Lansing State Journal
Sept. 2006 – Page 1A
By Tricia Bobeda
Raul Saucedo’s father told him that when he stepped into the fields, Raul was responsible only for himself.
That was when he was 11.
But Raul, now 22, hasn’t forgotten the salty taste of sweat that poured down his face as he picked blueberries for hours at a time. Or the faces of the workers riding in an old school bus that bounced down dusty roads to the farm each morning.
They are Raul’s friends. His family. And he wants a better life for them and for himself.
Buurma Farms in Gregory, about an hour southeast of Lansing, provides housing for its workers, a circle of stark white cinderblock homes made friendlier by flower gardens near the front steps. Its workers stay until October; then most move to southern states and return each spring. A life of perpetual transition and physical labor have given Raul more than a bad back and an unbreakable work ethic.
“If I can improve the conditions for workers in the fields, that’s what I’m going to do,” he said.
Raul is among the more than 40,000 migrant farmworkers who feed Michigan’s economy and provide produce to local grocery stores and Campbell Soup Co. He also is part of an increasing number of migrant children taking the next step in the American immigrant story: Leaving the hard work on farms for better lives.
For many, it’s not a movement away from their roots but a way of giving back and helping future generations. Raul will finish a master’s degree at MSU in Food Industry Management this year, which he hopes to use to assist others who work the fields.
Numbers bear out the transformation among the families:
• Children of Latino immigrants are 50 percent more likely than their parents to have a high school education, according to a recent study from the Pew Hispanic Center, a project of the Washington-based Pew Research Center.
• Fifty-seven percent of Latino immigrants report household incomes of less than $30,000; that percentage drops to 37 percent for their children, the Pew center said.
The Saucedo family has earned a living as migrant farmworkers in Michigan for 25 years, living in Texas during the winter. The Saucedos have three grown children, including Raul, who have left the fields and settled in Michigan; they also have a 4-year-old daughter, Alexia.
While her husband and about 100 other migrants work on Buurma Farms, Raul’s mother, Guadalupe, watches the children of the other farmworkers during the day. She sees a brighter future for them.
“I don’t want my kids being like us,” Guadalupe said. “I want them to have better choices than we do.”
And they do. Raul is part of Michigan State University’s College Assistance Migrant Program, which provides financial aid and mentoring to migrant students. The program has nearly doubled its enrollment in recent years, and will support 71 students this fall. Rudy Ramos, associate director of MSU CAMP, said the students have a strong commitment to their culture and family.
“We see ourselves as a family away from our families,” Ramos said about the students. “You can feel their willingness to help younger students.”
Guadalupe said she is proud of her children and the life she and her husband worked to provide. “My kids, they don’t ask me for anything,” Guadalupe said. “They work for their own things, but I still have payments and I still have a little girl that I have to work for. And we like it – you really get used to going back and forth.”
On a recent day, workers wiped the sweat pouring from their foreheads with bandanas and shirt sleeves as they picked curly mustard plants in the afternoon sun on Buurma Farms. The 12-hour workday starts at 7 a.m.
As a child, Raul said he didn’t understand why he needed to work. By 14, he said he understood that he was just pulling his own weight. The migrant lifestyle – which meant switching schools three to four times each year – was never easy.
“It’s hard,” he said, “because you start to get attached to people but you know you have to say goodbye.” Raul said school was difficult because curriculums in Fowlerville and Texas varied, and he had to take some classes more than once. Most of his teachers and counselors suggested he join the Army instead of applying to college.
“They already assume that you’re going to be a lifer on the farm,” he said. Raul’s summer internship ended a couple of weeks before fall classes started. Instead of taking the time to relax, he returned to Buurma farm to work.
“I still like working there,” he said. The job, Raul explained, has taught him to be responsible with money.
“When you work 70 hours a week and earn a small paycheck, you learn not to waste money,” he said. That’s important in a line of work that still demands a lot but pays little. In 2001, the average income for a migrant family of four was $7,500, according to state data.
