Unlike New York, the immigrant community took us far away from the city lights and the urban settings of Miami and its beautiful beaches. There were no buildings, nice little bars, restaurants with flashy lights; there were two different societies coexisting together in the same area. Each morning the crew and I drove forty five minutes to reach the camps or communities where the subject of our documentary resided.
During the course of the trip, we visited camps in Florida City and Homestead. Even though we were far away from the city, just like almost every part of the United States, we encounter a MALL every two or three miles along the way. “Money has only one color (green), and one race, spending at an American mall is universal, all are welcome”.

The first time I thought about the migrant workers camps, I had a very clear picture of how they would be. I was wrong, dead wrong. For example in Florida City, the first camp we visited was beautiful, organized, clean and most important; it dignified the hard work of this community.

During our visit at the camp we met with some of the administrators, most of the former migrant workers themselves. The community worked in the field doing the “Pisca”, spanglish for picking crops. There was a long waiting list to obtain a house in the complex, which made you wonder. Where were the unlucky ones who didn’t get in? We were told downtown, were living conditions were sub-par.

At the center of the camp, there was a community center, were children from the area took classes, went to after school programs and for the very young, it had a day care center. We found out also about the strictness of living in the community, codes to keep you to stay. Administrators often visit the houses to make sure residents are complying with the codes such as a clean house and surroundings.
The second camp was a little different from the first one, it was older and the community seemed to have made that place their very own. But, just like the other camp it had the same services to help all the families work and still provide their children with essential necessities needed to have a healthy home.

“Even when asked, at no point people seemed concerned about the AH1N1. Most immigrants would tell you that the “supposed” pandemic was at the bottom of their priorities when it came to public health problems. The community was more worried about what President Obama would do to resolve their immigration status.”
In the second camp we met with Gabriela and her family. Gabriela works at a nursery in Homestead, Florida where most of the plants and flowers we see at Ikea, Home Depot, Wal-mart and so on, were planted, groomed and fertilized.

Gabriela left Mexico and her two older daughters behind to look for a better life for her and her kids. With old pictures, and many cell phone conversation she tries to stay focus of why she did what she did when she crossed the border through Arizona and made the journey to the south of Florida. Here in the United States she has a new family, more worries and responsibilities on top of the ones back in Mexico where she can’t attend personally. I couldn’t imagine my mother not being able to take care of me if something happened to me. In the eyes of our moms we still their little kids until the day we die.

Gabriela introduced me to her youngest and only American daughter, Diane. She was born premature, and at a early age had a stroke which paralyze her left leg and damage her right eye. Even at three she acknowledge her limitations, which often makes her frustrated with herself and those around her, but in all honestly, she is a remarkable girl, savvy, smart and witted. Gabriela and her family represented this community, and just like the others we visited, they spoke to us for one reason; they wanted us to tell others that they are in no shape and form different from the rest, they work hard, they have problems. They are human beings. They need help and services like everybody else, but it’s harder for them if they have no voice to be heard.

The reason I’m going into small details that might not seem important, is due to the fact of the baggage and bad press that this hard working communities often have to deal with. I can’t forget the day we visited the Okra fields. It was probably around 94 degrees and humid. It rained the day before and the mosquitoes and other unknown bugs to me were on full force at the fields. Dozens of workers walked up and down, back and forth picking three inch okras to fill boxes. These workers are contracted to fill each box at 5$. In order to explain to you how bad it is, it would take a worker to be in those conditions for over ten to twelve hours in order to make 25$ in one day.

Florida, wouldn’t be able to survive without its migrant and immigrant community, is very well known to everybody from all levels in society.

“Taking the jobs of the American people” some say. Can you really believe that statement?