Poland: baling hay, shovelling manure and pounding grain

by Leon Billows (New Zealand)

Making a local connection Poland

We were not entirely sure what to expect with this one. There were only a handful of listings for work exchange in Poland, fewer than 10, in contrast to over 400 in Ireland where we had just finished volunteering at a small, rural B&B. But we were keen to spend time in Poland and decided to travel to the first people who replied to our humble, albeit hurried requests. We were immediately invited by a family whose listing was vague and not very descriptive. Something to do with goats and pumpkins. No reviews. We took a chance. From Katowice we had to take a Communist-era train to a small town, Kluczbork. Our new hosts would pick us up from the minimalist train station. Blurred fields of wheat whizzed by and stretched uniformly to the horizon; we were now in the breadbasket of Europe. I imagined the thousands of others who had come before us, to work these fields, travellers for business, not pleasure. Outsiders of any description would almost certainly stand out on this train. Seated on the train, we caught a glance of two other travellers, Kathmandu backpacks and furrowed brows of anxiety and nervous excitement. At that point we knew we weren't the only volunteers arriving that day. Where else could they be going? A bittersweet feeling overcame us, as we were looking for a truly authentic rural experience in an unknown land, but at the same time we didn't quite know what to expect upon arrival and were grateful for some like-minded company. It turned out our hesitations about our hosts and fellow travellers were completely unfounded. Elzbiet, Jurek and their two teenage daughters were the most welcoming and hospitable people you could ever hope to meet. During our first couple of days on the farm we learnt about the family, their farm and their lifestyle. With only a handful of exceptions, they only consumed food and drink they produced themselves. They milked goats, made cheese, grew wheat for bread, perfected pumpkin jam, picked fruit, distilled vodka and cultivated a sense of community. We worked towards specific goals as part of the projects they were working on at the time. We baled hay, milked goats, harvested pumpkins and built a goats' pen. They worked us hard in the heat of early August but fed us well and their beaming grins of gratitude when we completed a project together made it all worth it. We felt part of the family and pitching in for a common goal just seemed natural. We acknowledged that they would not be able to accomplish so much without the help of volunteers. Every night we dined together, the smiling portrait of John Paul II watching over us, and learned more about each other's cultures. This wasn't like Cashel in Ireland, we were actually sharing their private home. Elzbiet's mother, a 92-year-old babushka who must have been suffering from dementia and didn't speak a word of English, joined us at meals. I'm sure she spent every meal wondering who these strange people were sitting at her dining table speaking some unintelligible tongue. She communicated with us by pointing: anything she pointed at meant we should eat more of it! I remarked that even 20 years ago no one would have been able to fathom why tourists would want to work for free when they are supposed to be on holiday. To think that people are willing to work for no monetary reward, sometimes for commercial businesses, on the other side of the world, for fun! Inconceivable to someone of babushka's generation. The farm in Poland was my last working experience on my trip. I still had a lot to see and unfortunately didn't want to commit to another month of work in my short time left. Of course, placements of a week or even less are possible, but it is not enough to develop close bonds with hosts, nor it is long enough to witness your efforts bear fruit. I have continued to volunteer in New Zealand, and as a result of my experiences have become quite interested in agriculture, subsistence farming and sustainability. Something that pub crawls, museums and bus tours don't offer.