Agriculture wouldn’t be sustainable in the Okanagan without the strenuous labour of seasonal guest workers. It used to be French-Canadians we underappreciated (even despised) in this role. Now the workers are coming from Mexico — under a new set of rules. Just how is this latest, essential yet almost invisible, group of people being treated?
By Karin Wilson
Row upon row of black plastic tubs filled with shrubs, evergreens, vines and all manner of plants line the landscape with almost military precision in the hills off Highway 97 on the Westside. Some rest beneath the shade of greenhouses, others stand like sentinels willing to face whatever weather Mother Nature cares to send their way. And there’s been a lot of heavy weather this July — scorching hot sun followed by fierce pounding rains. Bad enough for the plants, but for their human caretakers, it’s enough to make them wince or want to run.
Although that rarely happens, says Bylands Nursery business manager Colin Cruikshank, since the company decided three years ago to invest in the Mexican farm workers program. These people not only work steady, they work long. So much so that Bylands recently had to force them to take time off. “We have, by choice, decided they should have more time off than they would prefer. They would work 12 hours a day seven days a week if we let them. But we’ve said on Sundays they can only work up to four hours now.”
That’s the way it is with the nearly 600 Mexican agricultural workers in the Okanagan Valley this year — they want to make as much money as possible in the few short months they’re here.
“Every people is coming here for a job,” says Jesus Hernandez-Machuca, a pair of earphones dangling from the top of his denim shirt pocket as he tends to the pruning. “Back home I worked too many jobs — I was a carpenter, a supervisor, I worked in security, but the money’s better here.”
Early this spring Hernandez-Machuca packed his bags, leaving behind his wife and four-year-old daughter in the agricultural state of Michoacan, home of the avocado. “I came here last year for eight months and now I’m here again for another eight months. It’s hard with my wife. At first she disagreed, but I convinced her this was the best. It’s not easy for her, but it’s going okay. We need the money. In Mexico, it’s a hard life.”
Like most of the 40 other workers at Bylands, Hernandez-Machuca lives on-site in a construction trailer. A few yards away another trailer doubles as the lunchroom, equipped with a satellite TV that picks up Spanish language programs.
“When I’m not working I clean my clothes, clean the house, shop for food at the grocery store. We don’t have much time for other things. Maybe take a shower. Go into Kelowna to pick up tortillas at the Oriental Market.”
Hernandez-Machuca demonstrates how to prune efficiently. He lines up the black pots and walks deftly among them, snipping away any stray vines that trail over the side. “If it gets too tall — how you say flopping — it doesn’t look good. And if there is a change in the colour, it’s no good for sale.”
Backgrounder
Seven years ago Cruikshank was doing some pruning of his own — the financial kind. Business wasn’t looking so good for the largest nursery in Western Canada. Farm workers were nearly impossible to find and he knew the company would be in trouble unless things changed.
A spark of hope was ignited in 2004 when the BC government adopted the Seasonal Agricultural Workers Program (SAWP), which was already being used in eight other provinces. The program is managed by Human Resources and Skills Development Canada and Citizenship and Immigration Canada in cooperation with a number of Caribbean countries and Mexico. Under the terms of SAWP, foreign workers receive wages commensurate with those of Canadians, employer-paid international airfare, subsidized housing and health and medical benefits. A year after launch, the BC program was expanded to include nurseries. Bylands grabbed it. The investment has been significant — nearly half a million dollars.
“If we didn’t invest in this, we would have had to downsize the nursery. I don’t see how we would have maintained the business. We used to get the French-Canadians and new immigrants here, but there’s nothing sexy about being an agricultural worker. Now people are working in construction and at some point we could pay enough to get them, but it would break the nursery.”
Bylands’ money went into airline tickets and housing — right down to the bedsheets. The company renovated the old family homestead and purchased six air-conditioned construction trailers complete with brand new appliances. In Mexican circles, working at Bylands is like living in the lap of luxury. But it’s not the same everywhere. Cruikshank admits that housing is the one area of the program that needs work. “A lot of smaller operations are finding rental accommodation where they can or housing them where they can. The majority of Mexicans are not being housed as well as they can be housed.”
No Bed of Roses
This is a huge concern for Rosio Alvarez of Westbank, who acts as migrant support worker for the United Food and Commercial Workers Union (UFCW) — the organization that recently unionized migrant farm labourers in Manitoba.
