3/27/2008
It's hard to be on the road, far from home, and doing your thing for the public when you're sick. As nice as everybody is, and people in Kenne New Hampshire were extremely nice, you're still among strangers and you feel small and want to get in your own bed. But the show must go on.
It was a hard day getting there--we were late, for some reason, getting to the airport. And I had to hustle to a different terminal. The usual. Flew to New Hapnshire and met my loquacious van driver, George. We had to drive 100 miles into the mountains. You know how I hated that! Pine trees and snow and frozen streams and frozen lakes. I could have just driven forever up there, passing through small towns, climbing Mount Monadnock.
By the time George dropped me off at the B&B in town, I was late for my class visit. It had already been a busy day--up before 6, 50 mile dash to the airport, flight across the eastern states, 100 miles with George. I had time to run into my room and put on a tie and dash to the university to meet students. Two class lectures later, it was time for the banquet with various people I didn't know. Quite friendly. Good food. And then it was down to the theater/hall for my event. Honestly, my head was still spinning from the airport and the drive. I had a fever and my ears were ringing and I was dizzy.
There was an extraordinary event before my talk: classical musicians played an original piece for classical guitar and viola inspired by The Devil's Highway. I was amazed and moved by the music, and deeply gratified when they presented me with the libretto, I don't know why my work is showing up in music lately. I can't read music, yet I get musical scores with my anme on them. This seemes kind of mysterious and perhaps even miraculous.
It might have been the fever, but I swetaed through my clothes. I tried not to cough too much into the mike. I sprung a new policy on the audience: I brought an autograph book and told them I'd sign their books, but they had to sign mine. A great success! It was like a 9th grade yearbook signing party, and I have all kinds of really neat comments in my book. So when you come see me, bring your pen, because you're signing my book for me.
I saw dear friends I have not seen in many years--an unexpected blessing in the mnidst of feeling beat and trying to attend to my new friends. You end up feeling torn--do you hug and rub and murmur to your dear friends from the past, or do you give all your attention to the kind and open-hearted new friend who has discovered you through your writing? Because you can't do both, though you try, and you feel a sad rip inside when one or the other is forced away by the crowd.
The musicians were going out to drink--hey, they're musicians. I just couldn't. I wanted to go to bed. So my hosts walked me to the B&B and dropped me off. I got inside feeling sad and lonesome, yet crabby and evil. I could not stop coughing. I dragged myself into bed like a whiipped dog, wondering why I was the kind of writer that goes out to see people all the time. I WANTED TO STAY HOME IN MY OWN BED WITH MY OWN WIFE! Then why was I so cranky with her when we tried to talk on the phone? Miserable bad dog husband, coughing like a tubercular groundhog.
First thing this morning, there was my ol' pal George again! We were off for another sweet 100 mile drive. Back to the airport. Back on the narrow stinky crowded plane. But reading Richard Price with great awe. Choking down cough drops so the guy sitting half in my lap didn't think he was going to die of Bird Flu. Got to Chi: snowing. No. Nooooo! Not more snow!
Tony Delcavo had driven from Colorado, and he brought me a giant cow skull. He picked me up at O'Hare and we came home and we ate dinner and now I'm going to bed because we leave for Detroit first thing in the morning. And from Detroit, I fly to Austin. Texas. That li'l bit of heaven. Cindy and the girls will board my plane on my lay-over, and we'll take Chayo to see the billion bats of Austin...and I'm going to go stare at Kerouac's typed scroll, too.
It's like a weird dream--I leave Chicago only to return to Chicago only to leave Chicago only to return....
Speaking of weird dreams. It must have been my exhaustion, or maybe the fever. But last night, I dreamed I was dead. I was at my own funeral. You were there--I saw you. You were all across this big dance hall, sitting in your chairs. I was over here, with some homeys and Cinderella. They, apparently, could see me. And my job was to play a wooden flute for my own funeral. I had to see to it that sad long melancholy weepy notes played so you all would cry. How stupid! I hated it! And some of you looked over at me and saw me and laughed because you knew how stupid it was for God to make me be in charge of making you feel bad that I was dead. I said, "I don't care if they mourn or not! This is st--" when the B&B guy knocked on my door to wake me up. Apparently still alive.
Strange.
My head's actually rolling and sloshing as if I'd gone out drinking with bad-ass classical musicians.
