Disciple: Voices from the Fields
North Carolina's farmworkers tell their stories
By Summerlee Walter and Silvia Cendejas
The stories contained within this piece are drawn from interviews with two current and one former farmworker who spoke with representatives of the Diocese of North Carolina and the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry. It is intended to share their voices and stories, which are rarely heard, directly with our readers. These individuals' experiences do not necessarily reflect the experiences of all North Carolina's estimated 150,000 seasonal farmworkers, but they do represent the real challenges and hardships many farmworkers face.
If you have any questions or would like to share your own stories of owning, managing or working on a North Carolina farm or of working in outreach to farmworkers, please email the diocesan communications department at [email protected].
Leonardo Galván works in North Carolina’s agricultural fields almost every day. For 10 years, beginning in 1992, he left his studies in economics and migrated back and forth from his native Mexico to North Carolina – and for one season to Virginia – to harvest tobacco, sweet potatoes, melons, cucumbers, peppers and potatoes. Sometimes Galván worked for farmers who treated him well and fairly, but just as often he labored for those who exploited their workers. Galván no longer harvests crops by hand for 12-14 hours per day, but he still spends much of his time in farmworker camps as an outreach expert and community educator for the North Carolina Farmworker Project. Both his story and the stories of the workers he serves now highlight the inherent dangers and difficulties migrant farmworkers encounter – and also reveal the hidden abuses some farmworkers experience at the hands of their employers.
According to Galván, one Fuquay-Varina farmer for whom he worked during five growing seasons in the 1990’s was aware of the struggles his workers faced and treated them well, but, he says, “That was an exception for me.” One common abuse Galván saw as a farmworker was farmers or crew leaders screaming at workers who did not understand instructions in English or whom the leaders felt were not working fast enough. The screaming sometimes escalated to physical violence directed toward workers.
In addition to verbal and sometimes physical abuse, Galván also witnessed economic abuses. During one growing season in the era before cell phones, the farmer for whom Galván worked collected $50 from each worker’s check to cover the expense of international calls back to their home countries, promising to refund them whatever balance they did not use on the $1.00 per minute calls. Regardless of the time they used, Galván says, workers never received any money back.
Galván continues to hear reports of similar economic exploitation from the farmworkers with whom he works now. The workers tell him stories of farmers who ban rain coats and ponchos from the field unless workers purchase them directly from the farmers, who charge up to $50 per poncho. In addition, farmworkers share stories of crew leaders who only allow workers to have food and drink during their breaks if the workers purchase overpriced items from the crew leader. Some farmworkers have reported that funds for snacks are automatically deducted from their paychecks, regardless of what they actually consume.
The workers have little recourse when their employers demand that they purchase certain items directly from them. Much like rural coal miners and migrant workers during the first half of the 20th century, who often lacked transportation and thus had access only to an overpriced company store, modern migrant farmworkers often visit the store only when their employers provide transportation and are dependent on their employers’ offerings the rest of the time. With often limited English skills, little access to transportation and fear of losing their jobs, workers often find it difficult to seek help when faced with unjust or illegal treatment.
Galván’s experiences, and the experiences of the farmworkers he now serves, highlights some of the dangers and difficulties faced by the immigrants who form the backbone of North Carolina’s $78 billion per year agricultural industry. The agricultural sector, which, according to the North Carolina Department of Agriculture and Consumer Science’s website, accounts for more than 17% of the state’s income, still largely depends on human labor. Unlike cotton, that other iconic Southern crop, tobacco, of which North Carolina produces more than any other state, is still topped and harvested by hand, and 85% of fruits and vegetables are also harvested by hand. This includes sweet potatoes, the other crop in the production of which North Carolina leads the nation.
