sauver de ce qu’elle redoutait tant. Mais malgré les lois contre la discrimination, Maurice continue à appliquer cette mesure hautement discriminatoire et controversée.

« Je ne demande pas la pitié. Je demande simplement le droit de vivre, de travailler et de me soigner comme un être humain », tel avait été le message lancé dans son témoignage au Caudan, dans la soirée du dimanche. Le récit émouvant de cette travailleuse malgache de 45 ans avait été lu dans l’espoir de contrer cette mesure encore appliquée par les autorités mauriciennes. Dépistée positive au VIH sur le sol mauricien, elle craignait que son statut ne soit divulgué : « Le jour où cela arrivera, je risque de tout perdre : mon travail, mes soins, ma stabilité, ma dignité. Ma famille perdra aussi son seul soutien. Je serai expulsée du territoire et rapatriée comme une criminelle. Cela, j’ai vu d’autres de mes compatriotes subir ce sort. Au pays, comment ferai-je pour expliquer ce soudain retour ? Comment vais-je affronter les regards, la honte, l’humiliation ? Comment ferai-je pour faire vivre ma famille ? »

C’est précisément ce qui lui est arrivé le lendemain. « Vers 10h, mon patron m’a appelée. Il m’a conduite à la banque pour que je récupère mon argent et m’a conduite là où je vivais pour que je récupère une partie de mes effets personnels. C’est seulement à l’aéroport qu’il m’a informée qu’il avait reçu un appel des autorités lui indiquant que j’étais positive au VIH et qu’il fallait me faire partir tout de suite. »

« Cela briserait le cœur de mes parents d’apprendre que j’ai été déportée parce que je vis avec le VIH »

Se sentant prise dans un tourbillon, elle avait laissé une bonne partie de ses affaires. « Juste avant le décollage, j’ai appelé ma mère pour lui dire que je rentrais le soir même. Je lui ai dit que je venais pour quelques jours de vacances imprévues afin de me reposer. Je ne pourrai jamais lui dire la vérité. Mes parents sont vieux et malades. J’étais venue à Maurice pour les aider à survivre. Cela leur briserait le cœur d’apprendre que j’ai été déportée parce que je vis avec le VIH », témoigne Fandja depuis Antananarivo.

« Je suis déboussolée, je ne sais pas quoi faire. Ma priorité est de continuer mon traitement et de revoir mes projets. C’est très compliqué pour moi. » Jusqu’alors, tout allait bien pour cette femme engagée dans une maison de retraite depuis quelques années. « À Maurice, chaque jour, je lave, je nourris, j’aide des personnes fragiles à se lever, à manger, à vivre avec dignité. Je prends soin de parents, de grands-parents mauriciens comme si c’étaient les miens. Chaque mois, j’envoie de l’argent à ma famille restée à Madagascar. Des enfants, des proches comptent sur moi pour vivre », disait son témoignage lors du Candlelight Memorial.

Cette 21e édition avait été organisée par une vingtaine d’associations en collaboration avec la National Agency for Drug Control (NADC) dans le but de rendre hommage aux personnes décédées de causes liées au VIH et de soutenir les personnes affectées et infectées. Le sort des travailleurs et étudiants étrangers déportés de Maurice à cause du VIH avait été l’un des sujets mis en avant. D’où le témoignage de Fandja.

Dans son allocution, Nicolas Ritter, fondateur de PILS, avait fait ressortir : « La stigmatisation n’a pas disparu. Elle a changé de visage. Elle est parfois plus polie, plus silencieuse, mais toujours aussi cruelle. » Intervenant après la lecture du témoignage de Fandja, il ajoutait : « Nous avons entendu plus tôt la voix d’une femme qui n’a pas pu être parmi nous ce soir. Et son absence, à elle seule, dit déjà beaucoup. Elle ne pouvait pas venir prendre ce micro. Elle ne pouvait pas montrer son visage. Parce que dans le Maurice de 2026, témoigner publiquement de sa séropositivité, surtout quand on est une travailleuse étrangère ou un travailleur étranger, c’est encore risquer de tout perdre. »

