Jose Luis arrived at a sweatshop, deceived by a human trafficker. Nonetheless, he was able to escape the situation and today fights for the rights of employees of Levi’s.
José Luis Ychuta is an exception to the rule. He was able to free himself from the sweatshop where he once lived and worked and now represents and defends the rights of 150 of his coworkers at the Spring factory, a licensed brand of Levi’s. Six years have passed since he begged the sweatshop owner for his identification documents in order to leave the shop where he was living and working 16 hour days. Today, he speaks face to face with the owner of Spring and the treasurer of the Chamber of Clothing, Mario Abbat, about wage increases and improvements in working conditions.
Jose Luis has integrated the Sewing Workers Union (Unión de Trabajadores Costureros), and La Alameda, a non-profit organization that takes on such issues of violations of workers’ rights, in order to revive the Garment Workers' Labor Union (Sindicato Obrero del Vestido y Afines). He is now 28 and has finished high school. He was not able to move on to the University, because of financial reasons. His father was a miner and taxi driver, his mother a craftswoman. He grew up in the shantytown/city of El Alto, in La Paz, Bolivia with his four brothers. Since the age of 15 he would work summers. After finishing high school, desperate for work, he heard of an offer in Argentina from the aunt of a close friend named Marcos. “You’re going to make a good salary and be able to buy whatever clothes you like”, she said, “I will pay for your food and housing, don’t worry.” In reality, the aunt was actually a human trafficker that set up her own nephew, as well as his friend Jose Luis. She took them to the border town of Villazón and paid for the trip across the northern half of Argentina to the neighborhood of Liniers. “[Traveling] with Marcos, it seemed it would be an adventure, but things were not as they seemed. She bought us nice meals, she was very obliging at first, but everything began to change the moment she forced me to give her my DNI [identification documents] in order to cross the border.”
Q: What were you thinking during the trip to Buenos Aires and when did you first enter the sweatshop?
A: In the beginning of the trip, the landscape looked a lot like Bolivia. Later, we began to see trees, greenery, the people looked different. Distinct clothes and their skin color. I thought of all that I was leaving behind. [Marcos' aunt] told us to bring few belongings, no more than one bag. When I entered the sweatshop on the corner of Larrazábal Avenue and Juan B. Alberdi, they placed me next to the kitchen. It was separated by a piece of plastic and there was a bunk bed. The first morning, Miriam (Marcos’ aunt) brought us bills (for the “cost of the trip”). Later, she told us that the pay was for garments and we would receive 30 cents. We would make the brand Rach Surf. We worked a lot and only were allowed a cup of tea for breakfast. Sometimes I would look out the window. I wanted to locate where Bolivia was. I would see the people walking by and it all seemed grey. I wanted to walk [about freely] like them but immediately the head of the sweatshop would scold me, saying that the neighbors would be able to see and report him.
Q: What was the deal that the sweatshop owner made with you?
A: She told us that the Argentines hated the Bolivians because we work. She would threaten us saying that if the police saw us they would put us in prison. She had a good friendship with them [the police]. One Saturday afternoon with my friend Marcos walking through Liniers we saw the shirts we were making. We saw the price at which they were selling them in the mall. We returned and complained, but it didn’t matter to the head of the sweatshop. She gave us a discount on the bus tickets, food, and lodging. After a month of work, I still had no money. My friend and I thought about leaving, but we didn’t know where we were. Three months passed and we hadn’t been able to save any money, until I heard on the radio that garment workers were needed. My friend had been fighting with his aunt and managed to get his return [to Bolivia], so I was left alone. I went to another shop that was more of the same and worse. There I worked making jeans for a place on Avellaneda Street.
Q: How did you arrive at La Alameda?
A: One Sunday we went to Avellaneda Park with the people from the shop. I passed by the corner and Rogelio was selling choripán [Argentine sausage sandwich]. Another member [of La Alameda], Sasha, gave me a leaflet and told me that there was a meeting, which a few lawyers were going to attend, about our rights. After that, I went to the head of the sweatshop to demand my rights [be adhered to]. We were locked/shut in the sweatshop without windows and full of grit. We ate chicken carcasses with rice everyday. The head of the sweatshop would scold us if we opened a window. But thanks to the information I received from La Alameda, I began to change my attitude. The head of the sweatshop infuriated me, threatening me and my family in Bolivia if I reported them. One day the head of the sweatshop dismantled the shop and left. I ended up at La Alameda and Sasha connected me with the OIM (International Organization for Migrants). I spent 2 months living in the La Alameda [headquarters] and working in [La Alameda’s] Bakery venture. I learned how to make cakes, empanadas, and bread.
Q: Why did you stay in Argentina?
A: In order to help those worse off than myself. Nobody talks to them about their rights, except in La Alameda, not on any radio [station] in the community do they tell the truth to garment workers.
Q: Why does the slave often come out in defense of the enslaver?
A: It’s the fear of the unfamiliarity of the place where you are, because you live locked up. Also, the ignorance of your rights and another big factor is the lack of an alternative. The State doesn’t help you. The Law can allow the ruling of the judge Sergio Torres, who confiscated machinery, to apply the law of assistance to the victims and make arrests in the big businesses, like the sweatshop owners, who are equally inhumane. Many argentines mistake a poorly dressed Bolivian guy for a garment worker, but often they are the foremen [and forewomen who run the sweatshops]. During Alacita [a Bolivian festival] it’s customary to make wishes and often times the [exploited] garment worker wishes to have his/her own shop in order to the same that was done to them.
The original interview can be found at: http://sur.elargentino.com/notas/jose-luis-ychuta-de-esclavo-delegado-sindical-en-una-textil
Should you like to know more of Jose Luis' story - his experiences as a modern day slave laborer, or his current work towards helping others in similar situations, comment on this post or on the wall of the Facebook Group "La Alameda News".
No comments:
Post a Comment