Tucking her dark hair behind a pair of plastic sunglasses, Ana, 36, of Veracruz, Mexico, sits at a card table in the back of Mountain View's Day Worker Center, waiting patiently for a job that might never come.
It's after 10 a.m. and about 30 workers are scattered around the dim church hall, a small television blaring the re-aired U.S.-Ghana World Cup game in a crowded corner. Folding chairs and flimsy tables litter the room. Shelves containing weathered board games and books cover the walls. Near the back door are a few potted plants and a bulletin board of family photographs. A volunteer wraps up the day's English lesson in the stiff heat.
"Around this time it gets obvious that there's probably no work for the day," said Rosa, a 48-year-old single mother, over a disgruntled roar from the soccer fans huddled around the television across the room.
With President Bush sending the National Guard to reinforce the southern border and Congress debating immigration reform, the American public is given the message that immigrant workers are enemies to be kept out. Quite contrarily, the lives and stories of these day workers revealed the newest ranks of pioneers, each struggling to create his or her own American Dream.
Many men and women at the center, who have asked that their last names not be used, are regulars. Some arrive long before the 7 a.m. opening to catch a job cleaning homes or doing yard work. Without English skills and, in many cases, without proper documentation, day workers have few job options apart from physical labor. Even bus boy positions require the applicant to speak basic English and give proof of legal status, making the job hunt a daily struggle.
Rosa echoes Cesar Chavez in her native Spanish: "Con papeles, si se puede" -- with legal papers, one can make it. However, several jobseekers say an undocumented worker who speaks English fares better in the job market than a documented worker who doesn't.
This makes the Day Worker Center at Mountain View's Calvary Church invaluable to the immigrant community. The center offers workers a friendly indoor alternative to gathering outside Home Depot. It serves about 90 people daily and doubles as a place for locals to find hard workers for temporary hire. Employers can walk in and register with the center's office and receive a helping hand for the day. Each worker is guaranteed a minimum of $10 an hour.
Contrary to popular belief, the workers at the center aren't all Latino. "We get all kinds of people from all kinds of places," said the center's director, Maria Marroquin, 47, nodding toward a Vietnamese man watching the soccer match with the predominantly Hispanic crowd. "Everyone has a story."
There are women like Ana, who hasn't seen her sons in three years, and men like Lorenzo, 37, who splits rent with six other people to make ends meet. Javier, 17, of Oaxaca, Mexico, has been going to the center for four months, rising with the sun to spend his days awaiting a job in the stuffy church room or hauling bricks if he's lucky. Few American teenagers would take hard work as appreciatively as Javier does, joking and smiling with friends at the center.
Work is scarce, with some people getting as few as eight hours in a week, although the pay and regularity of work is exponentially better here than on the other side. Whether from the Ukraine, Vietnam or Latin America, each immigrant comes with the hope of creating a better life.
These aren't people looking for charity and handouts. In fact, many are too proud to take advantage of programs such as the day laborer center and opt to go it alone. This can be a problem, as unregistered employers are not required to go through a screening process like employers who go through the center. Workers go into a job blindly with little assurance of payment and safety of the location.
"Sometimes they say they will pay $100 for a job and they give instead $30," says John, 41, an ex-software programmer from Vietnam, between sips of noodle soup. "You can't trust them."
Despite all the daily hardships, many workers still find it within themselves to reach out to others in the community. A woman at a nearby apartment building, recommended by Marroquin to the mothers at the center, babysits children after school while their parents are away.
The center is a hub of information. Often police and relatives will ask laborers whether they've seen missing people or runaways on the local job circuit. After a nearby residential fire in early June, the Mountain View chapter of the Red Cross went to the labor center to find families displaced by the fire and ask where others could be found. Marroquin recalls the hurricane relief fundraiser the center ran.
"It was incredible to see the people down on their own luck still pulling money from their own pockets," he said.
Countering the cultural stereotypes classifying immigrant laborers as a drain on social funding, the workers at the Mountain View Day Worker Center are people seeking basic survival through community. And if the day's job hunt turns out fruitless, the workers can find consolation in the authentic Mexican meal offered daily at noon. This complimentary meal can make all the difference in a workless week. As Ana puts it, "Though you may not find work everyday, you always have to eat."
Functioning as a middle ground between employers and day workers, the center is a magnet for the area's laborers in providing comfort, community and camaraderie. And to a lot of people, a good compadre is all anyone needs to keep going.