"No goal to accept all Belarusians in the world." How the first Belarusian shelter in Italy works

To get to the shelter from the center of Florence, you need to travel about half an hour by suburban train — past famous hills covered with vineyards and olive groves — and then navigate a bit more through the narrow streets of one of the cozy suburbs.

Low-rise houses, clean sidewalks, clear air. Minimal pedestrians, quiet cars, green vegetation. Silence. Not very convenient from a logistics standpoint, but very suitable for a peaceful retreat, which Belarusian migrants often need.

The shelter is located in a townhouse of relatively new construction. High windows, a silent elevator, an underground garage. The Belarusian space begins beyond the threshold of a three-room apartment with a spacious balcony.

"Here, in the fresh air, it's good to sleep," says Illya Danilau, a resident of the shelter, a volunteer, and a former volunteer from the Kastuś Kalinoŭski Regiment with the call sign "Lom," nodding towards the balcony.

A place for the shelter was sought for several months

The apartments are arranged according to classic European standards. A spacious hall with a furnished kitchen, a large TV, and a sofa. And two bedrooms — which, in fact, reveal the purpose of this living space. Each room has three beds — one single and one bunk bed. Plus tables, wardrobes, nightstands — all of this indicates that the facility operates according to dormitory rules.

Павялічыць

"We received the keys [to the apartment] last October. That's when we moved in," says Yulia Yukhno, the head and initiator of the shelter's creation.

According to her, it took several months to find a place — a slow process, as renting real estate to refugees from a distant country has its pitfalls. Private landlords, for example, prefer to rent apartments to families rather than to mysterious foreigners in the process of legalizing their stay.

Ultimately, the puzzle came together in this quiet Florence suburb, and as the Belarusian woman notes, the apartment received for use is social housing.

Initially, local authorities and the International Humanitarian Fund established by democratic forces helped with financing. Then and now, significant support comes from the Italian foundation Fondazione casa di risparmio di Firenze.

From previous tenants, Yulia recalls, the housing came to the Belarusians empty and unfurnished. Furniture, household appliances, and other conveniences of civilization had to be sought on social media through ads offering free pickup. They were lucky to get a kitchen "in its entirety" from good people, the oven was "found at some old woman's," and some of the first furniture simply "fell apart from old age." Only over time, when funding arrived from the humanitarian fund, was everything necessary replaced and modernized.

Павялічыць

"We try to give Belarusians opportunities"

Yulia says that the idea of a refuge for Belarusians fleeing the regime came to her a long time ago — back in the autumn of 2024. Refugees arriving in Italy often found themselves searching for a roof over their heads:

"I couldn't place them anywhere. The first families I hosted — some lived at my home, some near churches. There was a man who lived on the street for about half a year; no one would take him in. We organized a collection [of money] for him, rented accommodation until he settled into a church, where he remains now."

Italy is the fourth most popular country in the EU for emigrants from Belarus. According to Eurostat data, by the end of 2024, 10.1 thousand Belarusians had residence permits here. Of these, 2950 arrived on the Apennine Peninsula after the events of 2020.

The shelter opened on December 9, 2025. From idea to implementation, it took a little over a year — according to the interviewee, this is "super fast" for Italy.

"Other associations spend at least two to three years. Everything is done very slowly here; Italians live a peaceful life," explains the Belarusian woman.

36-year-old Yulia Yukhno has been in Italy for four years. She has a musical education, experience working as a model and in tourism — as well as a life path familiar to tens of thousands of Belarusians after 2020.

Back in May of that year, she was fired from the Dana Mall shopping center for a political post on social media. When summer arrived, protest activity began. Together with her husband, the activist went through administrative arrests, a search followed by interrogation by the KGB, and a hasty departure from Belarus due to the threat of criminal prosecution.

Павялічыць

Her emigration began in Poland, and Yulia explains through her own example how Belarusians end up in the Apennines.

"Of course, Italy is not the country where a Belarusian would simply come and settle. There must be some prerequisites," she says.

In her case, there were several: back in Belarus, she studied Italian "for herself," then visited the country working as a model, and in emigration, after getting involved in diaspora work, she started traveling to Italy for international congresses.

In December 2022, Yulia became a representative of the "People's Embassy of Belarus in Italy." Soon after, she opened the "Talaka" association to provide various assistance to compatriots. At the end of 2025, she headed the Center for Belarusian Democratic Community in Florence — it was opened simultaneously with the shelter.