Galván harvested both of North Carolina’s signature crops during his decade of farm labor and now, in his role as an outreach expert, he continues to see the effects that exposure to pesticides and acute nicotine poisoning have on field workers who spend their days handling crops. The effects of exposure to pesticides, including their potential neurological effects, are well-documented, and up to 44% of farmworker families live in housing directly adjacent to agricultural fields, increasing their likelihood of pesticide exposure. According to Galván, those working in tobacco fields are especially at risk for pesticide exposure because pesticides are applied to tobacco fields as often as once every five days.
In addition to the risks associated with pesticide exposure, North Carolina’s tobacco workers are also at risk for acute nicotine poisoning, more commonly known as green tobacco sickness. Nicotine can be absorbed through exposed skin when workers handle mature tobacco leaves, especially when they are wet. The symptoms of acute nicotine poisoning include abdominal cramps and vomiting, heart palpitations, weakness and fainting. While in extreme cases nicotine poisoning can lead to respiratory failure and comas, in most cases its effect is to prevent sufferers from working, resulting in lost wages in addition to the medical symptoms.
Gervacio Olguin has been coming to the United States on six-month contracts for the past 16 years.
“At first the tobacco made me very sick,” he says, “but it doesn’t anymore.” Olguin’s experience with harvesting tobacco is a common one. Workers frequently adjust to nicotine exposure over time, becoming less likely to experience symptoms while still absorbing the chemical through their skin. Those who are new to field work are especially susceptible to the medical problems caused by exposure to pesticides and nicotine due to a lack of awareness about potential dangers and appropriate precautions.
This is where Galván comes in. As a community educator, he works to teach farmworkers about the dangers of pesticides and to inform them of their legal rights. During his visits to the camps, he sings songs about pesticide safety set to the popular tunes he plays on his guitar.
“The workers have lots more help now than when I worked in the fields,” Galván says. While he can provide farmworkers with information or help them contact lawyers through Legal Aid if their rights have been violated, there is less he can do about the isolation with which migrant farmworkers struggle.
“At first it was very difficult,” Olguin explains. “I was very sad and worried to leave my family alone for so long. I was worried that I would not understand what the boss said since I did not understand English. I was worried to not understand people at the stores or other places.”
Nati Custodio has worked as a farmworker for 11 years. She harvested fruit and vegetables from Michigan to Florida before settling in North Carolina, where she works in tobacco and sweet potato fields. While tobacco is usually a crop harvested by men, Custodio fills in when the crew leaders are shorthanded. She usually leaves the fields by three in order to be home in time to care for her children.
Even though she lives in North Carolina with her husband and four three of her children, Custodio misses the son she left behind in Mexico when she moved to the United States.
“Our plan was to come to the U.S., earn money and go back home,” she says. “I left my son in Mexico to work here and send him money. We wanted to earn money to build a house back home, but it did not work out that way.”
Due to the language barrier, Custodio struggled with daily tasks like shopping for groceries or going to the doctor. She looked and listened for words that sounded like their Spanish equivalents, and did the best she could to decipher what signs and people were saying from there.
Despite her struggles with homesickness and isolation, Custodio plans to continue working in North Carolina’s fields.
“I want my children to have a better future here in the U.S.,” she says. “We have no plans to go back to Mexico. Over there, life is much harder and here, working hard, even if it has to be in the fields, we find work.”
Galván also looks forward to the future. He recently started studying for a G. E. D. and after receiving it hopes to continue the education he left behind in Mexico. Galván’s also working to expand opportunities for North Carolina’s migrant farmworker population as a member of the Board of Directors of the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry. As part of his role with the Board, he’s spearheading a fledgling farmworker leadership initiative.
Ultimately, the work of people like Galván and organizations like the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry help farmworkers like Custodia achieve their dreams.
“For the future, if we grow old, we will grow old in the fields. I hope that the children study and grow up to be somebody so they don’t have to work in the fields to live, like we do.”
Summerlee Walter is the communications coordinator for the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina. Contact her at [email protected].
Silvia Cendejas is the assistant director of the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry (EFwM). Learn more about EFwM at www.episcopalfarmworkerministry.org.
