My name is Victoria Maruhina (Hincu), and this is my story—a journey shaped by resilience, hardship, and a deep determination to make a difference. It is the story behind the VM Foundation DAO: a movement born from personal experience, created to fight against homelessness, protect pet welfare, stand up to corruption and bullying, and address the failures within support systems that leave too many people behind.
At the age of 24, I made the bold decision to migrate to Ireland with my family. I was a single mother of two young children—a newborn and a toddler—responsible for their future and wellbeing. As the sole provider, I worked tirelessly to build a life from the ground up in a country that was foreign to me.
Now, for 25 years, I am proudly calling Ireland my home and hold Irish citizenship. Moldovan by birth and Russian by heritage, I, like many others who have relocated to other countries, have embraced Ireland with gratitude and love.
In Ireland, I balanced the demands of raising my children alone with building a professional life from scratch. I worked as a freelance interpreter, specializing in immigration, asylum, and refugee services, and even established an agency in this field, which I later closed. Driven by entrepreneurial spirit, I launched a wholesale business importing Moldovan wines and spirits under the brand V&P Irish Line—VIP Irish Line Drinks—a name I created to reflect premium quality and future plans for local Irish production. The brand concept was born at Riga Airport, graphically developed in Moldova, and finalized by a student in Ireland. My vision included producing herbal-extracted spirits in Ireland. Eventually, the brand evolved into Vittora, a tribute to my family's deep-rooted winemaking traditions.
Despite these accomplishments, the journey was far from easy. I faced bullying, cultural isolation, and the crushing weight of being entirely alone in a foreign land. Strangers came to my home, threatened me, made phone calls, and demanded to know who was behind my business. Let me be clear: every aspect of that company—from registration and under-bond licensing to contracts, production, branding, sales, and logistics—was handled by me, with no outside support and entirely self-funded.
When I turned to the authorities, including the Gardaí, nothing was done. It seemed too uncomfortable for others to acknowledge that I, a foreign woman, was being targeted and undermined simply for building something of my own. I was told, “Who the f*** do you think you are to open such a business in our country?” No one stepped in to help. Everyone looked away.
And yet, I kept going. I held my head high, determined to move forward. While people my age were enjoying nights out at clubs and bars, I was working and raising my children alone.
Eventually, I made the painful decision to walk away. I accepted the reality that I was alone—a foreigner with no powerful connections, no one to defend me. So I closed the company. I had created something from nothing, and I chose to let it go rather than surrender it to those who demanded it from me. I would not allow my work to be taken.
To cope with life’s challenges, I returned to my roots—my passions for aromatherapy, herbalism, and handcrafted cosmetics. I launched a brand called Toria, which started as a hobby but quickly brought joy to others. I dreamed of turning it into a full business. After a successful marketing campaign, I sought financial support from a local enterprise but refused.
Rather than give up, I decided to keep the business on hold, rebuild my finances, and try again. I accepted a position at Microsoft, working in my field as a Sanctions Analyst in Trade Compliance. Unfortunately, the pandemic and ongoing financial pressures forced me to pause my progress once more.
Then life took a devastating turn: I became homeless for the first time in my life. With no assistance and no options left, I was forced to leave my rented home. For four long months—during the coldest part of the year—I lived in my car with my two loyal dogs, Charlie and Bella.
The Gardaí in Lucan, Dublin, often checked on us and offered a sense of safety during those dark nights. For that, I remain deeply grateful. Eventually, I found temporary accommodation in Northern Ireland that allowed dogs. But by then, my health had severely declined. I was constantly sick, battling bilateral pneumonia and weakened immunity caused by the harsh conditions of “car life.” It took time to recover.
When I tried to return to Dublin in search of better job opportunities, I faced an impossible barrier: no rental would accept my dogs. Charlie and Bella have been with me since they were just five weeks old. Now approaching 10 and 11, they have stood by me through every hardship. They are not just pets—they are family. Anyone who truly understands the bond between a human and an animal will understand why I refused to part with them, even if it would have made finding housing easier.
Eventually, I found a room to rent in Baldoyle, Dublin—but that hope quickly turned to despair. I unknowingly entered a toxic living environment, where I once again faced bullying, threats, and discrimination. I was told, once more, that I was “just a foreigner” with “no rights.” After an unlawful physical eviction, I went to the Gardaí to file a report, but they refused to take my statement, saying, “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
I asked them, “If I pay nearly €1,000 a month for a room, do I not deserve the same legal protection as anyone else?”
I sought help from every avenue: RTB, Threshold, the Gardaí, and IRES (the landlord of the house). All of them told me the same thing—I was not legally protected—and then I was ignored.
