on the border with Belarus, a long wall poses one more danger on the exiles’ route

Every day, Husam leaves the shelter and walks several kilometers in a town in eastern Poland. Four months ago, the young Yemeni tried three times to enter Poland from Belarus, crossing a metal barrier 5.5 meters high and 186 km long planted at the border. “We saw several people fall,” relates the exile with long black hair, showing a scar on his wrist, the after-effect of the barbed wire. On his fourth attempt, and with the help of a makeshift ladder, Husam was finally able to jump without being repelled by the Polish forces.

This wall, erected in less than a year facing migratory movements exploited by Belarus, is at the heart of the legislative elections in Poland, Sunday October 15. That same day, the ultraconservative Law and Justice (PiS) party in power is organizing a referendum relating in particular to migration. A way of “legitimize its anti-migrant program”according to Human Rights Watch.

The PiS asks the Poles if they wish to maintain or destroy this barrier, which it considers a powerful lever against irregular arrivals. However, crossings continue, even if they no longer reach 2021 levels. More than 20,000 attempts were recorded between January and August, according to the regional spokesperson for the border guards cited by the Guardian.

More dangerous roads

“At all costs, we had to cross,” says the exile sharing Husam’s room in a discreet voice. Last winter, the young man tried four times to go around the wall. At certain points of the border, bodies of water suggest an easier crossing. But the young man was pushed back several times from Poland, before managing to pass through the freezing water, in the middle of December.

“Research shows us that this type of deterrence [les murs] encourages migrants and smugglers to take more dangerous routes”, notes Hanne Beirens, director of the Migration Policy Institute Europe. “These walls only have an effect for small areas, in the case where they completely close off places. Not in a situation where you have rivers, forests.”

“It’s very difficult to completely close a border.”

Hanne Beirens, director of the Migration Policy Institute Europe

at franceinfo

Bialowieza, the last primary forest in Europe between Poland and Belarus, has become a privileged place of passage. The massif with dense vegetation is a haven of biodiversity, as much as a hostile environment on the path to exile. As you tread on its muddy ground, you can see many fallen trees, tall vegetation and very present marshes. In the distance, along the wall, a police car broadcasts an alert message to migrants: “You are breaking the law. If you want to come to Europe, go back to the consulate and apply for a visa.”

Throughout his attempts to cross, Martial* lived for days recluse in a forest on the border, “drink dirty water” and without food. The smiling face of the young African closes as he confides about his crossing, “a very difficult time in life”. It was on a dark night, at two in the morning, “to be invisible”. Martial describes placing pieces of wood on barbed wire to protect himself, then sinking up to his chest in a river. “The water crossing lasted three hours, we held hands. You go into the water, you don’t know what’s going to happen”, he remembers. “There was a lot of fear. You tell yourself that you are facing your destiny, and that you might die.” And among those who preferred to cross the wall, “a lot of people broke their legs.”

Serious injuries

In the Warsaw region, an acquaintance of Martial, Ruth, returns from a Polish course. “I can’t stand for very long”, underlines this 21-year-old Congolese woman in a shy voice. She points to her right foot and then to her desk drawer, filled with medications. Almost a year ago, Ruth fell off the wall while trying to cross into Poland for the third time. The young woman wanted to take another route, but Belarusian soldiers, she said, forced her to climb a ladder stuck to the wall, before removing her. Fallen on Polish soil, “I couldn’t walk, II was trying to crawl. My foot hurt so much.”

The Hajnowka hospital, located around twenty kilometers from the border, is one of the first points of arrival for these wounded from the wall. Tomasz Musiuk walks through the emergency room corridor, where dozens of migrants were bedridden at the height of the crisis. Lately, there have been fewer of them and they tend to occupy orthopedic surgery and traumatology beds. “Before, we saw patients who were dehydrated and exhausted, who were hungry. Often, a few hours in the emergency room were enough for them,” explains the deputy director of the hospital.

“There are cases of fractures of the pelvis or spine. They are clearly linked to the injuries suffered by these migrants when they fall from the wall.”

Tomasz Musiuk, deputy director of Hajnowka Hospital

at franceinfo

Jarek and Joasia, a couple in their fifties from the village of Bialowieza which gives its name to the forest, have become regulars at the hospital. Volunteers for the exile aid group Grupa Granica, they act as legal representatives, providing information and ensuring that the rights of injured migrants are respected. To the hospital, “we bring things so that the person feels good, for their dignity. We contact the families”, describe Joasia. Both keep in memory these bodies damaged by the border. This young Somali woman with a fractured pelvis, or “open wounds” of a Syrian woman whose legs were broken by a fall.

Humanitarian aid difficult to deliver

In the small, peaceful municipality of Jarek and Joasia, four military trucks follow one another down a residential driveway, followed by a fifth army vehicle twenty minutes later. Their passage contrasts with the calm of these few streets with wooden houses, on the edge of the forest. Helicopters crisscross the area, while access to the wall is controlled by soldiers and border guards. In August, Poland announced the deployment of 10,000 soldiersfearing “Provocation” members of the Wagner militia installed in Belarus and a new migration crisis orchestrated from Minsk.

This imposing military device means that“it is much more difficult for us to help these people“, warns Aleksandra Chrzanowska, from Grupa Granica and the Association for Legal Intervention. At the border, Grupa Granica can receive messages calling for help at any time, with geolocations. “Quite often we don’t have time to reach them,” reports the humanitarian.

“There are more and more soldiers, border guards and police searching the forest. Many exiles are arrested and turned back, even when they want to ask for asylum.”

Aleksandra Chrzanowska

at franceinfo

In early September, members of the group attempted to help two Sudanese men deep in the forest. “The army caught them and handcuffed everyone, including our volunteers.”

Further north of the border, Bartosz Jakubowski, of the Ocalenie foundation, stands ready to intervene. In the apartment in which volunteers and employees take turns helping the exiles, medicines, defibrillators, energy bars and batteries accumulate on the shelves, ready to be distributed at the border. For Bartosz too, the military presence has significantly reduced the number of alerts and interventions. “Before, the police did not go looking for migrants in the forest. Now you have a line of soldiers looking for them, and they are very efficient, he testifies. We must be invisible”. With winter approaching and even more hostile conditions near the wall, “all this prevents us from helping a little” the exiled.

*The first name has been changed to preserve the anonymity of the person.