I'll probably send you a road report from Austin or Aspen.
Viva New Hampshire! Viva Keene! Viva George! And, as far as I can tell, Viva Me!
L
Snow Day
It was a hard day getting there--we were late, for some reason, getting to the airport. And I had to hustle to a different terminal. The usual. Flew to New Hapnshire and met my loquacious van driver, George. We had to drive 100 miles into the mountains. You know how I hated that! Pine trees and snow and frozen streams and frozen lakes. I could have just driven forever up there, passing through small towns, climbing Mount Monadnock.
By the time George dropped me off at the B&B in town, I was late for my class visit. It had already been a busy day--up before 6, 50 mile dash to the airport, flight across the eastern states, 100 miles with George. I had time to run into my room and put on a tie and dash to the university to meet students. Two class lectures later, it was time for the banquet with various people I didn't know. Quite friendly. Good food. And then it was down to the theater/hall for my event. Honestly, my head was still spinning from the airport and the drive. I had a fever and my ears were ringing and I was dizzy.
There was an extraordinary event before my talk: classical musicians played an original piece for classical guitar and viola inspired by The Devil's Highway. I was amazed and moved by the music, and deeply gratified when they presented me with the libretto, I don't know why my work is showing up in music lately. I can't read music, yet I get musical scores with my anme on them. This seemes kind of mysterious and perhaps even miraculous.
It might have been the fever, but I swetaed through my clothes. I tried not to cough too much into the mike. I sprung a new policy on the audience: I brought an autograph book and told them I'd sign their books, but they had to sign mine. A great success! It was like a 9th grade yearbook signing party, and I have all kinds of really neat comments in my book. So when you come see me, bring your pen, because you're signing my book for me.
I saw dear friends I have not seen in many years--an unexpected blessing in the mnidst of feeling beat and trying to attend to my new friends. You end up feeling torn--do you hug and rub and murmur to your dear friends from the past, or do you give all your attention to the kind and open-hearted new friend who has discovered you through your writing? Because you can't do both, though you try, and you feel a sad rip inside when one or the other is forced away by the crowd.
The musicians were going out to drink--hey, they're musicians. I just couldn't. I wanted to go to bed. So my hosts walked me to the B&B and dropped me off. I got inside feeling sad and lonesome, yet crabby and evil. I could not stop coughing. I dragged myself into bed like a whiipped dog, wondering why I was the kind of writer that goes out to see people all the time. I WANTED TO STAY HOME IN MY OWN BED WITH MY OWN WIFE! Then why was I so cranky with her when we tried to talk on the phone? Miserable bad dog husband, coughing like a tubercular groundhog.
First thing this morning, there was my ol' pal George again! We were off for another sweet 100 mile drive. Back to the airport. Back on the narrow stinky crowded plane. But reading Richard Price with great awe. Choking down cough drops so the guy sitting half in my lap didn't think he was going to die of Bird Flu. Got to Chi: snowing. No. Nooooo! Not more snow!
Tony Delcavo had driven from Colorado, and he brought me a giant cow skull. He picked me up at O'Hare and we came home and we ate dinner and now I'm going to bed because we leave for Detroit first thing in the morning. And from Detroit, I fly to Austin. Texas. That li'l bit of heaven. Cindy and the girls will board my plane on my lay-over, and we'll take Chayo to see the billion bats of Austin...and I'm going to go stare at Kerouac's typed scroll, too.
It's like a weird dream--I leave Chicago only to return to Chicago only to leave Chicago only to return....
Speaking of weird dreams. It must have been my exhaustion, or maybe the fever. But last night, I dreamed I was dead. I was at my own funeral. You were there--I saw you. You were all across this big dance hall, sitting in your chairs. I was over here, with some homeys and Cinderella. They, apparently, could see me. And my job was to play a wooden flute for my own funeral. I had to see to it that sad long melancholy weepy notes played so you all would cry. How stupid! I hated it! And some of you looked over at me and saw me and laughed because you knew how stupid it was for God to make me be in charge of making you feel bad that I was dead. I said, "I don't care if they mourn or not! This is st--" when the B&B guy knocked on my door to wake me up. Apparently still alive.
Strange.
My head's actually rolling and sloshing as if I'd gone out drinking with bad-ass classical musicians.
I'll probably send you a road report from Austin or Aspen.
