Solyanka #216: Three years of immigration, negative successes and social sabotage

Looks like my joy was for nothing. The social worker from MDS continues to eat my brain with tiny coffee spoons. And it’s incredibly exhausting.

I’m approaching the three-year anniversary of my immigration.

In a few days, on October 7th, it will be the third anniversary of my immigration. I’ll be starting language courses that day, and I won’t have time to write, so I decided to write this post in advance.

I left with just one suitcase, but I knew full well I was leaving forever. Letters from Russian agencies, declaring the army discredited, were hurried on. I had no financial cushion, no internationally sought-after profession, and no good English. I had absolutely nothing that could instill confidence in the future. But there was no turning back either. I left alone. Olya remained in Russia, flying to visit me on vacation, and only left the country for good nine months later.

Six months in Turkey were both wonderful and extremely stressful. Unfortunately, they ended with a residence permit denial, a fine, and a ban on visiting the country for a month. I had all the documents, but the police didn’t care — just pay up and get out. Then I was really worried they wouldn’t let me change planes in Istanbul. After that, there were a couple of weeks in Kyrgyzstan and nine months in Montenegro and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

In the summer of 2023, Olya joined me. We weren’t allowed to stay in Montenegro for longer than 30 days. We were living alternately in Montenegro and Bosnia. By then, Reporters Without Borders had already verified my case. We were waiting for a decision on a humanitarian visa to Germany. Unfortunately, it was rejected. We lacked connections to Germany. We didn’t have residence permits for Balkan countries, so we couldn’t return to Russia or apply for visas to EU countries. It was a dead end.

We then asked representatives of Reporters Without Borders to help us apply for a humanitarian visa to France. A few months later, we received an invitation to a rendezvous at the French Embassy in Serbia. We spent about two weeks in Belgrade, processing the paperwork. On the evening of February 14, 2024, we flew to Paris. It wasn’t a matter of romance; we simply flew out as soon as we received our passports and visas.

We were on our way to the SPADA office in the Parisian suburb of Créteil to apply for asylum when we learned of Alexei Navalny’s murder. Then came numerous moves, preparing case documents, a terrible dorm in Metz, a sharp decline in health, and a transfer to a shelter in Clermont-en-Argonne. We spent almost a year in this tiny town of 1,500 residents. At the end of November 2024, we learned we had been granted refugee status. Before, we had been in a state of nervous limbo, but now we learned we would be able to stay in France.

In May 2025, we moved into social housing in Bar-le-Duc, a town in the prefecture of Meuse, department number 55 in France. Over time, it became clear that the apartment was completely unsuitable for someone with asthma. We found a private apartment and are now trying to arrange a move.

Offline French courses are supposed to start in a week. But they’re only three hours a week. I need to get my French to at least a B2 level so I can negotiate. But it looks like 30-hour-a-week courses are out of the question for me here. However, we’ll see. Right now, the most important thing for us is to move and get our health back. After the move, I’ll slowly start preparing to relaunch my agency, SMMHOT. I hope everything works out.

We’ve come a long way. But I still feel like we’re only at the very beginning of the journey to a normal life. I spent forty years of my life as a Russian. Now I have to become French. Learn the French language, culture, and etiquette, make new friends here, and succeed in business. There are many challenges. I have faith in myself. Everything will definitely work out! Sooner or later, there will be results. I will put in a lot of effort.

Negative forward movement

I have a feeling that the gentleman from MDS, who should theoretically be helping us apply for FSL, is simply stalling. Meanwhile, three weeks have passed since we first contacted Maison de la Solidarité about this issue. And I’m starting to get really angry. We’re simply asking for an application. The social worker isn’t responsible for a refusal.

But I’m getting the impression that the social services are deliberately dragging things out. So that by then the landlord will get tired of waiting and find other tenants. It’s hard for me to judge the motivation behind such actions. But every new step with this person isn’t even a squeak, it’s a crunch. That’s not how things are done.

