Immigrant Diaries: September 14th, Presenting.....The 21st Century Slave

I almost made it through an entire harvest without facing a single case of human trafficking - almost.

Guillermo is twenty-three and does not qualify for migrant education.  I met him first in June in a tobacco field near a camp known for housing several youth, age 21 and younger.

Guillermo was sick.  He was clammy in the 100 degree heat and his right eye was drooping slightly.  He kept saying he was too hot.  I immediately called the Farm Worker Health Outreach team.  They were in a training session so I convinced Guillermo he should be seen by a doctor and went on to discuss what could happen if we waited to seek medical care.  His crew leader, who grudgingly allows us access to his workers (thanks to his daughter), agreed he should be seen by a doctor.

Guillermo was new to the U.S.  He arrived in January, 2006; in debt $4000 to a Coyote.  He was frightened at first, pulling his ball cap low over his face in an effort to appear less conspicous.  I insisted that he relax and asked him about his fears. 

He told me he was miserable - for the amount he owed and had to pay each week to the Coyote via the crew leader.  Then he clammed up.  I ddn't press the issue and we discussed immigration laws and his confinements in the U.S.  We discussed general laws such as no license - don't drive; don't urinate in public; don't shoplift thinking no one will notice; don't run from the police - ever, etc.

I didn't pursue the conversation about the crew leader, neither did I forget.

Our program has been awarded another full time recruiter who is working out nicely.  He is a white kid with a big heart; the step-son of a Mexican immigrant female.  He has a step-daughter and two-year old with his Mexican immigrant wife.  They were lucky enough to qualify under the marriage law just before it was revoked about six years ago.

I also have two full-time (temporary) seasonal recruiters.  Both are legal residents, the one from Mexico holds a college degree and the other, from Honduras is extremely well trained in real estate, insurance and sales. 

My Honduran recruiter took over this particular camp in August.  After a few visits he approached me, somewhat cautiously.  "I think something is wrong at that camp.  There are four from Guatemala, only two are young enough to qualify; one is sick and can't work as often as he should....they asked me to get them out."

I took a deep breath, looked at my recruiter and simply said, "No."

He was frustrated and I pulled him from the camp with the promise to follow up on the guys from Guatemala.  I went to the camp twice and noticed that either the crew leader or his son-in-law were present for all the conversations.  I also picked up on the body language...the crew leader stood, legs apart and arms crossed, unsmiling while the boys looked steadily at the ground shifting nervously from one foot to the other. 

I asked for help from the Farm Worker Outreach program.  One of their recruiters arrived and picked up four migrant workers on a rainy day - two of them were the ones I needed to speak with. 

I spoke to Guillermo again.  He was more forthcoming with information - desperate now, for release.  "We owe the Coyote.  The Coyote and the crew leader are friends.  The crew leader takes rent ($15), food ($30), and lunch ($25) from us each week.  Then he takes $100 for the Coyote. 

I nodded in understanding and replied, "He isn't paying the Coyote, Guillermo.  That isn't how this works.  Let me explain.  The Coyote sold you to the crew leader.  If they say you owe $4000, it's because the crew leader bought you for $2000 and he'll take another $2000 just because he can."

Guillermo swallowed with difficulty and spoke in a whisper, "Listen to me, please.  I can't work in tobacco.  It makes me sick.  I don't know anyone in the U.S.  In Guatemala, I have no house.  Our house was destroyed in a landslide.  My parents, my wife and my son are in the street.  That's why I came."

I hold up my hand to cease his words because, to be honest, I look at the earnest look in his eyes and hear his voice and....I don't want to hear another word. 

I take a deep breath and explain, "There are lots of people from Guatemala here - LOTS of people, just like you.  Don't work on Saturday, walk toward the city.  Don't hitch a ride with anyone.  It's only about eight miles to the mall.  Meet people, Guillermo.  Ask for help.  I'll be back in a few weeks and if you are still at that camp - I'm reporting it.  Get out of there and stop giving all your money to the crew leader.  You may suffer for awhile but if you work hard, it will get better."

Guillermo looked hopeful.  "Which one is the mall?" he asked.  I explained how to get there and I asked more questions. "Was he the only one?  Were there more?  What about the others from Guatemala?"

Guillermo wouldn't speak for them so I went to speak with the youngest one, my nineteen year old recruit.  The kid was terrified of me - literally.  I dropped the light questions and made small-talk, to no avail.  

Nearly four weeks have passed since that last conversation with Guillermo.  I arrived at that camp tonight with my Honduran recruiter and my full-time recruiter.  We held a dinner tonight to thank them for all the hard work they have performed in strawberries, blueberries, cucumber, tobacco and now sweet potatoes.  The dinner was to honor them and complete needs assessments for the future direction of our program. 

I asked pointedly for the boys from Guatemala.  "They aren't here," said Mario, whose fourteen-year-old daughter was accompanying us to the dinner.

"Oh?" I replied, trying to sound disappointed.

"They took off two weeks ago," he said in a tone that smacked of conspiracy.

I winked at him and asked, "Have you seen them?"

"Just the sick one - at Wal Mart last week.  He looked good.  Not doing tobacco anymore."

I smiled, not bothering to hide my relief.  We shook hands in silent understanding.

"My daughter wants to go with you.  Take care of her, please."

I hugged Jazmin, smiled at Mario and said, "Yes sir, I promise."