Thread: Adios, Yakima Valley

http://www.yakima-herald.com/page/dis/287428166714777

Published on Sunday, November 5, 2006 Printable Version E-mail to a Friend

Adios, Yakima Valley -- Migrants say border crossing too risky

By ELOÍSA RUANO GONZÁLEZ

YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC

The U.S.-Mexico border isn't the only wall Jose Herrera has had to climb.

Good luck and fortune never have been in the cards for him. Instead, he's been dealt a difficult life -- that of a migrant worker. It's a world the 32-year-old, like many other immigrants, no longer wants to be part of.

With the apple harvest concluding, Herrera will wire another $200 to his wife in Mexico. Once she tells him they've saved enough to build a home, he plans to return to his country and never work in Washington again.

The combination of spiraling smuggling fees at the border, rising rents in the Yakima Valley and increasingly vocal objections from groups like the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps, which opposes illegal immigration, are closing in.

The last straw for Herrera: tightening federal border policies.

Although he is able to send money each week to his family in the state of Guanajuato by working eight-hour days picking apples, the annual trip north is no longer worth his struggles.

"It's one of the most horrible lives to have -- always on the streets," says Herrera, sitting on top of his Yakima home, an old, beat-up station wagon. "I wish I came from a rich family."

To conceal his identity, Herrera, who is undocumented, declined to be photographed.


IN THE PAST YEAR, the border has seen an increase of more than 1,200 patrol agents and the arrival of 6,000 National Guardsmen, part of a Bush administration initiative announced in May to tighten border security.

And less than two weeks ago, President Bush officially signed off on the construction of a 700-mile fence, complete with sophisticated surveillance equipment, along the southwestern U.S. border. The fence plan, included in legislation that has drawn coast-to-coast protests from immigration rights groups, originated in Congress nearly a year ago.

Workers like Herrera say it puts into writing a message that's been coming through loud and clear for some time: Migrants are no longer welcome here.

He's heard enough to convince him to leave the Yakima Valley and never look back.


HERRERA'S TALK worries employers like orchard supervisor Arturo Gonzalez, who's already seen a decline in the local labor pool. The number of signs soliciting apple pickers and the sparse crews in the orchards highlight the shortage. The Washington Growers League estimates farmers are 20 percent to 30 percent short of the workers they need, leaving the state with nearly 1,800 unfilled picker jobs this season.

Politicians keep promising immigration resolutions, but Gonzalez doesn't see anything getting done.

And his Cowiche orchard has been lucky compared to some, he says.

This September, as in previous years, about 30 workers from Mexico arrived via California to help Gonzalez with the fall apple harvest.

Considering the shortages other orchards around the Valley were reporting, he'd feared his help might not arrive, either. Other growers, he says, lost crops because there was no one to pick. He's heard stories of branches overloaded with apples crashing to the ground.

Despite the labor shortages, wages remain the same -- an average of $15 an apple bin, the growers league reports. And that no longer balances out the rising cost of reaching the area.

"We are behind on work," Gonzalez says. "(Workers are) needed to pick."

But after the kind of year migrant workers have had, local employers' needs may go unmet.


GETTING ACROSS the border has never been cheap, but Herrera says the costs have soared in the past year or so.

He first started working here when he was 16, coming north every year for a decade. After a six-year break from his annual journeys to the Yakima Valley, he returned in May 2005. He came to make money to feed and enroll his 6-year-old twin daughters and 5-year-old son in school in central Mexico, where they live with their mother.

He paid a high price, though.

Herrera says he gave a coyote -- a smuggler -- $2,000 in American dollars to lead him into the United States from Michoacán, where they met up with four other friends. About five years ago, it would've cost roughly $500, Herrera says.

The rising prices are forcing migrants to spend their life savings on the journey, U.S. Customs and Border Protection spokesman Todd Fraser says. And money doesn't come easily in Mexico. According to Habitat for Humanity Mexico, only one-third of the country is employed and half of them make $30 or less a month, figured in U.S. dollars.