Plusieurs actions de plaidoyer et des discussions avaient déjà été lancées avec les autorités pour contrer cette mesure rétrograde. Elle est, de surcroît, en porte-à-faux avec des lois plus récentes (HIV & AIDS Act, Equal Opportunities Act, Workers’ Rights Act) qui condamnent toute mesure discriminatoire ou toute sanction contre les personnes vivant avec le VIH. À l’international, l’application de cette mesure impacte négativement l’image de Maurice, considérée comme l’un des pays pratiquant encore cette discrimination.

« Mon traitement fonctionne. Je vais bien. Je ne peux infecter personne. Je continue à travailler, à aimer, à vivre »

Quand Fandja était arrivée à Maurice il y a quelques années, son test de dépistage était négatif. Elle avait alors obtenu son permis de travail. Elle avait plus tard appris que son compagnon lui avait été infidèle, ce qui l’avait encouragée à faire un test de dépistage au début de l’année. « Quand le résultat est tombé, j’ai cru mourir sur place. J’étais séropositive. Pendant des jours, je n’ai plus dormi. Plusieurs fois, j’ai pensé au suicide. Je me suis demandé si ma vie avait encore un sens. Aujourd’hui encore, je lutte contre la dépression. Mais j’ai commencé immédiatement mon traitement. J’ai été accompagnée. Je continue à me battre. Aujourd’hui, mon traitement fonctionne. Je vais bien. Je ne peux infecter personne. Je continue à travailler, à aimer, à vivre », disait son témoignage.

Tout a commencé à basculer lorsque son employeur lui a annoncé que tout le personnel devait refaire un test VIH. « Nous n’avions pas été consultés. On ne nous a pas demandé notre consentement. On ne nous a donné aucune garantie de confidentialité. Tout cela alors même que les lois à Maurice ont été écrites pour protéger toute personne vivant avec le VIH. Refuser pourrait signifier perdre notre travail. » À partir de ce moment, sa crainte était que les autorités communiquent son statut à son patron malgré les interdictions. C’est précisément ce qui s’est passé.

Des bougies pour celles et ceux « que Maurice refuse d’accueillir et de protéger »

Nicolas Ritter le rappelle : « La loi mauricienne protège les personnes contre le dépistage forcé et contre la discrimination fondée sur le statut VIH. Cette loi doit être appliquée. Pour tous et toutes, Mauriciens ou non-Mauriciens. Et rappelons-nous une chose. Notre pays s’est construit, génération après génération, avec celles et ceux qui sont venus d’ailleurs. Nous sommes tous, d’une manière ou d’une autre, des descendants de migrations. Venus d’Inde, d’Afrique, d’Europe, d’Asie. Alors comment pouvons-nous fermer nos portes à des personnes qui viennent travailler ici ? Et pire encore : comment pouvons-nous les fermer à cause d’un statut sérologique ? Un pays ne se juge pas uniquement à sa croissance économique. Il se juge aussi à la manière dont il traite les plus vulnérables. »

Comme chaque année, le Candlelight a pris fin par l’allumage des bougies, accompagné de l’hymne de la soirée, Enn Lalimier, chanté par Éric Triton. À la veille de l’expulsion de Fandja, Nicolas Ritter déclarait : « Ce soir, nous allumons des bougies pour celles et ceux que nous avons perdus. Mais aussi pour celles et ceux que Maurice refuse encore d’accueillir pleinement ou refuse encore de protéger. Pour cette femme dont la voix a été portée ce soir. »

Quelques heures après, elle était déportée.

Une mesure légalement contradictoire

La pratique du dépistage obligatoire du VIH pour les travailleurs étrangers à Maurice repose principalement sur l’Immigration Act 2022, qui permet d’exclure du territoire les personnes atteintes de maladies infectieuses ou transmissibles, ainsi que sur le Non-Citizens (Employment Restriction) Act 1970, qui subordonne l’obtention d’un permis de travail à la présentation d’un certificat médical favorable. Bien que le VIH ne soit pas explicitement mentionné dans la loi, les procédures administratives imposent en pratique un test de dépistage.