Viva New Hampshire! Viva Keene! Viva George! And, as far as I can tell, Viva Me!
L
3/21/2008
If, as some are saying, this is the last snow of the season, it's a good one. The flakes are thick and heavy--if you step outside, you can hear them hiss as they hit the ground. Almost as loud as rain. Of course, nobody is stepping uotside because we're all sick. Eric is home from college, and he is the only one not stricken with flu, but that's because he had it last week. He's dragging his nu-metal shred band, CUGSNT (WTF, Eric, WTF???), into our basement to rattle the foundations.
I'm getting ready to go on the road again. Got to get well. How does Shawn Phillips do it? I know he spent several days in bed somewhere in NY state with the flu. Then he drove himself all over the USA. He's still at it, too.
It's hard enough to just drag down to the airport and trundle off. Got to be in top form for this foolishness. Fly to New Hampshire and entertain everybody. Fly home and jump in a car with Tony and drive to Detroit. Fly back and meet Cinderella and the girls and fly to Austin. Do my gig, check out the Kerouac ON THE ROAD scroll while I'm in town, fly to Denver and rent a car and drive up to Aspen. No wonder it's hard to settle down and teach when I get home. The classroom seems so...small.
My school knows it, too. They are making me kind and generous offers to get me to stay on for three more years. I'm still such a kid at heart that three years seems like, well, forever.
Nothing too inspirational today. Just coughing, sore ribs, and a small fever. Just checking in.
L
Urrea: The Comic Book
I'm getting ready to go on the road again. Got to get well. How does Shawn Phillips do it? I know he spent several days in bed somewhere in NY state with the flu. Then he drove himself all over the USA. He's still at it, too.
It's hard enough to just drag down to the airport and trundle off. Got to be in top form for this foolishness. Fly to New Hampshire and entertain everybody. Fly home and jump in a car with Tony and drive to Detroit. Fly back and meet Cinderella and the girls and fly to Austin. Do my gig, check out the Kerouac ON THE ROAD scroll while I'm in town, fly to Denver and rent a car and drive up to Aspen. No wonder it's hard to settle down and teach when I get home. The classroom seems so...small.
My school knows it, too. They are making me kind and generous offers to get me to stay on for three more years. I'm still such a kid at heart that three years seems like, well, forever.
Nothing too inspirational today. Just coughing, sore ribs, and a small fever. Just checking in.
L
3/18/2008
Want to read something cool? My old pal, that bandido Bobby Byrd, published my book of stories called Six Kinds of Sky. It has had a funny life all its own, that book. After all, the story, "Bid Farewell to Her Many Horses" has had a great run on NPR on their Selected Shorts show. And it has been included in a Best Stories of the American West hardcover anthology. And Vikki Wagner (of Hummingbird movie fame) and my dear former boss-lady at the Theater Arts Guild, Judy Bell, are talking about buying it for a movie. Among the six stories in that book there's this one I have always been really fond of, "Mr. Mendoza's Paintbrush." I used to do it at readings for years, and it always brought the house down. Perhaps I should take a cue from Shawn Phillips on his current tour and go back to opd hits the fans love. (See last posting, below.)
Well, Papa Byrd has gotten this mad idea that my story would make a great graphic novel. It hit me with a shock: absolutely right! If you don't know the story, I won't spoil it. But somebody does walk into the sky. You've got to see that kind of thing for yourself. And, my piratical side awoke--with all these movies flying around me lately, a hipster director could see the visual possibilities right away in this format.
So hot young artist Crisopher Cardinale is signed up, and he went down to Sinaloa to see what the town I write about looks like. Sketching and painting and drawing the various wonders of the kind of place you find below the Tropic of Cancer where trees drop mangos and iguanas are four feet long and the spiders in your bnedroom can be as big as plates. And people walk into the sky. My family pitched in when he got there.
Byrd wrote about it on his blog. Take a look--it's a good story. Click HERE.
Me--I'm reeling. Got good edits from my animal-trainers in NYC, and some ass-stomping from my agents in CA. Trying to figure out what I'll do to make Beautiful North the inevitable and potent amazement it almost is. I'll be done with it in a month or so, and to hell with quibbles. I have to get to Hummingbird II.