While Fraser says there's no way of telling how many undocumented migrants make it into the country, border officers apprehended 1.18 million people attempting to cross in 2005. The ones who get caught are later deported by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement team, and the would-be migrants lose all the money they've spent to make the trek.


WITH THE 6,000 National Guardsmen and 10,910 Border Patrol agents now watching the border, it's decidedly harder to get across.

It took Herrera 12 days to get around "La Migra" -- U.S. Customs and Border Protection -- and the National Guard at the relatively remote Arizona line. A few years ago it would have taken only a couple of days entering through San Diego, which is now so heavily patrolled that many travelers avoid it.

Blas Tepec confirms that this was the most difficult year to cross. The 30-year-old Mexican national leads Gonzalez's workers to the Yakima Valley from Guerrero, Mexico, every year -- a trek he's been taking for about a dozen years.

This year, with weeks of daily attempts, it took them a month to get past border patrols. Once the group got over the fence, it was a three-day walk across the desert into Phoenix. Previous trips -- through now-impassable Escondido, Calif., took about a day.

But other migrants aren't even that fortunate. Many were stuck at the border and forced to return to their homes, contributing to this year's worker shortages. Although Tepec plans to come back because of financial needs, he predicts others won't. The new risks are too great.


WITH BORDER security at its toughest, the chances of getting caught have spiraled. And so have the traumatizing consequences, fueling more reluctance to take the journey.

In border towns such as Del Rio, Texas, federal authorities prosecute undocumented people as criminals, leaving even first-time offenders in jail anywhere from 90 to 180 days, says Fraser.

Migrants say such punishment was unheard of until a few years ago. Herrera says migrants were captured and escorted back to Mexico -- not thrown into jail cells with dangerous criminals -- before immigration tightened.

Herrera thinks it's unfair to treat migrants like criminals when they're simply trying to give their families better lives.

"La vida del Mexicano es muy triste," he says matter-of-factly: The life of a Mexican is very somber.


MIGRANTS ARRIVE in the United States with blistered feet and haunting memories, discouraging many from going through the journey again. The tighter border has made smuggling people more difficult, and migrants say coyote corruption has rippled.

Tepec's wife, Crimilda Sanchez, was terrified of snakes crawling up her legs when she crossed this year, but border agents say that should've been the least of her worries.

Fraser says smugglers are the worst predators. Coyotes frequently leave people stranded in the desert after taking all their money or risk their clients' lives cramming too many into a truck. Patrols often find coyotes driving toward Mexico in the incoming lane, jumping out to make a dash for the border and leaving migrants locked in the moving vehicle, Fraser adds.

Sanchez, 22, says women must also risk sexual assault to get to the United States.

Herrera, watching a fire burn in the makeshift stove he built out of cinder blocks and a rusted grill rack, says he understands.

Some nights he can't stop thinking about the coyote who raped the beautiful young woman traveling with him. Herrera says he tried to rescue her, but the coyote threatened to kill him, leaving him with no choice but to listen to the woman's painful screams.

"She was crying and crying, 'Help me,'" Herrera says. "But I said '(Sweetie), withstand it or they will kill us both."


THOUGH DEATH has always been a risk, fatalities have been on the rise since border officials started monitoring them in 1998 -- scaring home some seasonal workers. The Border Patrol reported 422 deaths in fiscal year 2006, compared with 266 in 1998. The worst year was 2005, when 473 people died, according to government figures.

Fraser says urban areas such as San Diego are tightening their entry points with barbed wire fences and tall, flat-surfaced walls that are impossible to climb. People would need a ladder or a blow torch to attempt to get past the barriers, which are always guarded by border patrols, he adds.

As a result, many migrants now cut through the lonely Sonoran Desert, where the searing heat makes the long walks treacherous. Fraser says many migrants don't carry enough food or water and end up dehydrated.

Herrera carried $100 worth of groceries on his back, including four gallons of water. But his supplies lasted only three days, he says. To survive the sweltering heat, he says he drank from ponds that ranchers made for their cattle.