“There are some huge issues in the Okanagan,” says Alvarez. “Some of the trailers are unreal,” she adds, describing situations like 20 men sharing a single unit where three or four men are crammed into each small room.
UFCW representatives aren’t permitted to enter farm sites without permission from the grower, so they post notices at specialty food markets and Catholic churches. Since the union’s doors opened here in April, Alvarez’ phone has been ringing off the hook — sometimes with horror stories.
“There were a few fellows who were supposed to be in Osoyoos, we found them here in Kelowna where they were working in a very bad situation with no bathroom, no water for a toilet. The farmer in Osoyoos had traded them and sent them to another farm. They had to walk one kilometre to go and do their groceries and were woken up in the middle of the night to switch the sprinklers on. They were eventually moved off the Kelowna farm, but it took the Mexican Consulate (which acts as the Government Agent for workers) one or two weeks. I didn’t expect there to be so much corruption here, but there is. My eyes are square hearing it. I can’t believe how some people treat them like a slave.”
Alvarez insists the UFCW is not here to unionize workers, but to ensure their rights are protected. While government rules and regulations are extensive, inspections are conducted before Mexican workers arrive, virtually no checking is done once they’re here and within eight months, they’re gone. That’s a quick turnaround in government bureaucratic terms. Factor in a significant language barrier with the possible risk of job loss and it’s not hard to see that official complaints would be few and far between.
“The system is not completely foolproof,” admits Mike Wallis, manager of the Western Agriculture Labour Initiative — an industry-based advocacy and liaison group headquartered in Abbotsford. “I suppose an employer could do as you suggest (trade workers off to another farm). However … the Mexican Consulate, designated the government agent, has final say on whether they will allow their workers to work on a certain farm. If an employer was housing employees in substandard conditions, it would not be long before it was found out.”
Old Problem, New Reality
Farm worker housing has been an issue in the region for decades. In the 1990s city dwellers complained loudly of French-Canadian pickers tenting and using Okanagan Lake as a latrine. Some growers made efforts to create quality picker campgrounds — notably in Oliver. But with the Mexican workers, regulations prohibit camping. Even housing workers in a fifth wheel is verboten — the sleeping quarters don’t offer enough ventilation.
That leaves Rosa and Armindo Lopes welcoming Jim Wright into their small, tidy manufactured home in Cawston. Wright is the only inspector in the Interior licensed to ensure that Mexican workers have adequate housing. Since February he’s approved accommodation for 700 workers from Salmon Arm to Osoyoos and over to Grand Forks. It’s late in the season now to be inspecting, but the Lopeses are desperate.
For a number of years they hired a couple (not Mexican workers) who lived in their own rental accommodation in the awston area. When the woman became pregnant, their landlord said they’d have to move out.
“We were paying them $12.50 an hour and holiday pay, but they couldn’t find anywhere to live. There was nothing to be rented,” Rosa says. The couple left for Vancouver, leaving the Lopeses little option but to apply to bring two Mexicans into their home — taking up their grown-children’s bedrooms.
“I’ve been here for 30 years, and now it’s hard to find workers,” Armindo says. “People don’t stay with the job. They work for a couple of weeks and then take off. If we don’t have that program (SAWP), the fruit would stay on the trees.”
Wright measures off each of the small bedrooms, checking that the windows open. Sleeping quarters need to be properly ventilated. He peeks into the bathroom then walks downstairs to inspect the TV room. There are no windows in the basement, but the measurements meet the standards for living space. Back upstairs he reminds the Lopeses to get a fire extinguisher for the kitchen they’ll all be sharing.
Rosa makes out a cheque — paid directly to Wright (there’s no arms length requirement for inspections) — and he hands over the paperwork. Deal done. It’s a sign of the times and a sign of what’s to come. Already Armindo is mentally preparing to build a cabin next year at a cost of $30,000 to $40,000. He understands the workers need quality accommodation, but after three decades in the industry all this regulation is unfamiliar territory.
“If they were from Quebec, nobody would care how they were living, so why do they care about the Mexicans. It’s different now.”
Rosa doesn’t seem to mind. She just wants someone to get the apples off the trees. Armindo shrugs.
“It’s another cost to the farmer, I guess.”
And for the Mexican workers …?
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