Luis
3/10/2008
Wasn't it Joni Mitchell who sang, "I woke up today and found/ Snow upon the town..."? I found just that when I got up. Again. The world seems sad and resigned under the wool blanket of the winter that will not die. Geese who have flown in are huddled on lawns they mistook for ponds, wearing mantles of white. As I watched the news this morning, the turkey glared in at me through my back porch door, and the idiot dog launched off the couch and nearly knocked herself out on the glass. The turkey, unimpressed, seemed to say "Pshaw!" and strolled away. It had been out there inspecting Shawn Phillips' cigarette butts, but it found nothing worth eating.
He's on his "Shawn Phillips 65th Birthday Tour." Here from South Africa. Driving alone all over America. Cinderella and I went on down to Fitzgerald's in Berwyn, and the guy at the door said, "I know you. Come on in." But the joint was already completely packed out. SRO. We squeezed ourselves into a small space behind the bend in the bar and stood there. They completely sold out their capacity, and a guy told me later he'd paid a $20 bribe to sneak in. Wow. Who knew you could go away for a couple of years and suddenly madness would set in among your fans.
Shawn was in great form--he hit all the high notes, which I did not think he could do. He gave me some very sweet shout-outs from the stage, and he performed what I call the "Teresita Suite" from the Hummingbird audiobook (he composed the music) and then he sang "The Devil's Highway," inspired by the book. Fans all around petted me as if I were their own SP-gnome.
After the gig, he sat in the heated tent besieged by fans. It was cool to see. All these graying guys with ponytails clutching scuffed-up LPs of "Second Contribution." I gave him some hugs and told him I'd see him at the house the next day. I was pensive on the way home, as I am after I see him plasy. It's hard to picture a body of music that accompanied you along the many paths from the ager of 13 or 14 on to now. The songs I sued to play for Prudence over the phone at midnight. The songs I made love to. The songs I took to Mexico to my dearest cousins, some of whom are dead now. Stuff I listened to when I was young. Seems a very long time ago.
On Sunday SP came down to the house and we had a great day. We called pals on the phone, and we ate, and we watched TV. Megan made Shawn cookies for the road. Chayo tortured him with her pet rat. And then it was night, and brother Phillips got back in his tour truck and headed for Austin, Texas. Where I'll be in about a month.
Joe Ely said it: "The road goes on forever/ The party never ends..."
L
Immigration Monday: Re-define the Line
He's on his "Shawn Phillips 65th Birthday Tour." Here from South Africa. Driving alone all over America. Cinderella and I went on down to Fitzgerald's in Berwyn, and the guy at the door said, "I know you. Come on in." But the joint was already completely packed out. SRO. We squeezed ourselves into a small space behind the bend in the bar and stood there. They completely sold out their capacity, and a guy told me later he'd paid a $20 bribe to sneak in. Wow. Who knew you could go away for a couple of years and suddenly madness would set in among your fans.
Shawn was in great form--he hit all the high notes, which I did not think he could do. He gave me some very sweet shout-outs from the stage, and he performed what I call the "Teresita Suite" from the Hummingbird audiobook (he composed the music) and then he sang "The Devil's Highway," inspired by the book. Fans all around petted me as if I were their own SP-gnome.
After the gig, he sat in the heated tent besieged by fans. It was cool to see. All these graying guys with ponytails clutching scuffed-up LPs of "Second Contribution." I gave him some hugs and told him I'd see him at the house the next day. I was pensive on the way home, as I am after I see him plasy. It's hard to picture a body of music that accompanied you along the many paths from the ager of 13 or 14 on to now. The songs I sued to play for Prudence over the phone at midnight. The songs I made love to. The songs I took to Mexico to my dearest cousins, some of whom are dead now. Stuff I listened to when I was young. Seems a very long time ago.
On Sunday SP came down to the house and we had a great day. We called pals on the phone, and we ate, and we watched TV. Megan made Shawn cookies for the road. Chayo tortured him with her pet rat. And then it was night, and brother Phillips got back in his tour truck and headed for Austin, Texas. Where I'll be in about a month.
Joe Ely said it: "The road goes on forever/ The party never ends..."
L
3/03/2008
March 3, 2008
I have been saying for a while now that I’m getting out of the immigration business. After all, Geraldo Rivera has just written a definitive book about the topic. But colleges and cities across America keep selecting THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY for their Big Read projects. I’ll be rushing off to New Hampshire, and then to Texas, and then to D.C., and then to California…. Not one of those events has requested my thoughts on the haiku of Issa or the nature writings of Annie Dillard! It’s All Border Patrol, All the Time!
