The dismissed migrant worker ends up in the forest

Aghata (48) from Warsaw is in tears. She is sitting in front of the tent where she lives with her boyfriend Boguslaw (62), under a viaduct between The Hague and Scheveningen. The sail is cut open at the front. On the floor are loose rolls of toilet paper, opened suitcases, dozens of perfume testers and even more trinkets. “Normally we keep it tidy here,” she says apologetically. “But someone has plundered our tent.”

Aghata is one of dozens of homeless migrant workers who live off and on in a tent in the Scheveningse Bosjes near The Hague. Previously, they often worked in greenhouses in the Westland, in the meat industry or at distribution centers. Most became homeless after losing their jobs. The employer is often also the landlord; if the migrant worker is fired, he or she also loses his or her place to live. Last year, an estimated 3,000 migrant workers were homeless in the Netherlands, according to the Barka Foundation, which helps this group.

Forest ranger

Migrant workers are more often the subject of discussion these elections. Rutte IV’s cabinet fell this summer after coalition parties failed to agree on measures to reduce asylum migration. This century, however, twice as many labor migrants as asylum seekers came to the Netherlands. The number of migrant workers in the Netherlands has quadrupled in the last fifteen years.

In their election manifestos, the majority of parties talk about measures to reduce labor migration. Many parties also cite the housing shortage and poor living conditions of migrant workers as a reason for this. For example, the VVD writes that migrant workers “too often live under poor conditions, with many crammed together in spaces that are too small”, and GroenLinks-PvdA states that “labor migration puts extra pressure on the shortage of affordable housing”.

Once a week, ranger Hans van Popering and aid worker Natalia Grad drive past homeless migrant workers in the Scheveningse Bosjes. Thanks to his weekly rounds through the forest, Van Popering knows exactly where they stay. The reporter rides along to meet migrant workers who have become homeless after losing their jobs. The ranger and the rescuer warn: a large group remains out of view.

Grad works for Barka, an originally Polish foundation that helps homeless migrant workers in the Netherlands. Together with Van Popering, she brings woolen scarves and hats to the forest on a Tuesday afternoon in October.

Ring

Aghata dries her tears with the scarf. The night before, she and her boyfriend Boguslaw were away for a few hours to visit the soup bus for the homeless before dinner, she says in Polish. Grad, who also speaks Polish, translates. “I think they were other homeless migrant workers,” says Aghata. She keeps half-smoked butts in a pack of tobacco. She lights one up. “They heard that I have a precious ring. They wanted to steal it.”

Aghata shows the ring. Silver colored with a stone on it. It’s a diamond, she says. Worth two thousand euros. She found the ring on the street two months ago. She never takes it off because she is waiting for Boguslaw to qualify for a liver transplant. Then she will sell the ring to help pay for the operation and his recovery. Boguslaw has cirrhosis of the liver; scarring of the liver. Possibly due to excessive alcohol consumption. “I’m going to stop drinking after the operation,” he says.

Many homeless migrant workers are addicted, Grad says. If she visits them in the woods, chances are they are under the influence of alcohol or drugs. “Their stories are therefore sometimes difficult to follow and can seem unbelievable. But it is important that someone listens to the stories.”

Employment agencies

At the next stop, Van Popering says: “I discovered this tent last week. But I haven’t met anyone at home yet.” A line of wax hangs between two trees – according to Van Popering, a sign that the tent is inhabited. “Hello?” he calls. If there is no response, he opens the tent. Empty. “I know you can’t just enter someone’s home. But I fear that one day I will find someone dead in a tent. That’s why I do it anyway.”

Forest ranger Hans van Popering.

The tent is covered with branches and ivy. To not stand out, Van Popering thinks. He also advises homeless migrant workers to camouflage their tents, because it is officially not allowed to sleep in the forest. Van Popering tolerates what he sees. “Housing is a right,” he says. “If you as a government cannot achieve that, you should not hand out fines to people who sleep on the street.”

In the ten years that Van Popering has been in contact with homeless migrant workers through his work, their condition has hardly improved, he says. He notices that employment agencies are not well prepared when they allow migrant workers to come to the Netherlands. “They bring people here en masse to do low-paid work,” he says, “without housing being properly arranged.” Van Popering closes the empty tent again. Grad puts down a scarf and hat.

Knee surgery

A few hundred meters away, two men and a woman sit in a circle under a tarpaulin stretched between tree branches. They drink coffee. Tea lights burn in holders. There are three tents around them.

The 48-year-old Magdalena and Jacek are old lovers, they say. In Poland they have a 27-year-old daughter together. Nowadays they are just friends. In December last year, Magdalena was suddenly fired, according to her because her boss’ mistress was jealous of her. “First I was able to get a place in the winter shelter for the homeless,” she says. “When that closed I went to Jacek.”

Jacek then lived in a house in a holiday park with other migrant workers through his job as an order picker in a warehouse. His fellow residents did not want Magdalena to move in with them, he says. So they left for the forest together.

Leszek and Jacek are sitting near their tent.

A few months later, Jacek found 39-year-old Leszek from Krajenka, Poland, on a bench in the city center. He took him to his place in the forest. Leszek lost his job and home after he was beaten up by two men wearing balaclavas, he says. Both knees were broken after the attack. “The UWV has said that I can only work after knee surgery.”

All three would like to go back to work, but for that it is necessary to have a home first, they say. “I can’t imagine getting up in the morning,” says Jacek, “and leaving for work from my tent, without my own shower and kitchen.”

The fact that they find their own home before they have work is almost a utopian thought, Grad says later, in their absence. There are simply not enough homes. “The fastest way to find a home is to apply for a job that includes accommodation. But it is difficult for them to continue with a smile and send out a CV.”

Family members

Barka sometimes advises homeless migrant workers who can no longer find a job to return to their country of origin, says aid worker Larisa Melinceanu later on the phone. For example, because they can no longer work due to their addiction, or because it proves too difficult to find their way in the Dutch system because they have low literacy. “They can at least claim their social rights in the country of origin. Most people I speak to have not worked in the Netherlands long enough for this.”

Barka helps those who want to return. Before departure, care providers ensure that the person has friends or family members to go to. If the person no longer has that, he or she can contact a community of Barka care providers. “The social system in those countries is admittedly less good than in the Netherlands,” says Melinceanu. “But returning is often better than the situation they are in now.”

Even better would be to prevent this altogether, Melinceanu believes. According to her, employment agencies must therefore invest more time in the selection procedure. “It often happens now that they let someone who is not fit come to the Netherlands for work that requires a lot of energy. For example, as an order picker you have to walk up and down all day long.” If it turns out that the employee is unable to do this, he or she will be fired and lose the home.

And so they often end up in the forest. Some people get used to that, says Grad. According to her, it seems as if life in the forest is a ‘state of mind’. “There are migrant workers in the shelter who will eventually miss life in the forest. One of them once told me that she does not have to be ashamed of her situation. Because in the forest everyone is equal.”