On the day of the eviction, the Gardaí were called five times but never came. There was property damage, trespassing, physical and verbal abuse, and defamation—all because I asked when my lease would be ready. The landlord, fully aware that I had been living there, also chose to stay silent.
Once again, I became homeless—this time living between my car and occasional sofa-surfing, beginning on August 7th, 2024. I received no support from the State departments or organizations that are meant to help people in crisis or protect human rights. I wrote to every possible authority: Senators, TDs, the Minister for Housing, the Tánaiste, the Taoiseach, Fingal County Council—yet the result was always the same: silence or deflection.
There was endless paperwork, endless promises—but no real help. The only consistent message I received was that my dogs were the problem. As one Fingal County Council official told me, “You are on your own.”
I won’t list every letter or department I contacted, but I can say this: I have witnessed parts of the Irish system that left me speechless—particularly in how it treats its own citizens, and especially those who are vulnerable or without connections.
In Ireland I was considered over the threshold to qualify for a council house, yet not eligible for a mortgage as a single parent. That left me with only one option—renting. And even that became impossible.
I never took my money out of Ireland. I built my life here. This is my home—just as millions of Irish people have made homes around the world.
But something deeper stirred in me. What I experienced—what I continue to see—I believe is rooted in corruption and nationalism. It was this realization that pushed me to speak out and build something of my own: a project that exposes these injustices and works toward real solutions.
I won’t go into all the details here, but I felt the grip of corruption not just in business, but also in what happened with the room I rented in Baldoyle—and in the responses of State departments and organizations I had previously worked with. It felt as though a message was being sent: that I was being taught a lesson, that I didn’t belong here.
I gave my physical health to this country—my spine is damaged from years of work—and after 25 years in Ireland, I call it home. That’s why I chose to stay and fight for my rights, even when I was repeatedly told I had none.
Seeking justice against corruption and favouritism in high places is almost impossible in Ireland, where nepotism and inside connections are often overlooked, especially if it is done among Irish against a foreigner. I faced this and not afraid to speak openly. So I decided to go international—to raise my voice and ask the global community for help.
I have no intention of dying on the streets of Dublin.
As foreigners, we don’t have fathers, mothers, brothers, or cousins sitting in powerful positions—ready to make a phone call to silence a problem or protect a relative’s interests. We don’t have that kind of safety net. Instead, we’re often left to bang our heads against closed doors while smiling faces turn their backs—or worse, stab us behind them.
How many foreigners are in the Dáil? How many serve as Senators or TDs? How many hold senior roles in State departments or public organizations?
When we struggle, who do we call? Who speaks for us?
This journey revealed the deep cracks in Ireland’s support systems—inefficiency, corruption, and blatant favouritism. As a registered homeless person, I received no meaningful assistance. I was ignored. I had to beg for a simple letter, chase Fingal County Council’s Homeless Section for seven months, and write to nearly every TD and Senator just to be acknowledged in the system.
Bureaucracy, layered with judgment and indifference from those meant to help, made it nearly impossible to move forward. I contacted every name on the Oireachtas list, including the Housing Minister, Taoiseach, and Tánaiste—yet nothing changed.
At one point, I received a response from the Minister for Housing or his cabinet stating: “I am not dealing with people, I care to build houses.”
To that, I ask: if houses are being built, where are they? Why aren’t they available on the market? Are they truly for people—or are they for corporations?
And how many landlords sit in the Dáil? Isn’t that a conflict of interest when drafting laws that govern landlord-tenant relationships?
How is it acceptable that rent for a one-bedroom apartment equals—or even exceeds—the minimum monthly wage? How are people expected to survive?
If corporations are the future of the housing market, then why are pets still a problem? Why are children viewed as obstacles when applying to rent? Why are prices so outrageously high, yet the conditions so poor?
People who are paying their entire salary for a place to live—or are crammed like rats into a single room—deserve the right to live with dignity. With their children. With their pets. With flowers, books, and peace of mind.
This system doesn’t just need small improvements—it needs real change.
Homelessness is not just the absence of a roof—it is a deeply emotional and psychological experience. The stereotypes attached to it are often cruel and false.
Contrary to what many assume, I do not smoke (I’ve never tried), I do not use drugs (never once), and I do not drink alcohol—my body reacts badly to it, and I only ever tolerated a glass of wine on rare occasions.
I live a health-conscious, informed life. My situation is not the result of addiction or personal failure. It is the result of systemic failings, corruption, and bullying—real issues that can affect anyone, whether local or foreign.
After everything I’ve experienced, I can say with certainty: Ireland’s homelessness crisis is not just about housing shortages. The deeper issue lies in the human factor—something few are willing to talk about.
