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'State of
Perdition' -- South American Laborers
Describe Working in New Orleans
Two workers rebuilding New Orleans describe the long hours and lack of job security of contract labor -- conditions familiar to one young California reporter.
By Elizabeth Gonzalez, New America Media,
June 27, 2006 -
New Orleans was muggy and hot when a
friend and I first arrived on a
Wednesday afternoon. The weather was
like a tropical country, where beads of
sweat come down your forehead just from
standing up. We went to New Orleans to
speak with immigrant workers who are
rebuilding New Orleans and hear them
share their stories of life after
Katrina.
Finding immigrant workers in New Orleans
was easy. According to the Gulf Coast
Latin American Association, an estimated
30,000 immigrant workers moved to the
Gulf Coast in the weeks after the
hurricane. Exact numbers are hard to
find because no one is officially
keeping track of the fluctuating work
force.
According to the findings of a study
released by researchers at Tulane and
Berkeley universities, nearly half of
the hurricane repair workers in the New
Orleans area are Latino, and one in four
is undocumented. However, 87 percent of
the undocumented workers were already
living in the United States before
moving to work in New Orleans.
About 50 immigrant workers were living
in the hotel where we stayed. Workers
pay $200 a week for rooms with regular
double beds and smaller bunk beds in the
corners. Unlike the other rooms, these
have refrigerators and microwaves. Many
workers are being contracted directly
from South American countries like Peru
and Bolivia. They are brought to the
states legally to work in everything
from construction to housekeeping in
local hotels.
Many of the immigrants have a regular
routine that one worker I talked with
described as "la perdición" -- a state
of perdition. After working 10 to 14
hour days, many of the men then drink
the night away, with little else to do.
Some men who are unable to find work for
the day wander the downtown area
together.
Two young men we met in the hotel agreed
to show us around New Orleans when they
returned from work. Ivan, 23, is from
Peru. He met Pablo, 26, from Bolivia, in
New Orleans while they were both doing
construction work. The two are
opposites, yet hang out with each other.
Ivan is dark, with broad shoulders and
had the look of having done hard work
all his life. Pablo was soft-spoken,
light-skinned and let Ivan do most of
the talking. He always wears a baseball
cap that reads "Rebuild New Orleans."
Hard labor was not in Pablo's plans when
he thought of coming to the United
States, unlike Ivan, who knew he was
coming to do heavy construction work.
After Ivan's last job ended in Peru, he
started to look for new work online and
came across a company looking for
construction workers to work in the
United States. They got his paperwork
ready and brought him to New Orleans for
a contracted period of 10 months. He
thanks God for helping him get to the
United States because back in Peru, he
says, "I would have not been able to do
anything." After working here for only a
month, he has already been able to buy
his own piece of land to live on when he
returns to Peru.
Pablo explained that he was searching
for exchange programs on the Internet to
come to the United States and found a
site that would arrange a visa so he
could work legally for a number of
months and also teach Spanish. He wanted
to work at a theme park, but that didn't
work out, and he was placed in an office
position. But because his
English-speaking skills didn't match his
English comprehension, he was pulled out
of that job and sent to New Orleans.
Soon our bellies were rumbling, and Ivan
and Pablo said they knew a good place to
get fried chicken. Pablo, in English,
ordered a plate of fried chicken with a
side of rice, while the Asian woman at
the counter repeated to him in Spanish:
"pollo frito con arroz." I ordered the
same and my friend ordered a different
plate. We got our orders and realized
that Ivan hadn't ordered anything. He
and Pablo were sharing; they said the
portions were huge. Needless to say, I
felt like a fat pig at that moment.
Over dinner we talked about labor in our
home countries. All around us were other
immigrants speaking in Spanish about
work conditions and job connections. I
told them that in our home city of San
Jose, many workers for Silicon Valley's
high-tech companies were hired through
outside agencies. I said a majority were
hired as temporary workers without any
guaranteed job stability and no
benefits, and that many accepted it
because maybe the pay was a little
higher than minimum wage. Pablo didn't
miss a beat and compared it to his own
situation in New Orleans.
Here, they both found long work days,
seven days a week. They only recently
arranged for a day off. They get paid
about $7 an hour and averaged 10-hour
days. Yet, even on their day off they
gather at Lee Circle, where many
immigrants meet early each morning to
get work for the day. Pablo and Ivan
lament that they don't get to choose
their days off, like Saturdays, when
they could reach their families at home.
Pablo, Ivan and many others like them
are leaving their mark on the new city
of New Orleans in the sheetrock of
buildings and the foundations of new
homes. But little else will be known of
them, because they aren't rebuilding
this city to make it their own. They
will go back to their own homes when
their contracts are up. They aren't
being invited to stay; they are needed
to clean up the mess to make way for
others to come in. Their experience of
the United States is one they share with
other immigrants already here: They
provide a thankless service that most
people are unwilling to do. See also:
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