Raul said he hopes that after graduating, he can earn enough to help his family.
“They just need a little help to stay above water,” Raul said. “They’re not going to stop working, I know that.”
The toughness in his tone fades when he talks about his 4-year-old sister. Raul doesn’t want her to have to set foot in the fields.
“I want to take her to Disney World,” he said.
(Sidebars)
Tough to tally
State agencies and researchers who focus on migrant and seasonal farmworkers in Michigan estimate the population at 40,000 to 150,000 people. The numbers are difficult to determine because the population includes American citizens, documented immigrants and people in the country illegally.
The lack of concrete numbers also makes it difficult to identify trends. But many in the community say more farmers are hiring single men instead of taking on the burden of providing for families.
The Migrant Life
Guadalupe Saucedo said life on the farm is hard work, but she enjoys it.
“It’s been a good experience because you work with a lot of different people, characters and everything,” Saucedo said. “And the thing that I like is all these years we’ve only worked with two farmers. They are wonderful, wonderful people.”
Most migrant families working in Michigan arrive in the spring and leave after the fall harvest. Farmers usually provide housing near the fields and have to meet basic health and safety standards to obtain a license for the camp from the state. Some farmworkers are paid hourly; others earn their pay based on how much they pick. The days start early in the morning to avoid midday heat.
Many migrants work 12-hour days six or seven days a week, especially during peak harvest times. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration sets 14 as the minimum age for work permits in most jobs. But special regulations apply to children working on farms; children younger than 14 can work with a parent’s consent and earn their own paycheck.
Pat Raymond, director of Michigan Migrant Head Start, said her goal is to make sure young children are not in the fields, whether they are there working or because their parents cannot find or afford day care.
Brothers Reach Out
ST. JOHNS – Kids will fight over one action figure, but lots of them can play together with a soccer ball. Adam Rene Rosenbaum figured that out by the time he was 7. He also noticed many of the migrant children he played with while his parents volunteered at the camps didn’t have any toys at all.
So Adam Rene, now 12, collected more than 300 soccer balls by writing letters, making posters and asking people to donate. “When you see people who have challenges in their life, you get that feeling and know you want to help them,” Adam Rene said.
He and his 9-year-old brother, Alex, have donated more than $40,000 worth of books, toys, school supplies and toothbrushes for migrant children. Their father, Rene, is a researcher at Michigan State University’s Julian Samora Research Institute.
He and the boys read to children at Michigan Migrant Head Start centers. Alex said when they can find bilingual books, he reads the English and his dad reads the Spanish.
“My father used to be a migrant worker, but he broke out of the cycle with education,” Adam Rene said. They pass on their collected items to Head Start, which distributes them at its child-care centers and farms throughout the state.
This year, the program’s greatest need was for was dental care items such as toothbrushes and toothpaste. The boys have collected $6,000 in products so far this year.
Class Time
Children of seasonal farmworkers change schools several times a year as their parents move for their jobs. Most of the families move in April to start working in the fields and leave after the harvest.
“They’re missing a chunk of education,” said Soledad Ramirez-Heiler, director of a Stockbridge summer migrant program that serves children in 11 camps in Ingham, Livingston and Jackson counties.
Ramirez-Heiler comes from a family of migrant workers and has worked with the summer program for 14 years. Janie Moyeda, 17, whose family settled in Stockbridge after years of migrating from southern states to do farm work, attends Stockbridge High School but also participates in the Summer Migrant Program.
“It’s different because sometimes at school you want to talk in Spanish, and in regular school you can only do that with your brothers,” Janie said. “Here you can talk to everyone the same, and they will all understand.”
There were 80 to 100 people enrolled this summer, but Ramirez-Heiler said attendance wasn’t steady. “It’s such a nice spring, even some of our junior high kids are in the fields,” she said.
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