Perhaps people are too afraid to speak up. Perhaps they view the officials deciding their fate as untouchable, like gods.
I understand that fear. I understand the atmosphere here. But I see things differently. I believe in God—the one true God—but He does not walk this Earth.
As for me, I have nothing left to lose. Everything was taken from me. That’s why I speak out.
That’s why I chose to go public—to speak out about the things no one wants to say aloud. My experience in Baldoyle was a turning point. The injustice and anger I felt pushed me to share my full story.
When you face a problem alone, you’re often ignored. But by sharing it publicly—especially on an international level—I hope to reach people and organizations who truly care.
When someone is in crisis, their world shifts. They search for answers—and often, for someone to blame. During the 2007 recession, foreigners were blamed. Today, we’re facing similar challenges, and once again, fingers point outward.
But what if we questioned the institutions responsible? What if we acknowledged their inefficiency? What if we restructured the system instead of scapegoating people?
It’s time we rose together, not against each other.
Julius Caesar once said: Divide and conquer. But we must not fall for that statement. Whether local or foreign, we all live on this island together—and only together we can build something better.
After recovering my health, I took the first job that was offered to me. I was ready to work. But the salary I received was the same as the rent for a one-bedroom apartment—an outrageous reality in today’s Ireland.
And yet, I lost that job too. I was “taught a lesson,” it seems—punished for daring to speak out. In a system where long arms protect wrongdoing, people like me are expected to stay silent.
Despite everything I’ve endured over the past 25 years in Ireland, I don’t point fingers at the whole country. Every nation has its “black sheep,” and I was simply unlucky to cross paths with a few of them.
But some people showed me kindness—people to whom I owe a great deal. When I first arrived in Ireland, James Donegan and his wife, Diphna, offered me support without ever asking for anything in return.
I’m not good at expressing gratitude or emotion. I’ve always kept things to myself. But to them, from the deepest part of my heart and soul, I will be grateful for the rest of my life.
Despite everything I’ve faced, my mind kept searching for solutions. So I decided to create something different—a space where there is no discrimination based on nationality, background, gender, or status. A place where people can speak freely, contribute openly, and be part of something bigger.
That space is Web3 and blockchain—a realm where corruption hasn’t yet taken root. It’s here that the VM Foundation DAO was born: a decentralized platform where people from around the world can come together, be heard, and build real change as part of a global community.
My experiences led me to create the VM Foundation DAO—a movement that addresses the root causes of homelessness, pet welfare neglect, bullying, and corruption. These problems may never be fully eliminated, but we can clear the path and support those who are struggling.
At the heart of this initiative is the All-in-One Hub: a centralized support platform offering real assistance to individuals and families, including those with pets. Whether it’s legal aid, access to housing, or advocacy with local authorities, all services will be offered under one roof.
This Hub will communicate directly with State Departments and agencies on behalf of individuals, so no one has to relive their trauma by repeating the same story to multiple departments or filling out endless forms.
It’s a model built on compassion, efficiency, and equal treatment—designed to replace fragmentation with true, unified support.
The second core element of the Foundation is the Social Club—a networking hub for individuals, entrepreneurs, and changemakers who are committed to social impact. It will foster collaboration, support ethical startups, and amplify collective efforts for change.
The VM Foundation DAO is not just for Ireland—it is an international organization. It will stand for those around the world who are battling corruption, facing business-related bullying, or being ignored by the very systems meant to protect them.
Whether it’s human rights, pet welfare, or simply needing someone to listen, this DAO will be a place to turn. A place where no one has to feel alone in their struggle.
The VM Foundation DAO is no longer just a personal project—it is a global movement. My vision is to build a team of compassionate, ethical professionals who operate free from favouritism or judgment. Together, we will help individuals reclaim their independence and dignity, and support businesses that are struggling or left without advocates.
Not everyone has a sibling in power—or a sibling at all—but everyone deserves support, no matter where they live.
As a non-profit, the DAO will be sustained through multiple revenue streams to ensure long-term impact. One of the first tools we’re using is VMTcoin—a token I created to fund the initiative. I’ve also designed NFTs based on the physical products I’ve built over the years. These digital tools form part of the broader VM Foundation DAO ecosystem.
I am currently seeking a Board of Directors—dedicated professionals in fields such as homelessness, housing, social welfare, human rights, marketing, legal affairs, IT, and blockchain. Together, we will lay the foundation for this initiative and build a strong, values-driven community.
A community that stands up for both people and pets in crisis. A community that helps others rise when they’ve been knocked down.
