By Paula Day

Nightly, people are sleeping in front of the Immigration and Naturalization Service's legalization office on Columbia Drive in Decatur. Since early summer, each night a different group of men and women have taken places on the concrete sidewalk, waiting for the office's opening the next morning.

As the weather gets colder and a November deadline approaches, their desperation will increase. They are seeking legalization as agricultural workers, a special INS designated class.

In the early hours of October 21 a cold rain was falling. That morning approximately 75 to 100 men and women waited outside the INS office. Some were standing in small groups, smoking, talking quietly. Others were sitting huddled together, backs against the storefronts, sharing thin blankets which they wrapped around shoulders and beneath them as protection against the cold cement. By spending the night in line they hoped to insure getting an interview with the overworked, understaffed personnel of the legalization office.

"This is a time when immigration at the national office in Washington should increase their staff instead of decreasing it at local legalization offices," Sister Patricia Brown, SSMN, legalization director for the diocese of Savannah, said. "Then people wouldn't have to sleep on the sidewalk in front of the office all night. It's unjust to the local staff to have the burden of long hours and insufficient help to adjudicate these cases."

Sarah Gutierrez, chief legalization officer for the Atlanta district, said in a telephone conversation that she is expecting an increase in staff sometime in November. Presently her staff interview approximately 125 people daily.

"It's impossible to estimate the need for staff," Patrick Kingery, co-director of the Atlanta archdiocese's legalization office said. "No one knows how many undocumented there are in this country."

The year-long amnesty program for undocumented persons who came to the United States before January, 1982, ended May 4. Under the present special agricultural workers' program, those who can provide documents proving they did indeed work a minimum of 90 days in a perishable crop industry between May 1, 1985 and May 1, 1986, are eligible for temporary resident status in this country. This program ends November 30.

"The amnesty law was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Kingery pointed out. "This is it." Because of sanctions, under which employers who hire the undocumented will be fined, the pressure is on these people to gain resident status, Kingery observed.

"Undocumented people in this country live with the daily fear of an uncertain future. They feel they are in a desperate situation and have resorted to extreme measures in order to acquire legal status," Kingery said. "They are desperately seeking out their employers to acquire necessary documentation and waiting in line as much as 24 hours in order to file as the November 30 deadline approaches."

Kingery pointed out that "because of the sheer desperation the undocumented find themselves in, some have resorted to trying to purchase documents to prove their farm work. This obviously puts them in an extremely vulnerable position, vulnerable to be taken advantage of by unscrupulous people. I know of cases where people have spent up to $2,000 and received absolutely nothing. The sadness of this is heightened even further because this money could have been used to help their families who remain in Latin America."

In the meantime, in an effort to ameliorate the situation of those spending the night waiting for the INS office to open, Father Jorge Christancho has been bringing them hot coffee, sandwiches and fruit.

Father Christancho is parochial vicar at the Cathedral of Christ the King. Since late August, each weekday morning at 4:30 he and volunteers from the parish have visited those waiting in line. At first Father Christancho bought coffee and doughnuts at nearby fast food chains. Wanting to provide more nutritious meals, he enlisted the help of others. Various groups, under the coordination of Tim and Millie Coleman of the Cathedral parish, have donated time and food to the effort. Juanita Hernandez, owner of La Fiesta restaurants in Atlanta, prepares the coffee and brings it to the site.

As cold weather approaches, Father Christancho is appealing for blankets and sweaters. Donations may be left at the St. Vincent de Paul Society Office at 26 Third Street in Atlanta.

Those spending the night are mostly young men. Anibal, from Peru, is 23. He came from south Georgia and is living with a cousin in Atlanta. He left Peru because "my country is all down. There's nothing there. Prices are so expensive. Who can afford it?" In his native country he wanted to go to the university but could not pay the tuition. His family remains in Peru and Anibal wants to return to visit but not to stay. "It will be the same there," he added. Anibal spent the early morning hours writing letters to his father and a friend.

Mario, who is 21, came from Guatemala because "we have too many problems in my country, and for the money." He had been in line since six the night before.

While the volunteers distribute the food, Father Christancho visits with the immigrants listening to their stories. Some come from other states -- Texas and Michigan, for example. Not all are from Latin America, Father Christancho said. He has talked with immigrants for Italy, England, Taiwan, India, Africa and Haiti.

"After the November 30 deadline," Patrick Kingery reiterated, "there will still remain millions of people in this country with no legal status. This is a phenomenon that congress and the President must eventually face."

"We, as Christians, have a moral responsibility to these strangers in our midst," he said.