Immigration Raid and Indymedia
author: troublemaker
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Shocked at the lack of news here!
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It's pretty amazing how little news there is here about yesterday's raid. It is probably the most important story in Portland for some time, certainly the most important story for the Latino community. Of the info that is up here, some of it is wrong. It's too bad that people have to look to the corporate media for info on this tragic assault on Portland immigrants.
The raid has been denounced by immigrant rights activists, the mayor, the archbishop, and other local officials.
I suggest that Indymedia activists and volunteers investigate the apparent disconnect between the Latino community, immigrant rights activists, and the important resource that is Portland Indymedia.
Fairly decent story on the impact of yesterday's raid from the Oregonian:
In raid's wake: panic, desperation and confusion
Aftermath - Families are separated and left with an uncertain future in an unknown legal system
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
ESMERALDA BERMUDEZ
The Oregonian
Nicolas Siquina's stomach sank in disbelief. His wife, a new worker at Fresh Del Monte Produce Inc., is in the country illegally.
"I feel desperate," Siquina said in Spanish, staring dazedly at idling buses loaded with suspected illegal immigrants outside the produce plant. "She's all I've got. She's my company."
Across the Portland area, scenes of desperation played out. Sons, daughters, husbands, wives, friends -- all were among 167 illegal immigrants picked up Tuesday by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents at the North Portland food-processing plant.
Siquina, a 45-year-old window assembler, had little knowledge of what happened to his wife just after she arrived at work. And he knows even less about the deportation maze she and the others arrested Tuesday will find themselves in during what is likely the end of their stay in the United States.
Deportation is a price many feared they could pay for breaking the law. Those fears have grown amid today's heated political climate and renewed efforts to target illegal immigrants at work sites. But judging by relatives' frantic faces and confusion, few, if any, prepared.
Now those detainees, who are not entitled to representation by a lawyer, could choose to fight deportation. And detainees who have spent the least time in the country and created the fewest local ties will be the ones who have the slightest chance of staying.
Siquina hopes his Guatemalan wife, Judith Sebastiana, will be released. Two months ago, Siquina, a permanent resident, filed documents to begin the process to win her legal status.
As immigration agents showed up at Fresh Del Monte, undocumented workers made desperate cell phone calls to notify family members. One woman was said to have slipped from federal agents by hiding in a restroom.
As the raid stretched into afternoon, relatives and friends streamed to a private field next to the industrial plant to get a closer look. Ultimately, a line of buses with blacked-out windows rumbled away, carrying passengers who would eventually end up at the 1,000-bed Northwest Detention Center.
At the Tacoma facility, from where more than 100 detainees were recently transferred to Alabama, those picked up Tuesday will live in a jail-like setting. Their futures will be decided by judges, whom they will most often face on closed-circuit television.
If family or friends who are legally in the United States have the money, detainees will be able to hire lawyers to represent them and possibly slow the return to their native countries. Some could be released on bond. For those without any local resources, the trip back could be quicker.
At the site of Tuesday's detentions, representatives of Portland social service groups passed out phone numbers. Fear spread that immigration officials would show up to search workers' homes, although immigration officials said that would not happen.
Genevieve Roudane with Voz, an immigrant rights group, gathered evidence for immigration lawyers. She wasn't sure how the group would find the families of some of the workers.
"We're here to show our support and send a message to these agents that they are being watched, and they can't get away with anything," Roudane said.
Blanca Castillo, a native of Michoacan, Mexico, was detained at the Fresh Del Monte plant. She phoned a cousin to pick up her 10- and 13-year-old daughters from Clarendon Elementary School, where several of the Fresh Del Monte workers' children attend. In her 40s, Castillo moved to Oregon from North Carolina two years ago after being in the country nearly a decade.
"I don't know if she was able to call the school," said Esmeralda Garcia, a friend who lingered at the plant hoping to get Castillo's permission to pick up the girls at school.
"I have no idea what we're going to do," she said.
Leaning against a chain-link fence, Dennise Zavala-Diaz and her mother, Gloria Zavala, hugged and waited in tears for news of Gloria's 55-year-old sister, Juana Diaz.
"She came here to work," Dennise Zavala said of Juana Diaz. "She didn't come to cause trouble or hurt anybody. These are hardworking people. My aunt couldn't hurt a fly."
Dennise Zavala said her family planned to hire an attorney to help Juana, who crossed the border six months ago and was working long days making $7.80 an hour at the plant.
A few miles away from the raid at Villa de Clara Vista Apartments, a predominantly Latino neighborhood in Northeast Portland where several affected families live, people were afraid. Playgrounds were empty during the warm afternoon hours.
"Everything is closed shut," said Olga Escalera, a neighbor who was baby-sitting the children of a woman who was detained. "They are not opening the door to anyone. The drapes are down on the windows, the windows are shut. They are not answering their phones . . . there's so much panic. So much fear."
Antonio Miguel Gomez's brother-in-law tried to flee Fresh Del Monte but was caught.
Driving into the plant's parking lot at about 11 a.m., Gomez said the 20-year-old man sat in the passenger's seat headed to what seemed like a typical work day. When the driver of the station wagon saw the blue-clad immigration officials, he slammed on the brakes, abandoned the car and took off on foot. The young man tried to run, too, but immigration officials grabbed him.
Gomez, who paid $1,500 for the young man's trip to Oregon, said,"Luck played against him."
Gosia Wozniacka, Melissa Navas and Rachel Hatzipanagos of The Oregonian staff contributed to this report. Esmeralda Bermudez: 503-221-4388; ebermudez@news.oregonian.com
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