Migration
I will be heading to the United States at the end of October to visit family and attend my brother’s wedding. Whenever this comes up in conversation with friends and acquaintances here in Ixtahuacán, invariably I am asked, “Can I ride along in your luggage?”
Migration is an important part of the economy here in Ixtahuacán, and though my village has only 4000 inhabitants, many say some 300 men are currently up in El Norte. Everyone has at least one relative in the States. Many of my buddies have spent time up there: Houston, Dallas, New Orleans, Brooklyn, Los Angeles, Utah. Wences, a member of my host family, is due back in October; he has not seen his wife and children in over four years. My friend Juan Mateo plans to return to Texas in December. My English students Miguel and Alberto badger me incessantly with questions about crossing illegally, securing work and a place to live, and American culture.
Most Guatemalans pay a coyote, a human smuggler, to bring them across the border. The price is US$5000 per head, which usually must be borrowed from a loan shark. The money can be paid back in a matter of months if they succeed in crossing and finding work without being deported. If something goes wrong, or the coyote robs them, they are stuck still in Guatemala without a job, and now 40,000 quetzales in debt.
Most folks I know cross in Arizona, in the desert. They must walk for several days, eating and drinking only what they are able to carry. Two dozen Guatemalans have died trying to cross the border so far this year, some young teenagers. For them, the Sueño Americano, or American Dream, never came true. I talk to folks about the risks of crossing illegally, but usually this does little to dissuade them. And given that they have little economic prospects here (the day wage is $3 in Ixtahuacán, which will include beans and tortillas for lunch if you are lucky), I don’t blame them for wanting to go.
I don’t know how I feel about migration. It divides families, removes the people from their cultural communities, and encourages alcoholism. All too often the dollars remitted to Guatemala are not invested in economic ventures, but spent on consumer goods like pickups, new houses, and electronics. Remittances are tied with tourism as the leading sector of the Guatemalan economy according to some indicators, but how do these hundreds of millions of dollars annually contribute to the development of the country?
I do support legalizing the status of the migrants. It would improve migration safety, allow workers to visit their families with greater frequency, and provide opportunity to regulate the work conditions of millions.
I’ll leave you with an image: Baby Dylan, talking by cell phone to his father he has never met. He left for L.A. while Gloria was still pregnant. The family does know when he will return.
Migration is an important part of the economy here in Ixtahuacán, and though my village has only 4000 inhabitants, many say some 300 men are currently up in El Norte. Everyone has at least one relative in the States. Many of my buddies have spent time up there: Houston, Dallas, New Orleans, Brooklyn, Los Angeles, Utah. Wences, a member of my host family, is due back in October; he has not seen his wife and children in over four years. My friend Juan Mateo plans to return to Texas in December. My English students Miguel and Alberto badger me incessantly with questions about crossing illegally, securing work and a place to live, and American culture.
Most Guatemalans pay a coyote, a human smuggler, to bring them across the border. The price is US$5000 per head, which usually must be borrowed from a loan shark. The money can be paid back in a matter of months if they succeed in crossing and finding work without being deported. If something goes wrong, or the coyote robs them, they are stuck still in Guatemala without a job, and now 40,000 quetzales in debt.
Most folks I know cross in Arizona, in the desert. They must walk for several days, eating and drinking only what they are able to carry. Two dozen Guatemalans have died trying to cross the border so far this year, some young teenagers. For them, the Sueño Americano, or American Dream, never came true. I talk to folks about the risks of crossing illegally, but usually this does little to dissuade them. And given that they have little economic prospects here (the day wage is $3 in Ixtahuacán, which will include beans and tortillas for lunch if you are lucky), I don’t blame them for wanting to go.
I don’t know how I feel about migration. It divides families, removes the people from their cultural communities, and encourages alcoholism. All too often the dollars remitted to Guatemala are not invested in economic ventures, but spent on consumer goods like pickups, new houses, and electronics. Remittances are tied with tourism as the leading sector of the Guatemalan economy according to some indicators, but how do these hundreds of millions of dollars annually contribute to the development of the country?
I do support legalizing the status of the migrants. It would improve migration safety, allow workers to visit their families with greater frequency, and provide opportunity to regulate the work conditions of millions.
I’ll leave you with an image: Baby Dylan, talking by cell phone to his father he has never met. He left for L.A. while Gloria was still pregnant. The family does know when he will return.
posted by John Engler at 5:57 PM
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Nancy just turned nine on Sunday. We had a party complete with piñata and cake. I didn’t get to thwack the piñata, but I ate some of the peanuts that burst out of it.
At the top I met these four boys from Pacorral I, returning from gathering firewood below. Mayan men customarily carry loads braced against their brows like this. I’ve seen someone carry more than their own bodyweight straight up a mountain without resting in this fashion.