Herrera was scared he'd never come out of the desert, but thinking of his children helped him keep a streak of hope.

"I was dying on the way," he says. "(But) my kids (were) worth it."

Others were dropping like flies, however.

Herrera's four friends didn't make it across. He says they got sick and were left behind. Patrols later treated them and they returned to Guanajuato after they were deported, Herrera says.

Sanchez was afraid of getting sick and being captured, then having to restart the tiresome journey.

After walking for days, Sanchez was anxious to drop the heavy containers of water she was carrying. But she knew she needed them, so her droopy body lugged them around the desert sands.


BUT THE GOING doesn't get much easier once migrants make it to Central Washington, where they find that rents have increased, making affordable shelter scarce.

Herrera says he finally moved into his car because the $350 a month he was paying for a small spot in an apartment was draining his budget.

Tepec understands. It's not uncommon, he says, for half a dozen workers or more to pack into a house together -- assuming they're lucky enough to find shelter in the first place.

Tepec says landlords are no longer willing to rent homes for a few months, and seasonal workers can't afford to sign yearlong contracts.

Manuel Beltancourt, a legal California resident who's been migrating to Yakima annually for about 40 years, has been sleeping in a 10-by-6-foot shed -- an upgrade from the cluttered toolshed he moved into earlier in the summer.

Despite the dwellings that have sprung up in the Yakima Valley in the past four decades, the 54-year-old Beltancourt says local housing is as hard to come by as when he was a teenager.

Back in Lodi, Calif., he owns two houses. But he still returns to Yakima each year because his heart is set on the migrant life. And even though he makes only about $8 an hour picking fruit, it's more than he'd earn for similar work in California, where the minimum wage is $6.75 an hour.

Herrera's satisfied with his pay -- he's glad to send home the money he makes climbing 10-foot aluminum ladders. But living in his vehicle with only a worn 3-by-5 photo of his family gets lonely.


LIVING CONDITIONS aren't the only thing that have gotten tougher, migrant workers say. American attitudes have hardened, too.

Tepec has seen passers-by in California insult, shove and hit migrants who were waiting on a street to be picked up for daily jobs.

Attitudes like that, Herrera says, give Mexicans even less incentive to come here.

Though he worries that La Migra will find him when he's in Yakima, Herrera mainly avoids coming into town because of the racism he's encountered on city streets. Often, he says, Anglos call police when they see large groups of Mexicans in Yakima. Herrera doesn't think the two sectors want to co-exist.

So he'd rather stay in his car, which he parks by an old shed near piles of rusted wheels and a debris-filled trailer on a secluded hill -- craving his family's affection. At night, when he misses his wife and children, he hugs the wood-framed photo and counts the days before he sees them. Then he falls asleep in the back seat.

"I suffer without my kids," Herrera says.


MOST OF THE WORKERS are gone now, though their stories will travel back with them to family and friends.

Herrera isn't sure when he's leaving, but when he goes, he says it'll be the last time he sets foot in the orchard where he's worked all summer.

It's too much pain, too great a risk.

Herrera, who still aches at the memory of a friend who died in September as he tried to cross into Arizona, knows it could easily have been him.

"Why should I come back?" Herrera asks, looking across the Valley's rolling fields. "To die crossing?"


Border facts

* The U.S.-Mexico border stretches nearly 2,000 miles from California to Texas.

* A 90-mile primary fence runs along parts of four states. A secondary fence towers 50 to 200 yards north of the primary fence, while in remote areas, additional barriers block vehicles from crossing. U.S. Border Patrol officers monitor everything in between.

* The 10-foot high, one-quarter-inch-thick primary fence is made of steel landing mats that were used during the Vietnam War to land helicopters, creating horizontal ridges between each stacked panel. Some of the fencing has 8-foot extensions with sharp top edges. People trying to climb over have torn off fingers.

* The steel mesh secondary fence is 12 feet high, one-quarter-inch thick and has 3-foot extensions facing south at a 45-degree angle. There are no ridges to grab, making it nearly impossible to climb. A concrete base extending nearly a foot deep blocks the way of anyone attempting to dig or crawl underneath.