Not all social workers are equally helpful

Until recently, I had a very high opinion of the Maison de la Solidarité in Bar-le-Duc. We first went there right after moving to the city. We had a letter from our CADA addressed to the local social worker. This social worker subsequently helped us a lot, both in word and deed. When she was away, we turned to other social workers, and they were just as helpful.

Then we were given an appointment with another social worker. We had to wait almost a week for this meeting. And the dear gentleman was 25 minutes late for this appointment. We were informed beforehand that we were not eligible for the FSL. So we were counting on assistance with obtaining the VISALE guarantee.

The meeting was somewhat rushed. The social worker fiercely expressed skepticism and immediately started asking if the landlord was willing to wait for us. It was clear he wasn’t interested in helping us. We agreed that he would apply for the VISALE guarantee and that he would email us the information.

That was on Wednesday; there was no further communication from him for the rest of the week. On Monday, as I understand it, a journalist from a highly respected French publication called the city’s social services about our case. That day, I tried to establish communication between the social workers at MDS and AMIE, our official social workers for the AGIR program, appointed by OFFI.

I naively hoped that together we could somehow resolve the issue of financial support for our move, or at least a guarantor. Apparently, my plan failed. But a call from a journalist woke our sleeping social worker. He sent a long letter stating that he had misinformed us about our eligibility for support from FSL.

I responded and expressed my wishes, but the social worker disappeared again until Friday evening. I’m willing to bet he was awakened again by further calls from the famous journalist. We received another letter, which, however, didn’t reveal anything. In the middle of this week, we received a letter with the apartment’s energy efficiency certificate.

Now the social worker no longer had any grounds for inaction. I wrote him a long letter with a bunch of documents and asked him to set up an appointment to begin the FSL application. The social worker had started to show some activity, but today he started backtracking again: “Are you sure you can afford this apartment? You’re short on money, everything will go toward rent, etc.” “Just do the math again,” he said.

Yeah, f*ck it!!! This whole MDS thing has been going on for three weeks now. All the apartment details and our income were known in advance. What’s this talk about three weeks later? I’M JUST ASKING YOU TO DO YOUR JOB. I’m not asking for advice, sympathy, or anything like that. I just need someone to apply for a FSL, because I can’t do it myself.

The man is perfectly aware that we’re planning to move specifically for health reasons. That our current apartment isn’t suitable. That there’s a doctor’s certificate stating the need to move. This is complete nonsense. There’s a system that assumes all social housing is ideal by default, and we’re supposed to live in social housing.

This system doesn’t help us find alternative housing. And when, against all odds, we find it, when the landlord provides all the necessary documents, the system starts backfiring. It’s moments like these that make me feel like the social assistance system is working in the interests of officials, not in the interests of vulnerable people.

Do I have to end up in the emergency room again with complications, just like in Metz? Do I have to cough up blood for my problems to be noticed?! Do I have to go all the way to the top again for this issue to even be addressed?! I don’t understand why someone should decide for us what to do and how to live. We have every legal right to receive a guarantor and relocation assistance, but we can’t get it.

We can’t even submit a request, even though it’s been three weeks. This is complete nonsense. And I can’t figure out if this is just one social worker being slow, or if this is just how the system works?! Is this a bug or a common feature? I’ll definitely find out. And if resolving this requires writing dozens of requests and complaints, and contacting hundreds of media outlets, I will do it.

Let me repeat. I’M SIMPLY ASKING the social worker TO DO HIS JOB. I don’t understand why this is causing him so many delays and excuses. With this approach, even the simplest case will be handled. Which, in my opinion, is what’s happening now.

The first evening of October

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My other materials on this topic:

• Solyanka #215: Civic Education, Misdirected Criticism, Trouble, and Lots of Photos (October 1, 2025)
• Solyanka #214: A Diagonal of Emptiness, a Move-In Failure, a Chicken Coop, Pumpkins, and Fog (September 27, 2025)
• Solyanka №213: Anticipation and proactivity, the threat to Moldova and the Trebinje Mountains (September 25, 2025)

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