Pubdate: Mon 24 Apr 2000 Source: New York Times (NY) Copyright: 2000 The New York Times Company Contact: 229 West 43rd Street, New York, NY 10036 Fax: (212) 556-3622 Website: http://www.nytimes.com/ Forum: http://www10.nytimes.com/comment/ Author: Michael Wines HEROIN CARRIES AIDS TO A REGION IN SIBERIA IRKUTSK, Russia, April 22 -- Thirteen months ago, a young man from this city's rough-and-tumble north side appeared at the government railroad workers' hospital complaining of a head wound suffered in a family fight. A blood work-up soon showed that it was the least of his problems: he was also infected with H.I.V., the virus that causes AIDS. That was unusual. In the entire Irkutsk region, a Siberian expanse big enough to accommodate France and England in one gulp, health officials had recorded fewer than 200 H.I.V. infections since record-keeping began in 1991. But when a second north-side man checked into another hospital for an operation a few days later, only to test positive for H.I.V., the officials decided to investigate. What they found is still resounding through Irkutsk, a run-down river town of 650,000 just north of Mongolia. The two men, it turned out, both attended Vocational School 44, a training institute for river transport workers. Further tests uncovered six more H.I.V. cases among their classmates. All eight shared another deadly trait: they were addicted to heroin, which first appeared in the city's drug subculture only six or seven months earlier. Today a region that hardly heard of AIDS a year ago has recorded 5,000 new cases of H.I.V. infection and registered more than 8,500 drug addicts. Those are the official statistics: the true figures could be as much as 10 times as great, officials say. Perhaps nowhere else in Russia have H.I.V. infections grown so explosively. Heroin has proven the deadly catalyst in this epidemic. It has fueled a sharp rise in drug use and encouraged the needle sharing that helps to spread AIDS. "It's a fire there," Arkadiusz Majszyk, the United Nations AIDS representative in Russia, said this week. "And nobody is paying attention." If it is a fire, then the rest of Russia is surely smoldering. The number of H.I.V.-infected Russians is small so far -- 33,000 by official estimates, perhaps 300,000 by international ones -- but the potential for growth is huge. The United Nations, which joined Russian officials on Friday to announce a new effort to halt the epidemic, says the virus's spread is accelerating and could move beyond drug users without preventive measures. Already 40 per cent of Russian prostitutes, who often use drugs, are H.I.V.-positive. The growing prevalence of venereal diseases like gonorrhea make sexual transmission of the virus even easier. And with the poverty and general breakdowns of law and mores that followed the Soviet Union's collapse, prostitution and drug use are thriving. "The second wave of infection, which will come very soon, is heterosexual transmission," Mr. Majszyk said in an earlier interview. "It will go for the next two or three years, because the main measures which should be taken are connected with prevention. And to work, prevention needs time." Time is in short supply in Irkutsk. Heroin and H.I.V. have already penetrated virtually every corner of this vast region, a farrago of pristine forest and permafrost, dying company towns and smoky industrial cities. Heroin has surfaced in Bodaibo, a mountain-ringed gold mining outpost reachable only by small plane, and in Ust-Kut, a northern river port whose shipping business has all but dried up. There is H.I.V. in Mama, a moribund mica mining village some 400 miles north of here, and in Bratsk, a good-sized manufacturing center far down the north-flowing Angara River. The Irkutsk region is home to about two million people. Simple math says the rate of H.I.V. infection is somewhere between 1 in 40 and 1 in 400. "But you really have to measure it against the number of youth," because drug use and H.I.V. are largely confined to the young, said Yelena A. Lyustritskaya, who heads a government commission on drug abuse. "And in the Irkutsk region there are 300,000 people between the ages of 14 and 28. So it turns out that every third or fourth young man at age 18 or 20 takes drugs." No one knows the infection rate among those users. But Dr. Maksim Medvedev, who screens addicts for a private rehabilitation program called Siberia Without Drugs, says roughly 3 of every 10 people he examines have the AIDS virus. At the government's principal rehabilitation center, 40 of the 62 inpatients are infected with H.I.V. Talk to some of the current and reformed addicts at that center, a tidy, but rundown and cheerless place, and those numbers do not seem so outlandish. "We used to be the department for glue sniffers," one of the center's doctors said. "There is only one sniffer here now. There are no alcoholics. They are all drug addicts." A buzz-cut 16-year-old who moved from opium to heroin said he believed that he had gotten H.I.V. by sharing his needle late last year. One 17-year-old with H.I.V. and hepatitis, who began using opium at 15 and switched to heroin about six months ago, offered a common theory to explain the epidemic: outsiders salted the heroin with the ground-up bones of African AIDS victims. "The countries that supply us don't have anything, only fruits," he said. "Siberia's rich, and they want everybody here to die." Natalya Kozhevnikova, a 27-year-old from a small diamond-mining town, said many addicts there began using drugs at ages 12 or 13. "There is nothing to do -- no movie theaters, no discos, nothing," she said. Lelia Starodumova, 23, was a swimming champion and model before she started opium four years ago. Now she and her husband are heroin addicts, and she carries H.I.V. "Ninety-nine percent of drug addicts have H.I.V.," she said blandly. "The only ones who aren't sick are the ones who haven't had their blood tested." In a bleak two-room apartment across town, opposite the ramshackle factory that produces Russia's top fighter jet, the Su-30, Andrei Kurnosov, a 30-year-old addict, said he had been on drugs for nine years. When he began, he said, he was among the top five in his law class, aiming for a chance to study in the United States. Now he practices petty thievery and rolls small-time drug sellers for the 150 rubles -- about $5 -- he needs daily to finance his habit. Mr. Kurnosov says he has avoided H.I.V. through blind luck. He has shared needles with other addicts, the last time three months ago, although he knows the dangers full well. "You don't care when you need a dose," he said. "The fear of remaining sober and in pain overwhelms any fear of sickness." Heroin's death grip on its victims offers some explanation of why H.I.V. has raced through Irkutsk's addict population. Opium, whose less insistent craving grants a user some time to find a clean syringe, once was the drug of choice. But unlike heroin, which needs only water to be injected, opium must be carefully cooked and mixed. So when heroin suddenly appeared some 18 months ago, addicts switched en masse. It first came in liquid form -- in bottles or already-loaded syringes -- and groups of users foolishly filled their syringes from the same bottle, raising the odds that one infected addict would contaminate many others. Today heroin comes as a powder wrapped in paper "checks," Russian slang for the cash-register tapes that they resemble. Fifty-ruble and 100-ruble checks are sold almost brazenly, from newsstands and bread kiosks and by loitering dealers, in any number of open-air drug markets around town. Addicts say many police officers have been bought off, and they may be right: in one muddy north-side market named Treity Posylok, or Third Settlement, a militia jeep cruised past knots of dealers and addicts twice in 10 minutes one afternoon this week. The police, meanwhile, say the heroin trade is ballooning despite their best efforts to stop it. The drug comes by truck from Afghanistan and Tajikistan, far to the west of Irkutsk, and is distributed throughout Siberia from the southern Russian city of Novosibirsk. Irkutsk's militia seized about 400 pounds of drugs last year, well ahead of previous years but a pittance in comparison with the total traffic. Smugglers vacuum-pack heroin or hide it in shipments of rotting onions to deter drug-sniffing dogs. More and more, the trade has shifted from individual free-lancers to organized crime. "It's difficult to control the flow," the deputy chief of the eastern Siberia militia, Pyotr Kobalchok, said this week. "We've even arrested members of the Tajikistan special services who were escorting the smugglers. It's that well-organized." Beneath such frustration over Irkutsk's plight runs a subtle but pointed undercurrent: this region never had such problems when the Soviet Union existed. Addiction and AIDS are among the consequences of freedom and capitalism that Westerners neglected to mention when Communist rule ended a decade ago. Law-enforcement officials unanimously blame the drug problem on the opening of Soviet borders and the loosening of government control over ordinary people. "Back then, there were no charter flights," said Nikolai Pushkar, chief of the eastern Siberia transport militia, which battles drug smuggling. "Everything was state-owned, and it wasn't possible to negotiate with the state. In the past only the president could have his own plane. Now anyone with money can have a plane. "No matter how much we criticize the Soviet system, there was a certain ideology. We were educated in an absolutely different way. Of course, there were abuses when the state interfered with family life. But there were standards then." Irkutsk has declared its own war on both of its epidemics, hiring new narcotics police, printing educational brochures and changing the school curriculum to promote what officials call "the healthy way of life." But beyond telling people to just say no to drugs, officials have done little to prevent the spread of H.I.V. among addicts and have no immediate plans to do so. Proven AIDS preventive measures, like providing drug addicts with sterile needles or bottles of virus-killing bleach, remain on the drawing board -- in part, some critics say, because politicians believe that they amount to an endorsement of drug use. "We had contact with different people last year, including people from foreign countries where such programs are implemented," Dimitri Piven, the Irkutsk region's deputy head of health care, said in an interview this week. "Since there are different schemes, we are choosing an optimal one for ourselves." Mr. Piven said officials would try to put new preventive measures into effect among addicts before year's end. The addict Mr. Kurnosov, his gaunt, rheumy face a contrast to hands swollen grotesquely by repeated injections, said that would be too late for many addicts. For many others, it already is. "The generation of the 70's is dying," he said. "The generation of the 80's is already dead -- not all, not 100 percent. But 50 percent are killing themselves before a natural death." - --- MAP posted-by: Jo-D