This is not just my story—it is a call to action. Homelessness, corruption, inefficiency, and negligence are not immovable forces. With the right people and the right approach, real change is possible—and long overdue.
I don’t judge people by skin colour, language, religion, or origin. I welcome anyone who lives by principles and values rooted in respect, truth, and humanity.
There are many things I cannot go into detail about, but to everyone who was part of this journey—good or bad—I say thank you. You made me stronger. You taught me to walk through fire with my dignity intact.
And to those who tried to tear me down: you helped me become better, more skilled, and more determined. If not for you, I might never have learned how to build NFTs, how to work with blockchain, or how to design a digital currency. You helped give life to the VM Foundation DAO—by trying to silence me.
You also taught me how to say one powerful word: No.
I also call on politicians and decision-makers to step forward—those who recognize the urgent need for systemic reform and compassionate support for individuals and their families, pets included.
Why is it still acceptable in 2025 to deny help to someone simply because they have pets? I was told my two house-trained dogs were a problem, and for that reason alone, I was refused assistance.
That’s why I chose to sleep in my car. I couldn’t abandon them—they are my family. Maybe it sounds strange to some, but to me, you don’t leave loved ones behind in a storm.
Life is unpredictable. We must learn to face it together, not by discarding the beings who give us strength.
For years, I refused my youngest child’s request for a dog, knowing I didn’t have the time or energy a pet requires. But when I finally brought one into our home, they became family. And once they’re family, they stay for life.
Landlords need to understand this. The law should reflect it, too.
Without my dogs, I’m not sure I would have had the strength to endure all I’ve been through. They grounded me, helped me escape through walks and play, and gave me peace when I needed it most. Pets—of any kind—offer emotional connection and psychological support that no system can replace.
I am building this project while sleeping in my car with my dogs, and occasionally sofa surfing. Every part of this movement—VMTcoin, the NFTs, the website, social media, designs, products, labels, and the book I’ve written—has been done by me, alone. It is all original and protected, including the concept of the VM Foundation DAO, the All-in-One Hub, VMSC, and VMTcoin.
I hope to be heard. I hope to be understood. And I hope to be supported.
If I sound harsh at times, it’s not from anger—it’s from truth. I’ve met both good and bad people along this journey. But my story is, above all, about change. Change that starts with me—and I offer it now to others and make it together.
Introducing the Vision: VM Foundation DAO, VMTcoin, and the Power of NFTs
The VM Foundation DAO was not born in a boardroom—it was born from lived experience, survival, and the urgent need to fix what’s broken. While the story behind its creation is deeply personal, the tools built to carry that vision forward are grounded in innovation, strategy, and global scalability.
At the heart of this mission is VMTcoin, a purpose-driven utility token designed to fund, fuel, and empower the DAO’s ecosystem. It’s not just a currency—it’s a key. VMTcoin will support operations, enable access to services, and rewards contributors within the VM Foundation’s network. Its circulation sustains both the digital and physical arms of the movement: from legal aid and housing advocacy to community-driven projects and pet-friendly welfare solutions.
Complementing the token is the VM NFT ecosystem, which bridges creativity and impact. Each NFT is more than a digital asset—it represents a story, a product, a value. NFTs are tied to physical handcrafted items like wellness products / wines / books/cosmetics / pet's spas/ candles, unlock perks, royalties from sales profits, funding channels, or membership access. Every NFT contributes to building the DAO’s All-in-One Hub—one step closer to a world where no one is left behind. It also helps to re-scale the production of handpicked and crafted wines and handcrafted cosmetics and wellness products, the same as pet spa products.
The DAO is a decentralized autonomous organization committed to equality, transparency, and action. It exists to unite people who’ve fallen through the cracks and those willing to help them rise. Whether you’re an activist, a developer, an investor, or believe in fairness, VM Foundation DAO offers a place to contribute meaningfully.
Together, these tools form a self-sustaining model of compassion and empowerment—built not just for Ireland, but for anyone, anywhere, who has ever needed help and been told no.
To support, build with me, and be a part of it. Follow the links. Businesses and individuals are invited alike to participate and stand together for a change.
If my story speaks to you, I invite you to connect with me. You can reach me on LinkedIn, by email at maruhinavictoria@gmail.com or via WhatsApp at +353 83 439 2609 or on social media Twitter @victoriamaruhin Telegram @victoriamaruhina75 Instagram @victoriamaruhina or Opensea for an NFT https://opensea.io/profile/victoriamaruhina, VMTcoin to trade on Pancakeswap, contract address
https://bscscan.com/address/0x6b4023110B3aEad1dbd0B13fB7429eb756adBE30
Victoria Maruhina (Hincu)
