|
||||
  
 
 |
Latin Americans come to Utah for jobs, political stability, but find challenges in fitting in By
Heather Fredrickson
The copper-blonde and red highlights of her hair dance in the setting sun's light. Each black strand is coarse as hay, but falls into place as the curl of her Donna Reed flip grazes her shoulders. Her blue butterfly shoes flip-flop as she strides into her kitchen to boil water. "You want mate," she asked, though her guest had turned her nose up at it before. "I'll put lots of sugar in it for you." Mate, (pronounced MAH-tay), is a custom of Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina, she said, but this native of El Salvador doesn't care that it's not her custom. She's made it hers. Claudia (pronounced CLOW-deeya) Loucel is not a typical immigrant to the United States. She did not come here for economic survival or better opportunities as most do, but she has adopted the land and will stay like most other immigrants. She'll miss some things, of course. "I miss the fruit," she said with a smile. Mangoes, guavas and jacotes are available here, but not in very good condition, she said. Loucel flip-flopped back to the kitchen. Her water was boiling. She brought a thermos, a 4-ounce ceramic cup painted to look like a desert with cacti, a golden, metal straw and two white cylinders with red lids. Loucel tipped one cylinder over the cup. This was the mate herb; little green sticks. The other cylinder poured sugar on top of the herb, and then water was poured over the mixture. "Whatever you do, don't stir it," she told her guests. The metal straw was carved to look like it swirled easily from the top to the bottom, where the herb is strained. Each straw has a different type of strainer. This one had a bulb at the bottom with 20 pin holes that most of the mate couldn't fit through. If the straw is stirred into the mixture, more herb is forced into the holes. "This is a social custom. One person prepares the mate and another drains the cup until they slurp. Then, the cup is passed back to the preparer and the drink is passed to a different person. When you don't want anymore, that's when you pass the cup back and say 'thank you,'" she said. While everything she has experienced since coming to the United States has been new, including the mate ritual, Loucel seems content where she is. "It's politically stable here," she said, smiling. Most immigrants to the United States from Latin American countries come for economic opportunities and stability, but have a hard time adjusting to differences in cultures, parenting techniques and language. Fortunately, the population is relatively young, said Leo Bravo, executive director of the Cache Community Hispanic Center, and have an easier time learning new ways of life. According to his figures, the average age of immigrants to Cache Valley is about 37. Most of the immigrants he helps with legal and political matters, such as Visas and immigration papers, are from Mexico and El Salvador, but the nationalities don't end with Latin America. He also helps people from China, Britain and Denmark. "I'll do what I can," he said. The United States Census Bureau projected Hispanic population figures up to the year 2025. The Hispanic population that year is estimated at 58.9 million, 265,000 of whom will live in Utah alone. Does a growing population mean growing acceptance? "Cache Valley is new on diversities," Bravo said. "Some people react because they don't know the culture. When they know it, they're more friendly." Discrimination hasn't been a problem for Loucel. She said she doesn't get much of it anymore, but at first, people would go out of their way to be nice to her, saying, "poor girl, she's Latin," she said. Hector Mendiola, a pediatrician from Mexico City who lives in Cache Valley, sees the biggest problem faced by immigrants as a lack of communication. Those people who can't speak English have a hard time, as well as those who can't speak Spanish, he said. "The population keeps together for security," Mendiola said, referring to the way immigrants tend to live in the same areas. "It's hard to share" with a lack of communication, he said. The Hispanic community in Cache Valley has grown 73 percent in the past 10 years, compared to the white population which has only increased 17 percent, Mendiola said. English as a Second Language classes are available for immigrants to help them get along and survive here, but Mendiola said the classes are not taught to the people the way they need to be. He said the immigrant population coming to America is, for the most part, illiterate in Spanish. If people can't read or write their native tongue, he said, how can they be expected to learn to read or write a different language? Bravo disagrees with this assessment. He said the people he sees on a daily basis are generally well educated. The most recent driver's license course he hosted had people with an education of grade nine or higher. Bravo said people who move to the United States aren't necessarily uneducated, though there are those who have little schooling. "It's not that bad here," Bravo said. Mendiola maintains people coming here are from the poorer country backgrounds where expensive schooling took a back seat to work, but they don't come here looking for education. The language, culture, and religious differences pose hard challenges, he said, and most people just want to work hard and tend to their families. "They've failed in their own country for some reason, and the (ESL) classes don't address that," Mendiola said. Mendiola said he teaches ESL classes through Deseret Industries, a subsidiary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, eight hours a week. While the language is a large part of fitting in here, it is not the only thing. Mendiola said he would like to see classes that address more issues, such as parenting, to help people understand the country they've moved to. "Improve the person," he said. At Deseret Industries, Mendiola said his classes learn English through experience with each other and Latter-day Saint missionaries, but insists this is not enough. Many Hispanics come from a "very" different culture that raises children in a different way. Here, Mendiola said, people are not able to touch or spank their babies but don't understand why that's not acceptable. Children raised in the United States are done so with the freedom of choice, Mendiola said, which is a foreign concept for many parents who are not educated in choice. This can cause rifts between the parent and child, Mendiola said, and make parenting difficult. "They all want to go back," he said. "They're not ready to integrate." But the jobs are here. A majority of Hispanics in Cache Valley work on production lines at ICON Health and Fitness or Miller's Blue Ribbon Beef while others find employment in factories such as Thiokol and still others in farming. Mendiola said people will continue to come to the valley and stay here as long as there are jobs available. "If they don't work at Miller's, we don't eat beef," Bravo said. "If they don't work in the fields in California, we don't eat oranges. You see?" And it's not that the people aren't educated. Bravo said he sees nurses, architects and computer programmers come through his doors daily. While many immigrants may not come to the United States looking for education, many of them find it. Claudia Loucel, for example, is studying psychology at Utah State University. She has no plans to return to El Salvador, though she said she misses her friends and relatives. Because Claudia's father is in the military and outspoken about his political beliefs, Claudia received a death threat in 1993 when she was 18. "But that's not why I came here," she said. "I used to vacation here during the summers and after my senior year (in high Is fear for her life a reason for her not to return? "No. People down there are always trying to scare each other," she said. Her access to guns at home would be alarming to American standards. She said in restaurants, she would play with her Dad's gun, and she and her brother still enjoy putting bullets in the clip. Storage boxes of ammunition would find their way into her bedroom if there wasn't space anywhere else. "It's not safe. Not for Claudia," she said. "If I could choose, I'd pick a gun-free environment, but I don't regret growing up there."
|
Archived Months:
January
1999 January
2000 |
||