In all these areas, the interviewee notes, she doesn't work alone — a team of 12 people is active: "These are all people from Belarus. They live not only in Italy but also in other European countries." Remotely and in person, a dozen Belarusians help fellow emigrants not only with legalization but also with initial settlement, university admission, and other necessary matters.

"We work to ease the processes. I cannot say that we have achieved super heights, in the sense that a person arrives and we do everything for them here in five minutes – all documents, find a job, and they learn the language. No. But we try to give Belarusians opportunities," Yulia emphasizes.

"Jack of all trades" wants to return to Ukraine

Of the six places in the refuge, three are currently occupied: a married couple who avoids publicity due to fear of repression against relatives back home, and the open-to-communication former volunteer Illya.

The 54-year-old man has been in the shelter since day one. He feels at home, offers coffee, and gladly shows the rooms and interiors. Yulia calls Illya a "jack of all trades," implying that largely due to his volunteer efforts, the apartment transformed from "bare walls" to "move-in ready."

Illya's journey from Minsk to Tuscany stretched over five years. He covered this entire road in a "Volkswagen Transporter" minivan with Minsk license plates, which is still running — parked under the house in the garage.

For his participation in the 2020 protests, the man spent "days" in detention in Žodzina and in the capital at Akrestsin Street. In November 2021, he left for Lithuania, and a year later — for Ukraine, where he joined the "Kalinoutsy" — a volunteer regiment created by Belarusians immediately after the start of the full-scale Russian aggression.

Павялічыць

In the ranks of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, he transported ammunition and weapons in his "Volkswagen" to hot spots — Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia, Kramatorsk, Chasiv Yar. He was a driver for the medical evacuation service — with routes to the Bakhmut area. He served in the PKK "Volat" battalion, suffered a concussion, and underwent surgery.

One of the reasons to leave Ukraine was passport issues — the volunteer's passport was expiring.

"I started to inquire if there was an opportunity to apply for international protection in Italy. Yulia said there was. I decided to take advantage of that," says the man.

Illya has his own long-standing connection to Italy. He knows the language — he taught himself in his youth. In the 1990s, he transported schoolchildren from Belarus to recuperate in the Apennines. As a translator, he helped Italian parents adopt Belarusian children.

While his asylum application is being considered, Illya volunteers at the shelter.

"I'm not a passive participant; I try to help the guys and girls. Move furniture, assemble it... My tools have been traveling with me since my time in Belarus. It's wonderful that a shelter has appeared, a much-needed place," notes the ex-Kalinouets.

He hopes to "get some papers" and "go back to Ukraine." He says with certainty: "The war will be long. I could still realize myself there."

Павялічыць

"There is no goal to accept all Belarusians in the world"

The Italian shelter is a new place in the ecosystem of refuges for Belarusians. The largest ones are located in Lithuania and Poland. In Warsaw, a shelter run by Hanna Fiodaronak has been operating since 2021. In Vilnius, Natallia Kaliehava's "Zamak" (Castle) has been working for 4.5 years. Also in the Lithuanian capital, the "Country for Life" foundation hosts repressed individuals.

The Italian shelter has no specific coordination with its Polish-Lithuanian "brothers." The rules for accepting residents also differ. While in Poland and Lithuania, one person's stay is usually calculated for 60 days, in Tuscany, according to Yulia, "the contract provides for a nine-month stay."

"There isn't a huge flow, but there's also no goal to accept all Belarusians in the world. Our task is to help within our capabilities. To house a person — and during that time, to get their documents for legalization sorted," explains the Belarusian woman.

Sharing her current concerns, she says that there is still no internet in the shelter, that "some things are still not fully purchased," and hopes that over time, the refuge will be able to be included in the state funding system.

Павялічыць

Periodically distracted by calls, switching from Italian back to Belarusian and Russian, Yulia talks about various things.

How she is currently organizing another Italian vacation for emigrant families with children. That the shelter is preparing for a new resident to move in. That in today's turbulent world, Italians know very little about what is happening in Belarus, so "keeping the agenda" is very difficult — but if this is not done, then "practically all doors" here could close for Belarusians.

"I know why I opened the shelter," notes the Belarusian woman, sitting in the furnished kitchen with a view of a quiet street.

She is confident that "people will come," and that without established support, it will be difficult for them — ex-political prisoners, refugees from persecution, and their children, who are far from politics — to navigate the complex path of legalization in Italy and start a new life.

"I believe in what I do. I understand that people need this. My goal is to help them prepare for an independent life in a new country," concludes the interviewee.

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