Memoirs of a Lechuguero

“I hope you are not faking,” he said, and showing little concern, he left. I saw him walk away, amazed at his change of attitude towards me. Since I started working for him he had praised my ability to do the work. Now he ignored my pain with indifference and dismissed me like a disposable item. The ninety-mile trip back to Calexico was very quiet. We were all tired and thirsty but more than anything my brother and friends respected my agony and limited their conversations. Rafael, el Poncho, el Johnny, my Compas Yuca y Chicho and I, had worked together many seasons and had survived many ordeals. We were all in a precarious economic situation after four years of crop devastation by the white fly in Imperial Valley. Unemployment was high and those who were fortunate to have a stable job did not earn enough to save for the harsh summer. We were three days away from our first paycheck. It would be a decent check that would bring relief, but for now we were down to our last dollar. We did not have enough money to buy gas for the next day or to buy some refreshments for the two-hour drive. We were wet, cold, and broke but no one complained. We acted with pride refusing to display weakness and always had faith in finding a solution. I left my brother and Compa Yuca in Calipatria thirty miles north of Calexico. We picked them up daily on our way to Coachella. Half an hour later I left Johnny, Chicho and Poncho at the border. They lived in Mexicali and crossed every day to work. As soon as I was alone I let go a long contained moan. The pain drilling my left leg was unbearable. I thought about buying a beer. Maybe a beer would ease my pain and help me to sleep. I only had three dollars left and needed money for gas the next day. It would take most of my money to buy it but I was desperate. I stopped at an AM-PM near my house and limped in the store. My toes were num and I was having difficulty raising my toes as I stepped, causing an uncontrollable limp. I was horrified at the thought of becoming crippled. I had seen many lechugueros young and old crippled by the demanding job. I had never thought it would ever happen to me. I felt so strong the day before. It was ironic how I joined other young lechugueros to harass the older or crippled workers calling them guevones because they could not keep up to the younger harvesters. The old lechugueros responded aggressively using a great variety of insults. “Así como te ves me vi y como me veo te veras ,” they said with sarcasm. I never thought it would come so soon. I entered the store and bought a caguama . “This will help me with the pain,” I kept telling myself. I wanted to believe that the caguama would heal my injury. I was desperate to get home and have a long drink of beer. But adding to my bad luck, as I limped towards the car, I stumbled and dropped the caguama shattering it as it hit the pavement of the parking lot. I could not believe my bad luck. I looked up at the sky in protest for my misfortune. I sadly saw the magic liquid spill on the floor. In despair, I let out a moan in disbelief of my tragedy. The next day Chicho, Poncho, Johnny and I met at the usual reunion point. We all had failed to borrow money. I did not even try. The pain in my leg had been terrible and I hardly slept all night. “Nomás cinco mendigos dólares ,” Poncho said laughing and showing the five dollars we had together. We hoped Rafael y mi compa Yuca were able to borrow money. We stopped at the Seven Eleven and Poncho went to pay for five dollars of gas. Again we would travel without a hot coffee and donut or having enough to buy a beer for the pain at the end of the day. Poncho finished gassing up the car and we got on Highway 111 to begin our trip. It was routine, we had been doing this for almost two weeks. We were all silent, each with our thoughts. We still had two more days before payday and it was becoming a difficult struggle to borrow from friends and family. Everybody was broke. We had a bad harvest and the summer had been cruel. In two days we would be relieved by a good check. But those few days seemed endless. The pain in my leg was a continuous torture. My concern went from being broke to being crippled. I knew several people who had the same conditions and stayed crippled forever. Most injured workers did not have the will to confront the insurance companies. They were ignored and left defenseless to face a miserable future. The idea was terrifying since I depended on my physical abilities to support my family. I was determined to fight in anyway possible to get what I deserved. I had given so much to the industry and the least they could do was to give me proper medical attention.