To all those faithful “Sherada”, who are always ready and prompt to read our articles. This is my debut in English. It has been suggested that I try out my ESL skills. I thought a great place to share it would be on Intipucacity.com with all of you whose first language is English.

This is just an essay about one of the many realities I saw during my trip to United States last July. This case is real, but the “hot spot”, the real scene in my essay happens a little bit to the north, going toward Silver Spring on University Boulevard, just before hitting the beltway. There they are standing tough and waiting to make the day.

To all those fellow hard-working Salvadorian countrymen, my due respect and best wishes for you.

WINNING THE WAR ON MISERY

The man seems to be worried about a family problem back at home, but in reality the source of his worries is his actual situation: he is an illegal person, an illegal worker, an illegal alien, …simply “an illegal”. The right terminology has very little importance for him. It has no effect on relief for the problem that he is going through at the moment. He is standing early in the morning on a crowed corner, a few blocks from where he lives. This man feels ready for whatever destiny has reserved for him that day.

Day after day, he goes to the corner of Riggs and University Boulevards, in Hyattsville, Maryland to try to find a good “jale” or any type of work for the day. That is how he plays out his existence: on a day-to-day basis. He cannot afford a better plan to face life. In fact, he has no plan at all, other than to attend the usual gathering in that corner in the city day in and day out. He happens to believe in destiny and in good fortune, and that, not too far in the future, luckiness will start coming his way to end his days of misery.

The rest of the elements making up the crowd seem to be pretty much in the same situation: they are all “illegals”. There are about six dozen aliens on that corner, all waiting to be “lifted”, (not of course by the INS forces who by the way, do their prospective "catchings" of illegal aliens in this area of town), by some humane house builder, contractor or any particular individual needing good, cheap labor. They come to this corner to hire for just a few hours, for that day or for an entire week.

The man moves away from the center of the pack, as he sees a “construction” looking truck approaching the corner where everybody awaits with the fingers crossed, ready to make the day. The man in the truck looks, like some dark skin gringo, but in fact he is Chilean, because of his accent, “you, you and you” he says, and then he cries out load “vamonos”. He spent about 15 seconds to pick up his three men. Very efficient, considering the time normal humans resources departments take to recruit their labor. To make it that fast, the Chilean man probably knew his three fellows from previous occasions, and did not want to take any chances with new aliens he did not know, or maybe he did not want to spend more time to prevent unsolicited labor jumping in the back of the truck.

The man had made his way away from the center to make his presence more evident, did not produce any results: he was not among the three men picked. Despite the bad luck, he decides to keep this position away from the eye of the crowd. He definitively wants to improve his odds of getting “lifted” the next time around. Raising your hand from the edge of a heavily packed group of individuals, may not, after all, be a bad idea, in comparison with those standing in the middle, who are further away from where the truck driver makes his stop. Good judgment of the part of the worried man.

There he is looking ready and willing for any labor type: cleaning backyards, carrying bricks, home lawn, turf care, trimming bushes, or even the old time classical dish washing. The latter was the least probable though, due to the timing and place: early in the mornings that corner is frequented by headhunters coming from the construction sector mostly, but our worried man seems to ready and prepared even for the dishwasher’s “chance”.

It is now 6:30 in the morning. The fellow shakes his head, watching in all directions as if he were in a hostile territory. He soon starts talking with somebody in the group that seems familiar to him. “Vos también andas jodido de jale” he says to the other colleague. “Ando hecho pija compa, y tengo que enviar una chachita rápido palpueblo” the other man replies. The conversation is about how rough is it to find a job and the economic problems their families are facing back at home in El Salvador. The exchange goes on in that picturesque, blue-collar, rich Salvadorian vocabulary for almost half an hour.

In a few minutes, there was another construction vehicle approaching the pop spot. The worried man raised his left hand to catch the driver’s attention when the vehicle was still a few meters away and as it came closer to curve, he quickly realized the truck was no gringo coming down looking for labor, but a clever Latino with a transportation business dropping off more illegals looking for the same “chance” as the rest in the spot: a job.

The morning grew older, and some managed to get “picked” to work by the few white color construction trucks that stopped by. The worried man hangs on to patience and hope. He does well, for patience and hope are what he has left to hang on to. He is wearisome. The man has been living on these two wishes for the past 90 days. He has been in this situation ever since he came to this part of universe from his hometown in El Salvador. He needs something else. He has to be stronger and more determined. As president Bush says “determination” is what makes people know you are serious about something.

So there he is standing strong on his two feet, watching carefully in that corner, together with what’s left of the crowd, as if they were defending a war, a strategic position, or a special, tactical front, motivated to fight the odds until the end, until they get hit by a lucky call from some builder desperate for labor, that is how most in the crowd get “lifted”. As odd as it may sound, this is a matching point, in which some “on the spot” partnerships take place between labor demand and labor supply forces. This is the meeting place where some “instantaneous” labor agreements take place. This corner is reserved only for the desperate, both, the one looking for hiring and the one in need to get hired, the difference is: the latter is infinitely more despairing.

It is now almost 10:00 AM and the crowd now starts to disrupt, their strategic war position is now falling in pieces. The chances of getting “lifted” for a job are now almost null. Some start walking to a nearby Seven Eleven in the area to get a cup of coffee, others walk toward the “open fair”, “street” style coffee, taco and “minutas” shops and stores, set up by their own Salvadorian immigrant brothers who have seen some market potential from the crowd that gathers there every mornings.

As the crowd starts dismantling, the troubled fellow with the worries, hangs on to that street corner for another 45 minutes as if he wanted to give “chance” one last hope, or as if he wanted to eliminate any rest of remorse he may have inside, for not doing enough to get employed to help his family left behind in El Salvador.

No luck this time for our fellow, “bon homme”. Three months have passed since he crossed the border illegally all the way to Hyattsville, Maryland. Yet another day has gone by, but our fellow man has to be patient and hopeful. As president Bush says, has to be “strong” and “determined” to win the war, our troubled man must be stronger and more determined than ever to win his own battle in a strange land, defending that strategic war position in that corner of Riggs and University Boulevards.

José Manuel josemanuel@intipucacity.com