Day 7- National Farmworker Awareness Week

ShaeLynn grew up in California and in July of 2010 moved to Pescadero where she and her husband Kevin started their ranch, Early Bird Ranch. Neither had come from a farming family and, in fact, the couple planned on becoming professors. But as they were applying for PhD programs, they decided that path was not for them.

“We chose to settle in Pescadero because… we could see the innovation in agriculture that was taking place here—there are a surprising number of small organic and sustainable farms, and we wanted to be a part of that community,” says ShaeLynn. “When we got here, we made an effort to get involved in the community by joining the Pescadero Community Church, and participating in events at Puente.”

ShaeLynn and Kevin know they represent the new face of farming. They raise sustainable poultry, pork, rabbit, and eggs – a far cry from the factory farms that produce most of the nation’s meat supply. They join a growing number of young and educated Anglos, mostly non-immigrants, that are starting and working on farms (though ShaeLynn herself is a member of the Hoopa Valley Tribe in northern California). They are driven to action because they care about their food and where it comes from– a group that doesn’t deal with the struggles of immigration status, inability to see their family, or broken laws, but who work hard to put healthy food on our tables.

A normal day for ShaeLynn begins at sunrise and ends well into the evening. She says, “A lot of people see owning your own farm as really idyllic and peaceful. And it is, some of the time! But it also comes with a lot of stress of responsibility, stress on your body, stress of balancing your time between the business and your family. A lot of work goes into getting my chicken to your table, and while I feel blessed to have the job I have, it involves a lot of sacrifices in potential earnings, physical pain, and job security.”

She enjoys most aspects of her job– working outside and with her family, as well as contributing to providing better food options to customers. “I think my job is very important—more and more people value food raised responsibly in a way that values the land, the animal, the farmer, and the community, and I’m happy to provide it for them.”

ShaeLynn did not elect to remain anonymous, a fact in and of itself represents a stark contrast from the reality of the immigrant farmworker experience. Despite similar callouses and sore backs, she and her husband are their own bosses. They own their own fate, have a community who embraces and supports them, and have goals that do not feel unreachable.

Looking into the future, ShaeLynn muses, “I dream of raising my son and other children on the farm where they have a clear connection to their food and nature, so that they value the food they put in their bodies and the work that goes into producing it.”

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Day 6- National Farmworker Awareness Week

(Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.)

Rosa came to the United States in 2002. In Mexico, she had been working for El Seguro Social (Mexico’s public health system), trained to travel from home to home and provide vaccinations.

Even with such a specialized job, “I was just making enough to meet the most basic needs,” she said. She finally told her mother she was going to go to California. Two of her brothers and one sister were there and although her mother tried to discourage her from the idea of leaving, she made the journey like millions of others who seek work in this country.

Rosa stills thinks about becoming a nurse or working with children, but without proper papers or status, those dreams have been put on hold. Today, she spends her days pulling weeds, picking flowers, and making bouquets with them. She has been working in a nursery in Pescadero since her arrival 11 years ago.

“I work only 5 hours every day. With the 8.25/hour I make, that’s only enough to pay for rent and basic expenses” says Rosa, who, for the first time, is considering finding another job. But despite financial challenges reminiscent of her past in Mexico, there is no doubt with Rosa that she enjoys what she does, working with the earth. Moreover, at her farm, she thinks men and women are treated equally.

When she’s not working, Rosa attends Puente’s Zumba dance fitness class. She considers herself shy and it took her some time to work up the confidence, but now she hardly ever misses one. “I come to socialize, to do something different. I still go to the last row, but I really enjoy coming.” She also takes English classes at Puente. “I would like to go to stores and understand what people say,” she shared, simply.

As Rosa continues to build her life here, the topic of immigration always looms. Reflecting on current events, she offers, “It is always plans, but at the end, nothing happens. I haven’t even heard it in the news so much lately, so I thought it was over again.” The hardest part for Rosa about her immigration status is not to being able to travel to Mexico. “I would like to see my sister” she said, referring to the one that stayed with her parents.

“It’s been more than ten years,” she said with a forced smile.

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Day 5- National Farmworker Awareness Week
(Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.)

The constant stress of living in the U.S. without documents is an issue that affects millions in our country. Among them are farm and agricultural workers who are doing jobs that the majority of Americans would never dream of doing.

“The U.S. Economy is one that moves the world,” said Leonidas. “My job is a part of that. We are an important part of the agricultural economy in this country.” Leonidas first came to the U.S. in 1998 on a temporary work visa. He is currently on his third stint in the US. “Each time I crossed the border, it was legally, with a work visa. It’s just that, this last time, I’ve stayed longer.” He was supposed to leave in 2008, but plans instead on leaving this September.

In his hometown in Mexico, there are agencies that connect workers with American farmers to work during the harvest season. “My first job was in Kentucky. Since then I have worked in Washington, Texas, Tennessee, Nebraska, Louisiana and finally here in California.” It cost him a total of $350 to legally cross the border his first time over. Today, guides to cross illegally are charging up to $3,500, he says.

Lately, Leonidas has been working 10-hour days, 7 days a week, squeezing in a visit to La Sala when he can. As he spoke, he sipped tea to calm a cough that he imagines is from breathing in residual pesticides. “It’s all a sacrifice, but it’s worth it. I am working very hard, but the security of getting a check every two weeks to help support my family keeps me going. I feel pretty content living here…not really in these living conditions but in a place where there is work all year round.”

For Leonidas, the struggles and separation aren’t even the worst aspects. “For me the hardest part is not being legal and also not speaking English. If the police ever stop me, not only will I not be able to speak to them, but I don’t know what would happen [because of my legal status]. I don’t feel legal here, but I know I’ve never done anything wrong either.”

Like many farmworkers, he is waiting for some movement by the federal government regarding immigration. But he is also anxious to get back to his family, having not seen them for almost five years. “If I leave now and there is some kind of immigration reform and I’m not here, I won’t be able to take advantage,” he worries. Lives like his remain suspended in the shadows until politicians thousands of miles away from him take action.

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