* U.S. Customs and Border Protection, a division of the Department of Homeland Security, monitors undocumented migrants and arrests them if they try to cross illegally. The U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement then deports detainees.

* As of Sept. 2, there were 10,910 Border Patrol agents and 6,000 National Guardsmen posted at the border. A year ago, there were 9,690 border agents and no Guardsmen.

* Cameras and patrol officers watch the wall 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Cameras monitor remote areas, too.

* Natural barriers include deserts, mountains and the deep, fast-moving Rio Grande. Patrol officers often have to pull people from the dangerous river, whose waters appear calm.

* The heat can reach 130 degrees in the wide Sonoran Desert, which some migrants try to cross to reach the United States.

* From Oct. 1, 2005, to Sept. 15, 2006, there were 422 deaths, including deaths from dehydration, drowning and getting hit by trains while crossing the tracks.

* During that same period, most arrests were made near San Diego; El Paso, Texas; and Tucson, Ariz. Some detainees were repeat offenders.

* Authorities in some areas criminally prosecute those who get caught while trying to cross. Federal courts lock up those who try to get through the nearly 200-mile stretch of border near the patrol station in Del Rio, Texas, jailing first-time offenders for 90 to 180 days. In other sectors, Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers escort them to the nearest Mexican entry port.

* During the summer, Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials purchase airplane tickets for some undocumented migrants, dumping them into the interior of their country, most often Mexico City. This prevents migrants from immediately returning to the border and risking their lives crossing the desert.

* Migrants can be detained in holding cells for a few hours to several months until they are deported.

* Coyotes (smugglers) charge the equivalent of nearly $2,000 in U.S. dollars for each crossing try. Under federal law, coyotes caught smuggling immigrants can face capital punishment if they cause any deaths or serious injuries.

* According to Habitat for Humanity, two-thirds of Mexico's citizens are unemployed. More than half the nation's workers earn $30 a month or less.

He's heard enough to convince him to leave the Yakima Valley and never look back.

So I guess that makes it 1 down, 19,999,999 left to go.

According to Habitat for Humanity, two-thirds of Mexico's citizens are unemployed.

Where did they come up with this figure? That would make an unemployment percentage of 66.6%, so with a population of 100,000,000, that would mean 66,600,000 people are unemployed. I just looked up Mexico's unemployment rate on several websites, they list Mexico's unemployment rate at 3.6%, with 25% underemployed. A far cry from 2/3rds unemployed. What kind of propaganda are they pushing at Habitat for Insanity?

I do suppose that would be accoding to sympathetic groups, but also when we see the numbers for unemployment/underemployment, was this from Mexico's own government itself? If so, can they be considered a reliable source?

I have to say, if people are so bad off, then we need to send in some help to bring them seeds and farming tools so they can eat, like we do in places like poverty stricken SE Asia and Africa, help them dig good wells, teach them about proper sanitation, nutrition, and general health help, in their own countries that is, so they can thrive there.

When you give people an easy out, they will never better themselves or their nation, and the vicious cycle of victimhood and poverty will continue.

Washingtons apple orchards will get their help. My own father grew up "apple knockin'", every summer till he joined the Navy up there, and it would not hurt too many kids to get out and keep busy, learn work ethics, get some exercize and earn some money. These orchard owners could put into the cost of building "dorms" for these young summer workers, and this could be provided for free, while these young people worked and stayed in the area? Hmmmm........

Damn.........all that BORDER SECURITY and they still got thru!!

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HERRERA'S TALK worries employers like orchard supervisor Arturo Gonzalez, who's already seen a decline in the local labor pool. The number of signs soliciting apple pickers and the sparse crews in the orchards highlight the shortage. The Washington Growers League estimates farmers are 20 percent to 30 percent short of the workers they need, leaving the state with nearly 1,800 unfilled picker jobs this season.

If these people like Gonzalez had any common sense, they could easily see that the crews that use to work the orchards are still in the US, they are all doing construction work instead.