Journal Entry Dated 12/11/08
Today, I woke at seven. Simon meowed me awake. We had a Rigo day today, with Rigoberto, the farm manager. I ate oatmeal with cinnamon, and half a grapefruit with honey at breakfast, showered and dressed. We all walked to the farm stand, the seven of us interns. Seven now. We went to an onion patch to weed and hoe. I was confused at first. I couldn’t find the onions. Julia gave me a bit of a lesson about it, but I was still having a hard time. I would try to pull the weeds and the onions would come out, too. Rigo came along. Ug, I knew I was doing it wrong. But he taught me. He showed me how to put my fingers near the base of the onion so that it would stay in place while I pulled the weeds near it. And how to chop up the earth near the plant, suppressing the weeds around it.
I felt like I was leaving the ground very bare around the plant. M felt the same way. Bob certainly does it differently. I suppose that means he has taught us well, if it is difficult for me to bear to do it any other way. I tried to tear some of the weed material apart and place it on the bare ground. We took a break. I had an apple and chocolate. I didn’t realize how much I had missed fruit, sugary fruit, until I bought some at whole foods yesterday. Rigo spoke with Julia a lot about his experiences crossing the border. I could understand only some of it, but Julia filled us in a bit afterwards. After that conversation, I felt like working very close to the others and talking, which I don’t always feel like doing. Sometimes it’s nice to work off on your own and be with your own thoughts when doing this type of work.
Rigo has a wife and children in Mexico, but he’s been working in Sonoma with Bob for 25 years. He said that at first, it was lonely being here. Now, his brother and son work with him, although he doesn’t get to see his son much, as they work on different farms, and his son goes to school at night, not coming home until 11 p.m. They start work at 6:30. Rigo said that there is this idea in Mexico that if you come to the U.S., you will make a lot of money fast and it will solve all your problems, but that when you get here, it’s not exactly true, but you keep coming back out of hope for a better future.
He goes back to Mexico about once a year. He takes an airplane there, but getting back in is another story. First, he walks three days in the desert in a group of about ten. They travel in groups because there’s a higher chance of making it across—at least a few will usually make it. There are bandits in the desert on both sides of the border. They have guns and they will take everything you have. Even the police are bandits sometimes. If the bandits don’t think you’ve given them everything, they will tell you to take off your pants. Rigo has a special pocket in his underpants to hide money. It’s like a game, Julia recounted, because they don’t really want you to take off your pants, for some reason. Julia didn’t quite understand why. Maybe because you may have a gun. Rigo said that he can tell whether or not they are really willing to kill you for your money.
After making it across the border, he must stay at a house for a few hours, to make sure the police are not coming for him. I am guessing this is what he has to do to protect the coyote, because after this, the coyote comes to pick him up (coy⋅o⋅te: a person who smuggles Mexican nationals across the border into the U.S. for a fee). He has to pay coyotes a lot of money. It costs almost nothing for him to go to Mexico compared with coming back.
He has five acres in Mexico that his wife and younger children work. His dream is to have an avocado orchard, and grow many varieties of avocadoes. He began working in the U.S. to have money to buy a truck. He bought a truck and other equipment with the money he’s made here, but will he ever get to live that dream? There must be people who can help him. There must be organizations in Mexico to help small farmers.
To me, this is just crazy—these are people. For 25 years, Rigo has worked here, growing food, feeding us, and feeding our children, and for 25 years, Rigo has had to endure the pain and loneliness of living far from his family. I cannot imagine having to walk three days in the desert. How do you survive that? How do you prepare for that? I especially cannot imagine doing that over and over again, to where it becomes simply part of your life. All this, and Rigo always has a smile on his face. He always has a positive energy.
On the way back to the farm stand, we rode on the back of Rigo’s ATV. I laid down on the trailer bed and watched the clouds as we bumped along. It did not even seem that I was moving, because the smeared clouds stayed in place, until the power lines passed above, moving together, then farther apart, intersecting and separating from one another. Andrea wanted to take a group photo of us all with Ross and Ross’ old truck, so we rode in the back of Ross’ truck to the top of a hill after lunch. The grass on the hill was such a rich green—almost neon. We had a lesson with Bob Schaffer on soil. He is such a good speaker.
At dinner, Melissa told us that she had just found out that her cousin’s two-year-old had been in a car accident and was “brain dead.” So little. I will be praying for her and for Melissa’s cousin. Lyle’s dog had puppies today, and after dinner, Melissa found out that she had one more puppy. She said, “I’m glad that puppies are being born.”
“Puppies are always being born,” I replied.
