A little old lady...

...at the bank today showed me first-hand what illegal immigration to the U.S. means for Guatemalan society.

I went to Banco Agromercantil, one of the smaller institutions, to get change for my 100 Quetzal bills (important lesson from Guatemala: having 100Q bills is equivalent to having no money at all. Hardly anyone can change them, and the few places that can are so expensive you'll end up spending most of the bill there anyway). The bank was nice and modern, and could've been any bank in the U.S. South aside from the numerous armed guards who are an ubiquitous installation at every bank and distribution center in Guate. I sat down at the desks in the entryway and waited for a nice lady to tell me I was in the wrong place to get change. Then I proceeded around the corner, where I found a familiar line-and-cashier sort of arrangement like we're used to in the States. There were only a few people ahead of me (unlike the more popular BanRural, where there are always at least 2,500,000 people waiting in line) so I slipped into line and re-counted my 100Q bills for the twentieth time.

As I waited my turn, I noticed this little old lady in traditional Maya dress a couple of turns ahead who tottered up to the cashier (her face barely reached the counter) and handed him a slip of paper that apparently served as a notice to pick up a money transfer from the U.S. The cashier retired to the back room for a moment and came back with a healthy stack of 100Q bills. He told the little old lady that she had received something like 2500 Quetzales (the equivalent of about 333 US Dollars) and she smiled and nodded slowly before tottering off on her little cane.

Now, this little old lady could work 60 hours a week on a farm, harvesting corn and beans to survive. She could wash clothes for wealthier Ladinos three days a week to get by. She may be the only adult in a household of grandchildren whose parents have immigrated or were "disappeared" during la Violencia. But thanks to some relative, a child or grandchild or cousin who immigrated, probably illegally, to the U.S., she is able to continue supporting herself and god knows how many of her relatives. Anyone can tell from a glance at her worn clothing that she isn't wealthy, but thank god she isn't starving either.


I don't have to think hard to imagine what life would be like for this lady without her remittances from the States. I've seen it. I've seen the exhausted, defeated look of people half her age, resting on their weary knees in the doorways of abandoned buildings in the rural pueblos around Xela. I'm aware of how miserable the salaries are for hard-working farmers and service personnel here in Xela, much less in the poorer remote areas that aren't bolstered by us relatively wealthy gringo tourists. Like any developing country or region, Guatemala has many hopeful people who simply lack opportunities to advance. There are brilliant minds that go without education for want of a few dollars each month to afford uniforms and school supplies.

In many societies around the world that most of us would consider without hesitation to be "primitive," the elderly are cared for by their neighbors as a matter of course. Even if a person has no children to support them, the society contributes something, enabling the person to live their final years in dignity. What do we do for our own grandparents and parents in their elder years? What do we provide for our own children, so they may grow and prosper?

When it's time to decide what to do about the "immigration problem," I hope politicians and citizens alike take into account the global repercussions of their actions. We're not just talking about people who risk their lives and sacrifice their family ties to come and work their asses off in the U.S. doing jobs that no one else would accept, for less pay than we can humanely justify. We're also talking about little old ladies in Guatemala, and children in Haiti whose education depends on a monthly stipend from cousins and siblings cleaning motel rooms in Florida and New York. We're talking about whole families who squeak by each month on less money than we spend in a weekend vacation trip, and who miraculously manage to save a little bit so that their children's dreams may someday be realized. But it's a fragile, frail thing, and building walls along our borders will do absolutely nothing to stave off the hunger that drives these people to look for something more, something fulfilling and hopeful.

As long as the U.S. has a disproportionate share of the world's wealth, people will flock to
seek their fortunes therein. And rightly so. It's time to spread the wealth. Every human being has a right to live with dignity, regardless of which parcel of dirt we happen to occupy upon being born. We're all alike in the eyes of God. We're all equally human and equally valuable, however different we may be.

"All eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth, that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately, by the grace of God." -- Thomas Jefferson