What do you suppose would happen if Canada had a minimum [hourly] wage of $100?-Barack Obama, discussing immigration.
I would like to tell you about Juan Valdez [not his real name], a poor farm boy from a Central American country who came to the United States, perhaps "illegally." This story can be accepted as written or dismissed as an urban legend, depending on your point of view. Perhaps it is has elements of both.
Juan grew up in the town where many of the homes lacked wooden floors, electric power and running water. Also, it was an area where there were few economic opportunities. At age 23, Juan decided he had enough of this way of life, so he decided he would go to the United States.
He crossed the border at a poorly patrolled location near Laredo, Texas. From there he hitch hiked north on U. S. rte. 59, then east on Interstate-10 to Jacksonville, Florida. He then went north on Interstate-95 and ended up in Northern Virginia. The trip took five days, during which time he slept under bridges and subsisted on cold sandwiches.
At his destination he had less then ten dollars in his pocket, but he was taken in by a church group that had many Hispanic parishioners. Eventually he found another place to stay and he mastered the art of finding work as a day laborer. Life for him was far from perfect, but at least his future was bright, or so he thought.
Juan did not have a car or a driver's license, so he got around on an old bicycle that had been given to him by a church member. One afternoon, as he was leaving the day laborer site for his residence, two blue-and-white police cars approached. One stopped in front of him, and the other stopped behind him, as if to block an escape route. The officers said they were arresting him for breaking a law that required protective headgear for bicyclists. Further, they said they also had "probable cause" to believe he was in the country illegally since he "was observed" at a day laborer site.
Juan's bicycle was confiscated, and he was taken to a detention center where officers took turns questioning him about his national origin. Juan insisted he had not broken any laws, but said little else. Finally, after 3 hours of questioning, Juan broke down. He said he would "tell everything."
In hesitant and broken English, Juan explained he was from the town of El Cobre, located in the Santiago de Cuba Province of Cuba. He said he earned a living by transporting bags of coffee beans on a mule from farming areas in the Sierra Maestra Mountains to collection points at lower levels. He said he went to Mexico in a boatlift from Cuba and from there traveled by foot into the United States.
The stunned officers glared at him and accused him of being a liar. Juan just looked at the officers and then calmly retrieved a crumpled map of Cuba with the town of El Cobre circled. Further, he produced a receipt from the El Cobre Farmacia (pharmacy) that showed a recent purchase. Finally, he produced a photograph of himself wearing a sombrero and a shoulder blanket, standing next to his beloved mule, Conchita, loaded with bags of coffee beans.
The officers again accused him of being a liar and threatened to turn him over to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) people for deportation to Cuba, if that is where he insisted he was from. At that point, Juan asked for a piece of paper, upon which he wrote four words: "wet-foot, dry-foot". The puzzled officers took the note to a superior but returned after just a few minutes. Juan was free to go.
See also: http://immigration.yolasite.com
For an explanation of wet-foot, dry-foot, go to: http://www.usimmigrationsupport.org/wetfoot-dryfoot.html
Author's URL: http://garyjacobsen.synthasite.com