Cependant, cette exigence apparaît juridiquement fragile au regard du cadre légal mauricien et des engagements internationaux du pays. La HIV and AIDS Act 2006 interdit expressément toute discrimination fondée sur le statut sérologique réel ou présumé, notamment dans le domaine de l’emploi, tandis que l’Equal Opportunities Act 2008 protège également les personnes vivant avec le VIH contre les discriminations professionnelles.

Bien que la Constitution ne mentionne pas explicitement le statut de santé parmi les motifs de discrimination interdits, une contestation pourrait s’appuyer sur les droits fondamentaux garantis par l’article 3 ainsi que sur les conventions internationales ratifiées par Maurice, notamment l’ICERD, le PIDESC, la Convention n°111 de l’OIT et la Recommandation n°200 sur le VIH et le monde du travail. Ces instruments internationaux considèrent le dépistage obligatoire du VIH à des fins d’exclusion de l’emploi ou du séjour comme incompatible avec les principes de non-discrimination et de respect des droits humains.

Russia: 83 migrants with HIV and other infectious diseases deported from the Nizhny Novgorod region in 2025

83 migrants with dangerous diseases who lived in the Nizhny Novgorod region were expelled from Russia in 2025. 49 of them, according to the Department of Internal Affairs of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia in the region, left the country on their own. This became known from the report of the regional Rospotrebnadzor.

In total, 57,616 foreigners, most of them are citizens of Uzbekistan, passed the medical examination last year. Specialists identified 84 patients with infectious diseases. 31 people were infected with HIV, 29 with tuberculosis, 24 with syphilis.

Rospotrebnadzor issued 24 decisions on the deportation of HIV-patient migrants who do not have close Russian relatives, as well as 30 decisions on the expulsion of tuberculosis patients and 29 decisions on syphilis patients.

However, such conclusions can be appealed. In 2025, the office considered eight applications for suspension of the decision on the undesirability of stay. Four of them were a positive verdict. In addition, ten applications for the cancellation of the decision on the undesirability of stay were received, and all were satisfied.

Kazakhstan: Access to HIV treatment in Kazakhstan for citizens and foreigner

In Kazakhstan, HIV treatment is officially free, the state provides patients with antiretroviral therapy (ART). But in practice, access to treatment depends on a person’s status: whether he has citizenship or a residence permit. Kursiv Lifestyle figured out how everything works and what to do in different situations.

How can citizens of Kazakhstan get ART:

First you take an HIV test. If the result is positive, you will be referred to an infectious disease specialist or a specialist of the center:
Next, you need to contact the AIDS center and report your result. The doctor conducts additional examinations and offers to register;
Registration is issued and you officially become a patient of the center;
After that, the doctor selects a treatment regimen. Antiretroviral drugs are given free of charge through the center, and the patient begins regular therapy.

Where to get tested for HIV for free and anonymously? You can take the test free of charge at the polyclinic by attachment or at the AIDS Center. Private medical centers also provide this service, but for a fee.

If complete anonymity is important, it is better to go to the AIDS Center or a private laboratory. In case of anonymous contact, no documents are required, you will be assigned a number known only to you.

Another anonymous way is to order a free express home test through the website hivtest.kz. This can be done today in 5 cities: Almaty, Astana, Karaganda, Ust-Kamenogorsk and Pavlodar.

Testing is included in the guaranteed amount of free medical care. This means that it can be passed even without registration or documents.

Where to register? To get therapy, you need to register at the AIDS center, they are in every major city. It is through this system that drugs are prescribed and issued.

This usually happens in the same institutions where testing is carried out – regional centers and polyclinics.

You can find out the address of the AIDS center in your city on the website of the Kazakh Scientific Center of Dermatology and Infectious Diseases.