It’s coming out in June in Italian, and now it’s being translated into Turkish! Mexico does not care about the walkers and the migra—no Spanish edition on the schedule-- but Rome and Istanbul do. So does Kankakee. It’s all a big mystery.
I also have a good essay coming your way from my Immigration Lawyer.
So here’s what I think I’ll do: Immigration Monday is going to change. I’m going to call it Immigration Month. Maybe on the first Monday of every month, we’ll post some immigration info/rants/data/links. Just to keep a hand in this evil game. Maybe.
For now, our beloved Grace, of Grace and Clarke, has prepared a useful blog about human trafficking. Excellent stuff. She has also sent me a few extra links, which I will post later.
For now, I’m taking some time off. Staying away from the border and the USBP and coyotes and Lou Dobbs and Geraldo.
Thank you, Grace.
And remember, troops: WWJD? WhoWould Jesus Deport?
Luis
FOR DAILY IMMIGRATION UPDATES AND NEWS ON THE HIDDEN AGENDA(S) OF THE BORDER, GO TO:
HERE
_______________________________________________________________________
When many people think about human trafficking, they often have some vague idea
about women and children in brothels in exotic and far away places. That’s true, but only partly so. That’s one piece of the picture. Men are also victims. And the sex trade is only part of it. Exotic faraway place? Well, in the US roughly 18,000 men, women and children are trafficked annually. According to some sources two million are trafficked annually worldwide and there are 27 million people in slavery around the world. The world includes the US.
We have slaves in this country. Agriculture, factories, sex slaves, domestic labor, construction, restaurant work, hotel/motel housekeeping are just a few of the ways you can be a modern-day slave. Forget migrant labor, why pay someone low wages when you can pay them no wages? Brilliant! Slavery is the answer. Where is La Migra when you need them?
The United Nations Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, especially Women and Children (one of three "Palermo Protocols"), defines trafficking in persons as:
“the recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring or receipt of persons, by means of threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation. Exploitation shall include, at a minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual exploitation, forced labor or services, slavery or practices similar to slavery, servitude or the removal of organs.”
But wait, that’s not all:
The TVPA (Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 [22 U.S.C. 7101 et seq.]) defines "severe forms of trafficking," as: “sex trafficking in which a commercial sex act is induced by force, fraud, or coercion, or in which the person induced to perform such an act has not attained 18 years of age; or the recruitment, harboring, transportation, provision, or obtaining of a person for labor or services, through the use of force, fraud, or coercion for the purpose of subjection to involuntary servitude, peonage, debt bondage, or slavery.”
But let’s face it, if you say no and you’re not paid, you’re a slave.
If you do a Google search for slavery in America, you will find the Civil War, but you will also find contemporary cases. Recent cases. The case of a rich couple in NY who had two Indonesian domestic workers enslaved for 5 years in their home until one of them escaped. Wearing a towel and pants and wanting desperately to go home. Factory workers in NY, field workers in California. The trafficked come from around the world: Mexico, South America, Central America, Asia, Africa, everywhere.
Some are kidnapped, some are sold by families, some are coerced, some enter legally and have their visas and documents stolen by their ‘employers’ who keep them isolated, terrified and separated from their families and friends. Unable to speak English and with no money, no place to go and no friends or resources they become slaves. They are locked up in squalid conditions for years at a time. Often in the case of domestic workers, they are never allowed outside. They are lied to, threatened and beaten. Field workers are locked in trailers.
Organized crime is getting into trafficking; it’s more profitable and less dangerous than dealing drugs. Businesses even contract with traffickers to supply labor for their factories, their fields and their homes.
There are three kinds of countries involved in human trafficking: transit countries, origin countries and destination countries. The US falls into all three categories. People are trafficked in, out and through. Trafficking doesn’t have to be international; you can move someone within a country for them to be trafficked. Sex workers are one example. Children are at particular risk and in some countries there are ‘child-sex tourists.’ Children can also be used in snuff films for those who enjoy watching death and torture.
But don’t just believe me, do the research. Some of the information above comes from the Freedom Network. They give workshops and trainings for social service caseworkers. I took the seminar when I was a crisis center worker.
