Every year, thousands of people cross the border from Mexico
into the United States to find work in fields that stretch from Maine to
Michigan to California to Florida. Each individual's story is different, yet they
all come with a dream of a better life. Unfortunately, many struggle while basic human rights are withheld. The first tenet of food sovereignty is that food is a basic human right. "Food: A Basic Human Right. Everyone must have access to safe, nutritious and culturally appropriate food in sufficient quantity and quality to sustain a healthy life with full human dignity."
In 2011, I visited the Farmworker Association of Florida in
Apopka. They run a center that offers health care, legal advice, trainings and
advocacy to thousands of farmworkers. They warmly welcomed me and one of the
organizers, Ana Luisa Trevino, gave me a tour of the area. We passed blueberry
fields and cucumber farms. We saw farm workers picking vegetables by the side
of the road, next to signs that read, “NO PHOTOGRPAHY ALLOWED.” I wondered, national security or human rights abuses?
At the Association, I was fortunate to speak with three
different women, each with her own story. One of the women was my host,
Ana. Ana came to the United States
in 1972 from Matamoros
Tamaulipas, Mexico. She crossed the border to Brownsville, Texas and
started working as a farmworker two years later. She was 13 years old. She
explained why her mother decided to came to the United States. “We were very
poor. The poorest of the poor in Mexico. Three of my brothers died because of
little food, no medication.”
Maria Luz Santana had a similar story: “I am from a farm in Guanajuato,
Mexico. I came here to follow the American dream.” In 1981 she arrived in
California with her oldest son, while her younger children remained in
Mexico. They tied grape trellises
in California, then picked oranges in Florida. Next were cucumbers in Michigan,
then sweet potatoes in North Carolina before heading back to Florida. Her son was killed on one of the
plantation camps when he was 15 years old, but Maria does not know how. She was
picking tobacco in North Carolina when it happened.
Ana tells me that one of the biggest differences now is that
children do not work in the fields. “The laws are different. They protect
children in many ways. If they see somebody not in school, the police are
there, asking. Back in the days, it was okay. If you don’t want to or can’t,
the school board gave you permission to work.”
The laws don’t necessarily protect the children in other
ways. Since 9/11 families have been torn apart because of deportations. Ana
explains, “Most of the children are getting lost in the system or are staying
behind with families who don’t have extra money to support them. Back in the
day, they did not deport a mother or a father. They let you stay with your
children. Now, you are in a car with your children, and they don’t care. The
children will be crying and they take both of them – both the mother and the
father.”
Although school is mandatory, basic human rights are too
often ignored and racial profiling is generally accepted. Ana continues, “I
think everything is worse. Because of the deportation, families are taken
advantage of. They are mistreated. They work overtime. People are afraid of
talking. Even people who are legal citizens, legal permanent residence or in
the process of getting legalized. They are afraid to report any wrong doing.”
Many farmworkers are abused physically and verbally. When
Maria first moved to Florida, she lived in a boarding house and had no idea
what her rights were. The rent for one room was $60 per week. They had to buy
their own food, even if they only had pennies left after rent was paid. A crew
leader named Pascual Martinez kept a
tight grip on the farmworkers at the camp. He took them to the stores, the
laundry mats and the fields. He also fed them lies about their rights.
Maria recalls, “We were not free to come and go. One time I
went to the corner store to get a gallon of milk for the babies and he got
upset and said, ‘it is the last time you come by yourself because immigration
will come and round up everybody.’ There was verbal abuse and some physical.
Always, they took advantage of the women. He [Pascual] had all the women clean
his house. He never paid the women. Immigration was just a threat, it was not
real.” Maria now knows her rights and lives independently. Pasqual is still a crew leader.
Through Ana’s work at the Association, she talks with the
women and hears their stories of abuse. Many trust her and tell her the whole
story, but when it comes time to report to the Department of Labor, they claim
that everything is fine, despite the fact than many are dehydrated, denied
bathroom breaks and exposed to pesticides.
Yesica Romirez came to Apopka from Maravatio Michoacan, Mexico. It was
1996 and she was 15. She immediately started working on the farms and in the
nurseries and was exposed to an unknown cocktail of pesticides. She told me, “We have to make a
chemical gel to apply to the plants. We don’t get any gloves or masks or
anything. We inhale all the chemicals. We see the safety warnings that say we
should wear gloves and masks. The boss doesn’t care.”
When I met Yesica she was not working because she had to
take care of her nine month old baby. “She has a problem. She had brain
surgery. She wears a helmet and has to go to the doctor every 15 days. She was
pre-mature and her cranium did not fully develop. Some people have said that
the pesticides may be why she has the problem, but I don’t know. The doctor
doesn’t know.”
Ana has seen this over and over, but there are no scientific
studies. “Children are born with head problems, respiratory problems, asthma,
rashes. There are so many chemicals and pesticides that you don’t know what they
were exposed to. We have cases of women who have children born with no brain or
birth defects or heart problems.”
Ana continues to work with farmworkers and fight for
their rights. As I write this, I remember Ana’s final words and I hope you do
too, “When you see a flower or a vegetable, remember a face. A child, a woman,
a man worked hard to harvest that vegetable, that plant.”
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