What should I do if I don’t register in the system? The lack of registration complicates the process, but does not make it impossible. In any case, you can take the test for free and anonymously. Problems begin at the registration stage, as the system usually requires IIN or attachment to a polyclinic.

There are options: temporary attachment to the polyclinic or registration through the AIDS center itself. If there are refusals, it is recommended to apply again or to another center – decisions are often made individually.

What should foreigners do

The situation depends on the status of stay in the country. Foreigners with a residence permit (residence permit) have the same rights as citizens of Kazakhstan. They can get tested, register and receive therapy for free.

If there is no residence permit? If a person is in the country temporarily (under the RWP), he is entitled to free tests and consultations, but free ART is not guaranteed by law. But there is international donor funding and NGOs through which some people receive therapy or emergency support.

Then the person needs to contact the nearest AIDS Center as soon as possible and clarify whether it is possible to get into the donor program. The main source of such assistance is the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria. As of December 9, 2025, 225 people living with HIV in Kazakhstan received ART at the expense of a Global Fund grant.

For help, you can contact NGOs and patient organizations. Community Friends work with HIV migrants in Almaty. They give pre-exposure therapy, put citizens from Central Asia on the remote registration, help and accompany to the AIDS center, where you can get treatment for foreign citizens, advise on adherence to ART, legal and social issues. In emergency cases, you can get a supply of ART for 1-2 months through them. For example, if a person is “stuck” in another country and cannot leave.

We managed to contact Oksana Ibragimova, a senior case manager of the Community friends. She confirmed the information about grants for ART and told about the program for citizens of neighboring countries.

“At the moment, non-citizens of Kazakhstan can apply to any AIDS center and receive therapy on a grant from the Global Fund. In addition, now we have a program for citizens of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan: they can send their tests to their homeland, they will be registered there and send medicines to Kazakhstan. Thus, the treatment is carried out at the expense of their native country,” says Ibragimova.

For HIV-positive travelers and migrants, Oksana recommended the website vputi.org, where you can find out information about the laws of different countries regarding HIV and access to therapy.

If a person has been denied treatment, there is a risk of interruption of therapy or problems with tests, you can leave an appeal on the Pereboi platform – you will need to fill out a small form on the website to contact the consultant, there are no contact numbers. You can also contact the Kazakhstan Union of People Living with HIV for advice and routing – the contact number and mail are in the “contacts” section of the website itself.

Important clarification: HIV status does not restrict entry into the country and does not prevent obtaining a residence permit, it was excluded from the list of diseases with which it is impossible to enter the country back in 2011.

Где гражданам и иностранцам с ВИЧ получить терапию в Казахстане

В Казахстане лечение ВИЧ официально бесплатное, государство обеспечивает пациентов антиретровирусной терапией (АРТ). Но на практике доступ к лечению зависит от статуса человека: есть ли гражданство или вид на жительство. Kursiv Lifestyle разобрался, как все устроено и что делать в разных ситуациях.

Как гражданам Казахстана получить АРТ:

Сначала вы проходите тест на ВИЧ. Если результат положительный, вас направляют к инфекционисту или специалисту центра:
Далее нужно обратиться в СПИД-центр и сообщить о своем результате. Врач проводит дополнительные обследования и предлагает встать на учет;
Оформляется постановка на учет и вы официально становитесь пациентом центра;
После этого врач подбирает схему лечения. Антиретровирусные препараты выдают бесплатно через центр, и пациент начинает регулярную терапию.

Где пройти тест на ВИЧ бесплатно и анонимно? Сдать тест можно бесплатно в поликлинике по прикреплению или в СПИД-Центре. Частные медицинские центры тоже оказывают эту услугу, но платно.

Если важна полная анонимность, то лучше пойти в СПИД-Центр или частную лабораторию. При анонимном обращении документы не требуются, вам присвоят номер, известный только вам.

Еще один анонимный способ — заказать бесплатный экспресс-тест на дом через сайтhivtest.kz. Сделать это можно на сегодня в 5 городах: Алматы, Астана, Караганда, Усть-Каменогорск и Павлодар.