There’s an interesting article from the US Embassy in El Salvador about trafficking and slavery: http://sansalvador.usembassy.gov/news/2004/06/introduction.html
The Southern Poverty Law Center has a report on the abuses of the guest worker program called “Close to Slavery” which can be accessed online. They are a good group, check out their website.
Other groups working against trafficking are:
Coalition to Abolish Slavery and Trafficking www.castla.org
National Immigrant Law Center www.nilc.org
Anti Slavery Campaign Coalition of Immokalee Workers
www.ciw-online.org
Break the Chain
This comes from their website: “Imagine you are locked in your own private prison. You do not speak the same language as your subjugator. On the rare occasion you are escorted off of the premise, you are forbidden from talking to anyone. You are often fed the leftover food of the children you are required to watch while completing your around-the-clock household cleaning. You have never been paid for your labors and are sometimes physically abused by the woman of the house.
While this scenario seems to hark back to an earlier time in US history, it describes the working conditions of many domestic workers in the Washington, DC area. Unfortunately, modern-day slavery and worker exploitation is currently being practiced here in this country, right in the shadow of the nation’s Capitol.
The Break the Chain Campaign works with domestic workers who are being held against their will, literally enslaved in the homes they clean. BTCC provides direct legal and support services to abused workers in the DC area, assists on cases nationally, and advocates for policy reform for this and other forms of human trafficking and exploitation.”
The Initiative Against Trafficking in Persons, Global Rights:
Once you reach that page click on What We Do, then Initiatives and the Human Trafficking. Be sure and read the article Slavery in Our Midst.
A very comprehensive website is Human Trafficking.Org. They cover many countries, but here is the link to the US.
Human Trafficking & Modern Day Slavery http://gvnet.com/humantrafficking/
A country-by-country list of human trafficking
The US government even acknowledges trafficking as a problem, although not really admitting it happens here: http://www.acf.hhs.gov/trafficking/
Ok, I’ve gotten you started; there are lots and lots of websites to check out. Go to it.
I have been saying for a while now that I’m getting out of the immigration business. After all, Geraldo Rivera has just written a definitive book about the topic. But colleges and cities across America keep selecting THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY for their Big Read projects. I’ll be rushing off to New Hampshire, and then to Texas, and then to D.C., and then to California…. Not one of those events has requested my thoughts on the haiku of Issa or the nature writings of Annie Dillard! It’s All Border Patrol, All the Time!
It’s coming out in June in Italian, and now it’s being translated into Turkish! Mexico does not care about the walkers and the migra—no Spanish edition on the schedule-- but Rome and Istanbul do. So does Kankakee. It’s all a big mystery.
I also have a good essay coming your way from my Immigration Lawyer.
So here’s what I think I’ll do: Immigration Monday is going to change. I’m going to call it Immigration Month. Maybe on the first Monday of every month, we’ll post some immigration info/rants/data/links. Just to keep a hand in this evil game. Maybe.
For now, our beloved Grace, of Grace and Clarke, has prepared a useful blog about human trafficking. Excellent stuff. She has also sent me a few extra links, which I will post later.
For now, I’m taking some time off. Staying away from the border and the USBP and coyotes and Lou Dobbs and Geraldo.
Thank you, Grace.
And remember, troops: WWJD? WhoWould Jesus Deport?
Luis
FOR DAILY IMMIGRATION UPDATES AND NEWS ON THE HIDDEN AGENDA(S) OF THE BORDER, GO TO:
HERE
_______________________________________________________________________
When many people think about human trafficking, they often have some vague idea
about women and children in brothels in exotic and far away places. That’s true, but only partly so. That’s one piece of the picture. Men are also victims. And the sex trade is only part of it. Exotic faraway place? Well, in the US roughly 18,000 men, women and children are trafficked annually. According to some sources two million are trafficked annually worldwide and there are 27 million people in slavery around the world. The world includes the US.
We have slaves in this country. Agriculture, factories, sex slaves, domestic labor, construction, restaurant work, hotel/motel housekeeping are just a few of the ways you can be a modern-day slave. Forget migrant labor, why pay someone low wages when you can pay them no wages? Brilliant! Slavery is the answer. Where is La Migra when you need them?
