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Published Tuesday, May 24, 2005
MIGRANTS AND LANDLORDS

Housing for Farmworkers Must Meet Code, if the Inspector Finds Them

By Diane Lacey Allen
The Ledger

Third of six parts
LAKELAND
A middle-class family looking for a house to rent can find something very nice in Polk County for $1,200 a month. A dozen migrant workers can pay that amount for a no-frills, bare home where bunk beds are made from two by fours.

But if that house or mobile home is licensed migrant housing, it's arguably a good deal because the state Health Department has at least checked to make sure it has hot water and toilets that flush.

By definition, migrant housing is considered a residence where five or more unrelated farmworkers live. State law requires those homes be inspected at least twice every three months by the Department of Health. Violators can be fined and eventually taken to court, something that local officials say has never happened.

Department officials say they strive to work with migrant housing owners and tenants so that they can create an open line of communication about good health as well as bringing homes up to code.

Although Polk County has an estimated migrant and seasonal farmworker population of more than 16,000 -- more than 24,000 if you count their families -- there are only about 25 socalled licensed camps, often only a mobile home or house, which have been inspected and licensed.

Everyone knows there are far more dwellings that could be classified as migrant housing, but only one Health Department worker is assigned to that duty and his time is also spent inspecting places such as tanning salons and bars.

By comparison, neighboring Highlands County, with an estimated 7,173 seasonal and migrant farmworkers, has four inspectors and 120 camps.

So why does Highlands have a higher ratio of regulated housing to workers than Polk?

Ed Dixon, environmental supervisor for the Highlands County Health Department, said: "It's kind of been historical. If they (Polk) only have one person, maybe that's the reason they don't have the time to do them (house inspections). It's how they allocate their personnel."

Tim Mayer, environmental administrator for the Polk County Health Department, conceded that devoting more workers to the migrant housing program would probably mean finding more migrant camps.

But, he said, if the one inspector, who makes about $34,000 a year, becomes swamped during the migrant season he would consider shifting personnel to give him more help.

In addition to its one inspector, Mayer said Polk takes advantage of 20 other department workers who are routinely in the field. They pass along addresses of dwellings that may be in violation. The county also gets tips from U.S. Department of Labor investigators when they run into unregulated migrant housing as part of their inspections or investigations.

Mayer said it is rare when a homeowner voluntarily calls to inquire about a permit.

"We search every day . . .," Mayer said. "I'll admit, if we had more funding we could do more. I think that's true with a lot of programs. . . . If we had more staff, we could certainly find more. We are doing the best we can right now."

GETTING COMPLIANCE

Tomas Barajas was one of the farm labor contractors who was referred by the Department of Labor. Barajas said during a routine check he was told that he needed to get a permit for a home he rented to migrants.

"It ain't that difficult to comply," said Barajas, who got his permit in 2004. "I had just minor things that they said you have to have."

Barajas said he found the process inexpensive. He made small corrections such as fixing a bed that needed to be 12 inches off the floor.

"I had a regular bed and it was lower than that," Barajas said. "That was one of my problems. All I had to do was raise it up a little bit."

But not every place is as wellkept.

A review of Health Department records for Polk County found violations are often noted more than once before they are corrected.

The Ledger found only three owners were cited in the past two years.

Silvano Alvarado Jr., operator of a property with eight mobile homes in Frostproof, was cited in May 2003 for operating a migrant labor camp without a valid permit. The citation came with a $500 fine.

Alvarado then got a valid permit and no fine was assessed.

William Claridy of Lakeland was cited for not having permits on two properties in Mulberry. The $500 fine was waived when he got the permits.

Hassan Haifa of Winter Haven was issued a citation for operating a camp in Wahneta without a permit and for repeat violations, including holes in the structure that allowed in the weather and insects, missing ceiling lights, exposed electrical wiring and raw sewage under kitchen floors, according to the citation. His $2,000 fine was reduced to $50 when he fixed his property and applied for a migrant labor housing permit.

Mayer said his department tries to work with migrant housing owners just as they do with other homeowners. Those who don't eventually comply are cited and fined; once the fines build up the owners can face court action.

But, he said, no migrant housing owner has had to face a judge.

INSPECTION POLICIES

When it comes to inspecting migrant housing, the Department of Health seeks compliance rather than punishment.

Owners are notified in advance about pending inspections because officials say they can't get into a residence if no one is there to let them in, and most of the people in charge of doing that are often working in the groves.

Health Department Director Dr. Daniel Haight talks about the bigger picture beyond housing inspections. With so many undocumented migrants working in Polk -- and many of them suspicious of authority -- it is important to develop a relationship with that community to reduce or respond to disease outbreaks. Haight says his department must overcome cultural difference that can spread illness.

In 1997, the need to work with migrants became particularly obvious during a typhoid fever outbreak. Nine cases were eventually diagnosed.

During the outbreak, health officials identified a risk factor that puzzled them at first.

They discovered toilet paper was being put in a basket rather than being flushed. The habit meant children playing in the basket were exposed to disease.

When residents were asked about why they were not flushing the paper, Haight's department found the custom came from experiences at heavy-handed clandestine camps in other states.

Migrants would be thrown out of a camp almost immediately for stopping up a toilet. So they learned to store the paper rather than face being evicted.

"The more we learn about them and learn about their culture, the better," Haight said.

So to avoid disease, inspectors such as Israel Midence explain to migrants that it is OK to flush toilet paper.

And at the same time, Midence checks to make sure the home has a proper septic tank.

Midence says the Health Department also prefers to work with landlords, because shutting down migrant housing would leave migrants homeless.

The department strives for as much cooperation as possible with tenants and migrants. And that mindset continues to the point where inspectors do not check to see whether migrants living in licensed housing are legally or illegally in the country.

"We're not INS," Midence said.

Diane Lacey Allen can be reached at diane.allen@theledger.com or 863-802-7514.