Monday, October 5, 2009

Immgrant farmers work hard in a poor economy

Life as an immigrant agricultural worker in the Yakima Valley is inexorably tied to the soil, the seasons and the economy – forces beyond his control.

For farmers and field hands alike, the year is comprised of periods of long hours and intense physical labor followed by lengthy stretches of inactivity. All the energy they exert is spent in the hopes that this year, the American consumer will favor their crop and make their annual toil worthwhile.

In the spring and summer, men like Jose Bravo and Daniel Saria are up at 4 a.m. preparing for a long day of grueling work. Bravo and Saria represent two crucial elements of a dairy farm: herdsman-ship and crop raising.

Both forms of husbandry require a specialized set of skills, skills that both men have spent the better part of a lifetime developing.

"Some vacas are bitch cows," Bravo said. "They'll try to kick you or crush you, but you learn how to avoid that – after she kicks you."

Bravo is the farm’s herdsman, he is in charge of breeding and herd health. He was born in Mexico and grew up in the state of Jalisco. His said his children were born in the states and a few years ago he became an America citizen. Bravo said he still sends a portion of his wages back to family members in Mexico.

Saria is from Mexico City. Before he immigrated to the states he said he had a government job, a coveted position in Mexico – a nation with high unemployment rates.

“My tio used to work for the government,” he said. “Before I came here he got me job as a garbage man in Mexico City.”

Like Bravo, Saria said he sends some of each pay check back home to family.

Saria is the head field man at the dairy and his main responsibility is making sure the herd is fed. He said he is busiest during planting and harvesting. During those times, he usually works from sunup to sundown.

Both men work for Willem Bron, founder, owner and operator of Bron Dairy in Granger, Wash. Bron is a fellow immigrant.

The farm on which they work was originally built in the early 1940s to provide the Crewport Farm Labor Camp down the road with milk and cheese. "Crewport" as the camp is commonly referred to, was constructed around the same time as the dairy to house migrant farm worker families escaping the Midwestern dust bowl and the Great Depression.

Today, Crewport still houses migrant farm workers. Now though, most are Mexican American families like Bravo and Saria's.

Bron has two things in common with Bravo and Saria, he works side by side with them everyday and he too came to the states to find a job.

In 1985, he emigrated from Friesland, a province in the north of the Netherlands. He was 25.

The son of a widowed mother with five children, Bron grew up in government housing, in poverty. Like Bravo and Saria, when he got to the states he didn’t have much money and his English was broken at best.

"I started out as a milker,” Bron said, “I worked my way up from there and now I have my own place.”

Being a milker on a dairy means you're the lowest man on the totem pole Bron said. Conversely, the herdsman has some of the greatest responsibilities. He is in charge of the general management of the herd. He said it took him years of work before he had saved enough money to find a partner and start his own operation.

Now though, the future of that farm and the livelihood of its workers is in jeopardy. With the milk market flooded with the commodity, overproduction threatens everyone Bron said.

“Supply is high and milk prices are low,” Bron said, “it’s a wonder anyone can keep their head above water anymore.”

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