The globalized village of Pluzhne: supplying Europe with manpower

Someone had left a copy of the Italian Ukrainian Gazette on a table in the tavern. It turns out that this newspaper has been in circulation since February 2006. Although it was early in the morning, the tavern was crowded. The assortment of ordered drinks was a reminder that Pluzhne has long been living under the sun of the free market. Tipsy customers, mostly young people, were not interested in discussing the Ukrainian Gazette.

The village council building is located nearby. Liudmyla Hrebeniuk, the secretary of the local self- government, was in her office.

GEOGRAPHY OF PLUZHNE

“You can use our migrant workers to study world geography. They are everywhere: Portugal, Italy, and the UK. Many of them are in Moscow. Yes, they remember their native village and come back for a short rest, but then they return to where they come from,” says Hrebeniuk, who has occupied her post for 20 years.

Viktor Maksymchuk is the veteran council chairman of the village. “They elected him for the third time, on an alternate basis. He took a leave of absence and went for a vacation at the seaside,” says Hrebeniuk. “At one time he also saw the world through a migrant worker’s eyes. He no longer does; he says he can’t because of his status.”

Olha and Ihor, a young married couple, visited their native Pluzhne in July. Olha’s mother Liudmyla was the first to travel to Italy about 10 years ago, and it looks as though she will never come home. She has remarried there. It is said that families are made and wrecked in an international manner because of the migration process, when a husband travels in one direction and a wife in the other.

“Our village is large, so I can’t be sure about everyone’s destiny,” explains Hrebeniuk.

There are 3,341 residents on the official register of Pluzhne, which is located 18 km from Iziaslav, a remote district center. It is a typical backwater. “Our population is shrinking. Since the beginning of the year, 23 birth and 37 death certificates have been issued, and then you have the ones who are leaving for different parts of the world,” says the village council secretary sadly, commenting on natural and migration trends. But, as she points out, the village did respond to one of President Yushchenko’s “Ten Steps toward the People.” The state’s financial childbirth incentives have yielded some results: in previous years the local baby-transporting storks were lazier than in 2006.

MAGELLANS AND THEIR FOLLOWERS

For some reason or other, Pluzhne’s history is silent about all those Magellans and Columbuses who blazed a trail from this village to foreign countries, close or faraway. The fact remains that globalization has not spared this village, one of the largest in the region. Pluzhne has effectively integrated into the world labor market — out of dire need, of course. “What else could those people do? The district labor registry office has 702 of our residents on its lists,” says Hrebeniuk, who sympathizes with her unemployed fellow villagers.

Apparently, the founders of the Ukrainian Gazette in Italy have the gift of foresight, at least where the “bright” prospects of Pluzhne and other villages are concerned. The front page of the issue in question provides detailed explanations on where the modern followers of Magellan can acquire legal status, and how and where to obtain work permits. One of the authors of the article predicts: “The migrant worker trend among our women will never cease.”

Here’s another topic: the glorification of the Ukrainian woman, “who gives up her personal comforts and lives for the sake of her children” — in Italy, while her children live in Pluzhne. The poor woman has to be in constant telephone contact with her offspring just to keep track of their education.

The Ukrainian newspaper published in Italy offers an answer to the main question of today: who is to blame for wives abandoning their husbands and small children and going off as migrant workers? Its headlines and articles are full of words, like “Octopus” and “Mafia” — of course, not the Italian Mafia. This is the voice of the distant homeland.

“I’ve been away from home for a year. I brought 1,500 euros,” says a tipsy voice.

“And look what’s happening here,” a middle-aged man says to the man with the euros.

“Have another drink, my treat,” says the migrant worker, encouraging him to set out on his search for the truth.

At another table you can hear the following dialogue:

“I told my old lady to go to England. People say the English are different from the Italians. They are indifferent to women. But she went to Italy. Me? I figured that after working so hard, I wouldn’t want anything; 13 hours at an asphalt plant. No, sir! I went to a brothel. Our women were there too, but I’ve met enough of them at home. One of their women? In one hour you kiss goodbye to what you’ve earned in three days. They’re all the same. Now then, tell me how you people have been keeping here all this time.”

“Not much to tell. We milked our cows and sold the milk for one hryvnia a liter. And then that war came out of the blue. Before, the suppliers wanted our milk for their plants, but now they have reduced the price by two times. Half a hryvnia! They said we could either accept their prices or drink our milk. We slaughtered our cattle to sell meat — what else could we do? That wasn’t our war. And a thief stole my horse from the pasture.”

These are some of the conversations I heard. After all, summer is the same in Portugal, Italy, Great Britain or Poland: vacation time.

Pluzhne has four hangouts like this. There used to be a children’s cafe, but today it caters to local adult customers and village guests.

OUR OWN “OCTOPUS”

An anonymous local chronicler, writing about the village’s “achievements during 60 years of Soviet power,” left this for posterity: “Pluzhne is the center of the village council. The population numbers 4,009. The Druzhba [Friendship] Collective Farm, whose central office is in Pluzhne, owns 2,600 hectares of arable soil. The collective farmers grow grain crops and beets. Dairy animal husbandry, gardening, and bee-keeping are well developed. In 1969, a pharmaceutical plant for the production of biomycin was set up on the premises of a distillery built in Pluzhne in the early 20th century; the new plant has a staff of 170. Among its other enterprises, the village has a Silhosptekhnika [agricultural technology] branch with well-equipped workshops, motor pool, oil base, warehouses, brickyard, and a communal enterprises combine.”

During the 15 years of the new era Pluzhne has experienced many changes. Friendship Company, the successor to the collective farm of the same name, no longer has orchards or bee-keeping; and dairy animal husbandry is in its death throes. Well, we all know that dead bees don’t buzz.

“Druzhba bakes bread. The 120 workers receive their wages in the form of bread-payment in kind. Then they brought in a shoe factory, and people were getting shoes instead of a salary,” says Hrebeniuk, outlining the company’s socioeconomic situation. But the founders of Druzhba are humane: “If someone needs an operation, they will pay for it.”

For some reason the globalization of Pluzhne has had little impact on the population’s vocabulary. They seldom use words, like octopus or mafia. They prefer to call a spade a spade. “The bandits cut up the bakery with its 170 workers. Where did they come from? Kyiv, they say. They came here, loaded up all the equipment, and scrapped it,” says the secretary of the village council.

Neither did the “bandits” spare the Silhosptekhnika branch with its “well-equipped workshops and brickyard.” That wasn’t the end of it. The trees that were planted in the forested areas around Pluzhne in honor of the USSR’s 60th anniversary are being cut down. The villagers believe the timber is being sold in Poland.

“Our village council chairman Maksymchuk has been writing to all the people in power to make those bandits calm down a little and bring them to justice. He has sent several letters to the president, but to no avail,” complains Hrebeniuk.

Pluzhne does not expect the government to carry out the rest of the promised “steps toward the people” after issuing childbirth incentives. Instead, it continues to increase the readership of the Italian Ukrainian Gazette.

Why not? After all, there is a market supply to meet increasing demand.

Ukrainian migrant workers provide their fellow villagers with financial support. They facilitate local business initiatives. But these initiatives run up against the organization of trade and the food industry. Every Friday vendors from all over the district gather in Pluzhne, serving customers any way they please.

In market conditions, there is only one way out of the situation: personal participation in globalization. This process is accompanied by irreparable losses — and not just for Pluzhne. Statistics show that the demographic situation is worsening.