Тестирование входит в гарантированный объем бесплатной медицинской помощи. Это означает, что его можно пройти даже без регистрации или документов.

Где встать на учет? Чтобы получить терапию, нужно встать на учет в СПИД-центре, они есть в каждом крупном городе. Именно через эту систему назначают и выдают препараты.

Обычно это происходит в тех же учреждениях, где проводится тестирование — региональных центрах и поликлиниках.

Узнать адрес центра СПИД в вашем городе можно на сайте Казахского научного центра дерматологии и инфекционных заболеваний.

Что делать, если нет регистрации в системе? Отсутствие регистрации усложняет процесс, но не делает его невозможным. Пройти тест можно в любом случае бесплатно и анонимно. Проблемы начинаются на этапе постановки на учет, так как система обычно требует ИИН или прикрепление к поликлинике.

Возможны варианты: временное прикрепление к поликлинике или оформление через сам СПИД-центр. Если возникают отказы, рекомендуется обращаться повторно или в другой центр — решения часто принимаются индивидуально.

Что делать иностранцам

Ситуация зависит от статуса пребывания в стране. Иностранцы с видом на жительство (ВНЖ) имеют те же права, что и граждане Казахстана. Они могут пройти тестирование, встать на учет и получать терапию бесплатно.

Если ВНЖ нет? Если человек находится в стране временно (по РВП), ему полагаются бесплатные тесты и консультации, но бесплатная АРТ не гарантирована законом. Но есть международное донорское финансирование и НПО, через которые часть людей получает терапию или экстренную поддержку.

Тогда человеку нужно как можно быстрее обратиться в ближайший Центр СПИД и уточнить, можно ли попасть в донорскую программу. Главный источник такой помощи — Глобальный фонд борьбы со СПИДом, туберкулезом и малярией. На 9 декабря 2025 года 225 людей, живущих с ВИЧ в Казахстане получали АРТ за счет средств гранта Глобального фонда.

За помощью можно обращаться в НПО и пациентские организации. В Алматы с мигрантами с ВИЧ работает Community Friends. Они дают доконтактную терапию, ставят на дистанционный учет граждан из Центральной Азии, помогают и сопровождаем в центр СПИД, где можно получить лечение для иностранных граждан консультируют по приверженности к АРТ, по правовым и социальным вопросам. В экстренных случаях через них можно получить запас АРТ на 1–2 месяца. Например, если человек «застрял» в другой стране и не может выехать.

Нам удалось связаться с Оксаной Ибрагимовой — старшим кейс менеджером ОФ Community friends. Она подтвердила информацию о грантах на АРТ и рассказала о программе для граждан соседних стран.

«На данный момент неграждане Казахстана могут обратиться в любой СПИД-центр, и по гранту Глобального фонда получить терапию. Кроме того, сейчас у нас действует программа для граждан Узбекистана, Таджикистана и Кыргызстана: они могут выслать свои анализы на Родину, там их поставят на учет и отправят лекарства уже в Казахстан. Таким образом лечение осуществляется за счет их родной страны», — говорит Ибрагимова.

Для ВИЧ-положительных путешественников и мигрантов Оксана порекомендовала сайт vputi.org, где можно узнать информацию о законах разных стран касательно ВИЧ и доступа к терапии.

Если человеку отказали в лечении, есть риск перерыва терапии или проблемы с анализами, можно оставить обращение на платформе Pereboi — нужно будет заполнить небольшую форму на сайте, чтобы связаться с консультантом, контактных номеров нет. Также за консультацией и маршрутизацией можно обращаться в Казахстанский союз людей, живущих с ВИЧ — контактный номер и почта есть в разделе «контакты» на самом сайте.

Важное уточнение: ВИЧ-статус не ограничивает въезд в страну и не мешает получить вид на жительство, его исключили из перечня заболеваний, с которыми нельзя въезжать в страну, еще в 2011.