Mind Scraps: No Treating ME Like a Roach

Even my body wanted to reject the psychological injustice…

Knowing that I needed to pick up some work, Ele informed me early this morning that one of her friends needed a some help at a factory here in Chihuahua, MX… just for a couple days.

The task was mind-numbingly easy: stick labels on bottles of lotion. I’ve heard stories of what work conditions are like at fábricas here in Mexico. They can be quite horrible. But this was nothing more than just showing up and repetitively slapping labels on jars. No pressure about the rate of which you complete the task. Free to use the bathroom anytime you want. Just a few people… Nothing like the horrid conditions of a REAL fábrica.

This is not an opportunity to earn any real cash, but I said ‘yes’ thinking it would be a good experience to gain more understanding about this world, this way of life, so many people rely upon to survive. Blech. It’s not surviving. It’s amounting nothing more than a zombie.

When I arrived I was told we would earn 150 to 200 PESOS for about 8 hours of work. At 12 pesos per dollar that comes out to $1.56 to $2.00 of earnings per hour. At this wage, even in Mexico, you can’t afford to pay the rent for a very basic apartment. I looked at my surroundings: a bare, industrial factory. No art. No beauty. Just uninspired cement and metal. I looked at the jars, the labels. ‘They seriously expect people to sit here for hours, doing nothing more than slapping stickers on a jar, for $2 an hour or less?’ I wondered.

My trademark ¡Que Rico! smile immediately vanished. In seconds the depression started creeping over me… In the meantime, my friend cheerfully suggested we put on some music. I swallowed. ‘No way.’ I was thinking. ‘But I said I would do this. I gave my word and I’m someone who does what she says.’ The battle in my head began. What do I value more? My time; myself? Or my word?

My body, however, didn’t have any doubts as to what was more valuable.

I started slapping the labels on the jars and the sensation to vomit began to wash over me, first a small urge but one that grew and grew.

“You seem so serious right now,” Ele worriedly remarked.

I looked back, the dread showing in my eyes. “Honestly, I feel like I’m going to vomit,” I responded.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m realizing things, gaining new understanding,” I said. “Serious things. But it’s good. It’s good that I’m experiencing this.”

The injustice was welling up inside me. The depression rapidly consuming me. But, I urged myself to, at least for a few moments, observe it all. Experience it. Take it in. I stepped out of myself and watched as my thoughts raged. ‘How can people seriously think its okay to pay someone so little for their time??!! How can I allow someone to say that my time is worth no more than $2.00 an hour??!! I’m a photographer, I have talent. What the bleep am I doing here wasting hours, about to do nothing more than mindlessly slapping stickers on jars??!!! No wonder people are depressed! No wonder people are angry! No wonder people see nothing but dread in the world! Permitting yourself to work day in and day out for scraps, scraps that don’t even put a roof over your head – how can you not loathe yourself for not valuing yourself more. How can you not loathe others for not valuing you more. You are a human being. A bleeping human being not a roach!’

My hands and arms began to tremble. Not more than ten minutes had past. More thoughts:

‘I just wrote a blog about being a warrior. This is NOT the work of a warrior.’ I scolded myself. The sensation to vomit became almost unbearable. I began to feel like I was choking on the air. ‘Long enough.’ I thought. And immediately a part of me was profoundly joyous. No I was not got to permit this, my psychological self, nor my physical self. I felt very proud. Everything that I am, everything that I stand for, rejected this injustice so much, even to the point of physical ill.

I expressed everything to Ele. My sentiments and my physical sensations. Her response was full of understanding, “I admire you. You’re right. You have no business being here. I’m doing this as a favor for my friend. But, everything you feel is absolutely right.”

She informed her friend and we left. Immediately, I began feeling relief…

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This entry was posted on Thursday, April 22nd, 2010 at 3:01 pm. It is filed under alive, Latin America, Mexico, Travel, World Politics. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.