Poles' 22-hour commute pays off - illegally - in EU

Every Friday morning, hundreds of people line up in this rural northeastern town to board buses for a 22-hour ride across Europe.

Their destination: Belgium, where they will work illegally in wealthy households, on farms, and in construction groups in and around Brussels, the capital of the European Union.

While Poland won't join the EU until May, obscure little Siemiatycze (Shem-yah-TIH-cheh) is already closely tied to the EU economy. At least a fourth of the 16,000 population now makes the journey to Brussels.

They and thousands of other illegal laborers from the east are quietly altering the EU's landscape even before the political and economic union expands. Whether politicians like it or not, these shuttle migrants are Europe's new labor movement.

Irene, a petite blonde from Siemiatycze, is among them. She has commuted to Brussels by bus for the past 11 years, where she cleans houses for six to seven Belgian families each week. She has helped her sister, sister-in-law and niece find similar jobs in the capital. She doesn't reveal her last name, fearing authorities will track her down.

"It's a job, just like any other," Irene says, shrugging. "One of my clients even called me while I was in Poland to tell me the grocery list for this week."

"You won't find a family here that doesn't have an [immediate] member or a cousin working in Belgium," says Marek Malinowski, an editor at Glos Siemiatycz, the local weekly newspaper. "There are so few jobs here that it's understandable why people would go."

Once in Belgium, Poles rely on an elaborate underground network that includes its own virtual job exchange, doctors, dentists, shops, and a postal system - the latter run by minivans, which offer next-day delivery in either country.

Seeing the potential for a larger invasion of cheap labor from Eastern Europe once new member states from that region join, the EU bloc has voted to prohibit labor migration from those countries for up to seven years.

Yet "illegally or legally, the new member states that will join next May already form a part of the EU's work force," admits Christian Klos, a member of the Immigration and Asylum Unit in the EU Commission's Directorate for General Justice and Home Affairs. "People from accession countries [are] already coming here for work under the guise of tourism."

Most of the Polish commuters do not try to legalize their stays in Belgium. Given the three-month limit for tourists from Poland, shuttlers often take along just a small suitcase or handbag, perhaps carrying a package for relatives or friends in the capital.

Currently, just 2,120 Polish citizens are registered as Brussels residents.

But Elzbieta Kuzma, a researcher on illegal immigration at Université libre de Bruxelles (ULB), estimates that 35,000 Poles, the vast majority from the country's northeast, live and work there. The proof of their presence is down at Brussels' Les Abattoirs market, where Belgian butchers sell kielbasa and other popular Polish sausages. Ethnic food markets (also run by Belgians) cater to the eastern immigrants' tastes with fresh sour cream, dumplings, teas and candies, all imported from Poland.

Some experts see advantages for both sides of Europe in the Poles' peregrinations. Without undocumented workers, "many Belgian mothers wouldn't be able to work or have careers," stresses Joanna Apap, a researcher at the Center for European Policy Studies in Brussels. "Much of Brussels wouldn't be built. A whole sector of the economy wouldn't be here," she says, adding, "Most of Western Europe secretly knows these immigrants are necessary to fuel the economy."

When they go back home, the Poles transform their hometowns with their earnings. In Siemiatycze, shiny Mercedes whiz down the same roads as dusty Fiats. Designer dress shops, a Levi's jeans store, and a new hotel and restaurant welcome customers in the town's center.

A bit outside town, on a hill near the scenic Bug River, a neighborhood some locals refer to as "Little Belgium" is fast expanding. Brightly painted two- and three-story houses line the street. Many grounds have landscaped gardens and wide garages. On others, construction workers hammer away at frames of new homes.

It's a stark contrast to neighboring towns, where wooden shacks and jalopies line the streets. Siemiatycze's jobless rate is just 7.8 percent - less than half the national average and well below the regional one. The Brussels contingent is overwhelmingly responsible for the difference.

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