The United Nations Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, especially Women and Children (one of three "Palermo Protocols"), defines trafficking in persons as:
“the recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring or receipt of persons, by means of threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation. Exploitation shall include, at a minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual exploitation, forced labor or services, slavery or practices similar to slavery, servitude or the removal of organs.”
But wait, that’s not all:
The TVPA (Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 [22 U.S.C. 7101 et seq.]) defines "severe forms of trafficking," as: “sex trafficking in which a commercial sex act is induced by force, fraud, or coercion, or in which the person induced to perform such an act has not attained 18 years of age; or the recruitment, harboring, transportation, provision, or obtaining of a person for labor or services, through the use of force, fraud, or coercion for the purpose of subjection to involuntary servitude, peonage, debt bondage, or slavery.”
But let’s face it, if you say no and you’re not paid, you’re a slave.
If you do a Google search for slavery in America, you will find the Civil War, but you will also find contemporary cases. Recent cases. The case of a rich couple in NY who had two Indonesian domestic workers enslaved for 5 years in their home until one of them escaped. Wearing a towel and pants and wanting desperately to go home. Factory workers in NY, field workers in California. The trafficked come from around the world: Mexico, South America, Central America, Asia, Africa, everywhere.
Some are kidnapped, some are sold by families, some are coerced, some enter legally and have their visas and documents stolen by their ‘employers’ who keep them isolated, terrified and separated from their families and friends. Unable to speak English and with no money, no place to go and no friends or resources they become slaves. They are locked up in squalid conditions for years at a time. Often in the case of domestic workers, they are never allowed outside. They are lied to, threatened and beaten. Field workers are locked in trailers.
Organized crime is getting into trafficking; it’s more profitable and less dangerous than dealing drugs. Businesses even contract with traffickers to supply labor for their factories, their fields and their homes.
There are three kinds of countries involved in human trafficking: transit countries, origin countries and destination countries. The US falls into all three categories. People are trafficked in, out and through. Trafficking doesn’t have to be international; you can move someone within a country for them to be trafficked. Sex workers are one example. Children are at particular risk and in some countries there are ‘child-sex tourists.’ Children can also be used in snuff films for those who enjoy watching death and torture.
But don’t just believe me, do the research. Some of the information above comes from the Freedom Network. They give workshops and trainings for social service caseworkers. I took the seminar when I was a crisis center worker.
There’s an interesting article from the US Embassy in El Salvador about trafficking and slavery: http://sansalvador.usembassy.gov/news/2004/06/introduction.html
The Southern Poverty Law Center has a report on the abuses of the guest worker program called “Close to Slavery” which can be accessed online. They are a good group, check out their website.
Other groups working against trafficking are:
Coalition to Abolish Slavery and Trafficking www.castla.org
National Immigrant Law Center www.nilc.org
Anti Slavery Campaign Coalition of Immokalee Workers
www.ciw-online.org
Break the Chain
This comes from their website: “Imagine you are locked in your own private prison. You do not speak the same language as your subjugator. On the rare occasion you are escorted off of the premise, you are forbidden from talking to anyone. You are often fed the leftover food of the children you are required to watch while completing your around-the-clock household cleaning. You have never been paid for your labors and are sometimes physically abused by the woman of the house.
While this scenario seems to hark back to an earlier time in US history, it describes the working conditions of many domestic workers in the Washington, DC area. Unfortunately, modern-day slavery and worker exploitation is currently being practiced here in this country, right in the shadow of the nation’s Capitol.
The Break the Chain Campaign works with domestic workers who are being held against their will, literally enslaved in the homes they clean. BTCC provides direct legal and support services to abused workers in the DC area, assists on cases nationally, and advocates for policy reform for this and other forms of human trafficking and exploitation.”
The Initiative Against Trafficking in Persons, Global Rights:
Once you reach that page click on What We Do, then Initiatives and the Human Trafficking. Be sure and read the article Slavery in Our Midst.
A very comprehensive website is Human Trafficking.Org. They cover many countries, but here is the link to the US.
Human Trafficking & Modern Day Slavery http://gvnet.com/humantrafficking/
A country-by-country list of human trafficking
The US government even acknowledges trafficking as a problem, although not really admitting it happens here: http://www.acf.hhs.gov/trafficking/
Ok, I’ve gotten you started; there are lots and lots of websites to check out. Go to it.
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