Why are thousands of Polish immigrants attracted to Ireland? Derek Scally reports from Pila on a family divided, and, below, Daniel McLaughlin in Warsaw reports on why doctors find they're especially welcome here.
Every street tells a tale and no exception is Switez Street in the small town of Pila, 400km (250 miles) north-west of Warsaw. The story of Switez Street at the moment is one of unemployment and emigration.
"Our street isn't a long street but five people from here have left in the past year. Three for Ireland, one to England and one to Scotland," says Kamila Szalowska. "Everyone knows someone who's left."
In Kamila's case it's her husband, Artur Szalowski. He departed for Dublin last November, leaving her behind with their seven-year-old son Adas. Artur didn't make it home for Christmas because he had to work, but he finally visited a month ago.
"It was one of the happiest moments of my life coming back to my home," says Artur in his apartment in Rathmines, Dublin. "I'd hoped that at least some of my friends would say 'we're waiting for you to come back'.
"Unfortunately most of them said I'd done the right thing and that they were thinking of doing the same. 'Stay there as long as you can,' they told me. It's really sad."
Nearly 41,000 Poles - almost as many people as live in Waterford city - have made the 2,000km (1,240-mile) journey to Ireland in the year since EU accession. Poles make up nearly half of the applicants for Personal Public Service (PPS) numbers, driven by 18 per cent unemployment at home in search of work in Ireland and Britain, the only EU states not to impose a seven-year work ban after accession .
On paper, the Polish economy is booming with growth twice the euro zone average. But away from big cities such as Warsaw, times are tough and emigration is a simple reality.
The drive to Artur's home in Pila is like a trip through the Irish countryside that tourists don't find any more. Roadside statues of Our Lady pop up every few kilometres and farm outhouses have familiar whitewashed walls and rust-coloured corrugated iron roofs. Even the locals' directions have a feel of rural Ireland: "Take a left, then a right, then another right and then ask someone."
Pila has a population of 70,000 and lies just 10km (six miles) from the pre-war German-Polish border. The nearest city is Poznan, located halfway between Warsaw and Berlin. A German garrison stationed in the town during the war meant Pila was 70 per cent destroyed by advancing Soviet troops.
Hasty rebuilding has left Pila a mishmash of old and new, undistinguished post-war apartment blocks, some with peeling paint and others painted bright pastel colours in an effort to cheer them up. There are seven Catholic churches and 10 supermarkets, with another two superstores on the way. Under the bridge that leads into town, beside the overgrown train tracks, is a deserted-looking Irish pub.
Kamila sits with her parents and her sister-in-law Eva in the living room of her parents' house, where she lives with her son Adas. The room is filled with huge plants, heavy furniture and a clock in a corner chiming the passing hours. Over the door, Pope John Paul II looks down on the room from a large brass medal.
"I missed Artur a lot, we'd been waiting to see each other for five months," says Kamila of their recent 12-day reunion. "Artur's a family man, I don't think he will feel at ease until we go to Dublin."
The couple talk every day on the phone and face a difficult choice in the coming months. Since Artur left, Kamila found a job working for the local authority development agency preparing applications for EU structural funds. But Adas has to start school this year, so Kamila and Artur have to decide whether his first day will be in Pila or in Dublin.
"Even if Artur found a job here it would be badly paid. If he stayed in Ireland for three or four years we could save money to live comfortably here without worries and start a business," she says.
Unemployment in Pila is close to the Polish national average of 18 per cent. The biggest local employer, with 3,000 workers, is a lighting factory owned by Philips, where Artur worked for a time. The average Polish salary is around 2,000 zloty (€475) a month but office workers in the Philips factory earn half that if they don't have a degree.
Robert, Artur's younger brother, has considered emigrating as well. He worked as a truck driver until his employer went bankrupt without paying him. He worked as a taxi driver but couldn't make ends meet and is now starting his own driving school. His wife, Eva, complains that there is little encouragement for entrepreneurs in Poland: training is expensive and the start-up costs are prohibitive, with social security payments of 48 per cent on salaries due monthly from the first day of business, even if you have no customers.
Eva is a hairdresser but cannot find work. The couple has a three-year-old daughter and Eva collects unemployment benefit and children's allowance worth a total of €117 a month. To put it in perspective, she says she spends the equivalent of €24 a month on milk while the weekly food bill for a family of three is €48. In the past years, salaries have remained steady or risen slowly while the cost of living has exploded.
"We've got western prices and eastern salaries," remarks Halina Gesick, Kamila's mother. "It's difficult to believe how people survive, you just have to be economical."
Artur has been living as economically as he can in Dublin for the past five months. Before he came here he was working as a music producer and had built up his own studio over seven years, but was unable to find enough work and closed it down. After a year of research and discussions with his wife he left Pila and drove to Dublin, a journey of two and a half days.
"I came here by car because I wanted to feel more secure with a roof over my head. It was supposed to be my home for a few days and it was, for two days," he says. He worked in Argos before Christmas, then he got a job in customer care at the Dundrum Town Centre, one of about 100 Poles working there.
"We both knew it was a very hard decision but we both have seen that there could be a chance for us," he says."Perhaps it's worth it to suffer for now because something good could come of it later. Kamila was completely supportive of this decision and she still is."
But the decision has brought huge sacrifices, particularly for their son, Adas.
"Adas cried sometimes without reason when Artur left," says Kamila. "The kindergarten teacher complained about his behaviour too. We have to do something soon to solve the problem; either Artur comes back here or we go there."
"Or you buy a private plane," remarks her father drily.
Their neighbour Maria Chrustek drops by. Her two sons Damian (27) and Piotr (22), are also working in Ireland. Damian left last June with his fiancee and some friends and Piotr followed later. They all went to Galway and started working in a bar making hot dogs until they got construction jobs. Damian's fiancee is working in a clothes shop.
Maria has problems of her own after she was forced to close her tailor's shop in Pila. Her sons telephone regularly with all the news, but it's clear that she is waiting for them to come home.
"I think they will come home in two to three years but it will probably take them longer," she says.
Kamila's father, Eugeniusz, has worked abroad in Sweden and the US and is philosophical about the emigration wave to Ireland. He says the young Poles will gather work experience abroad and return home with their earnings to boost the Polish economy. He speaks proudly of the strong Polish work ethic, already making itself felt in Ireland, and Polish industriousness which survived the communist era.
"Poles work hard and work fast. When they're well paid and get recognition they become really committed workers."
He says things are slowly improving in Pila. The university of Poznan is opening a department soon in the town, and an Irish-owned company, Ardagh Glass, has taken over a glass factory in the neighbouring town, securing 350 jobs.
"We've survived worse times, why should we complain?" he says.
"You can't complain all the time, you have to do something now," agrees his wife, Halina. "It's amazing that Ireland opened its borders to Poles. It was a very nice surprise that took a lot of courage."
Eugeniusz adds: "We also have long memories and we won't forget who gave us a helping hand first."
Even on the train back to Berlin, the talk is of working in Ireland. Eva Theis from the city of Lodz has a brother who worked for five months until Easter near Dublin as a painter, earning €1,500 a month. He came back to Poland when the work dried up but wants to return again to work for another six months.
"He wants to save up and with the money he can buy a small apartment for his daughter and give her a better future," says Eva.
For Poles, all roads lead to Ireland, but Artur Szalowski is growing more certain that his long-term future is in Pila, despite the current challenges.
"There is a feeling that there is no chance to change anything within our lifetime in Poland," he says. "Still, I have to come back one day and I will. Probably it will be a matter of a few years. Pila is my home, my family, my memories, my everything. I cannot leave this forever."
