Rancheros of the South Shore

>> Latino labourers fill the employment gap on Quebec farms

By PETER McQUEEN

As the sun sets over fertile farmland, groups of Mexican labourers--like their fathers and grandfathers before them--return from backbreaking work in the fields to their camps for burritos and rice. It's a picturesque scene from the south: the South Shore, that is. Cross the Mercier Bridge and drive past Kahnawake and you'll see dozens of migrant Latino workers harvesting Quebec's crops. You'll find them at the Provigo in St-Rémi on Thursday night stocking up on tortillas and beans, or lounging in the village squares in front of the church on their Sunday afternoons off.

Jorge, a muscular 34 year old from Puebla, 100 miles from Mexico City, has hands like leather from grasping at lettuce and cucumbers all day, a task that Quebecers are less and less interested in doing. He makes $7 an hour seeding, weeding and picking vegetables for the Soleil agrofarm near St-Clothilde. He and his 60 compadres, all Mexicans, live on the farm in three big lodge houses, seven to a bathroom. They work 50 to 80 hours a week depending on the weather.

Jorge dutifully sends money to his family in Mexico every month. Over the course of his four-month visa he will make about $7,000, half of which he will save after airfare and living expenses. It is his fourth summer in Quebec, and each year he has seen more of his fellow citizens come north, as Quebec farmers discover this plentiful source of cheap, hardworking labour.

International labour pool

Farmers are supposed to make "all possible efforts" to hire Canadians before dipping into the international labour pool, according to François Morin of the Union des producteurs agricoles. Provincial bureaucrats work hard to fill the need with locals. "It's not a free-for-all, it's all very structured and the number of foreign workers we call on is pretty stable," he says. "When the economy is cold we accept around 800 foreign workers and when unemployment is down, as it is now, it goes up to 1,000."

The migrants, who are mostly Mexican, total only one per cent of Quebec's farm-hands, compared to the eight per cent share they take in Ontario's farm force. The fact that Ontario's economy has been booming for far longer also plays a role in their higher reliance on the international connection, as increased employment opportunities have led many Ontarians to leave the land for work in the less cyclical manufacturing sector. Morin finds it understandable, adding that "farm work tends to be physically challenging. It's certainly not for everybody."

As well, Quebec's 45,000 farms contain a higher proportion of dairy operations, which require less human labour than those involving a harvest, as is the case on a large number of Ontario's 100,000 farms.

But not all ethnic-looking farmers are migrant workers. "Many landed immigrants and new citizens have taken to working on farms," says Morin. "The perception of that type of work is different in the countries they come from--farming is considered a pretty typical job in those places."

The Canadian dream

Jorge explains that the pay in Canada is lower than in California, where migrant farmhands can earn $8 (U.S.) an hour, and skilled carpenters and roofers $11 (U.S.) an hour. But the American dream is fraught with immigration and police hassles, he says. Besides, the pay here is still three times higher than what he earns working construction in Mexico in the winter.

Villagers, mostly francophones with a smattering of anglos, are now used to seeing the Latinos ride around on their rickety, hand-me-down 10-speeds. Guy, a teenager with a punk haircut getting into his car in front of the dépanneur, states that he never talks to the Mexicans because he can't speak Spanish and they don't speak French or English. Guy picked vegetables for a while at local farms, but found it "too hard," now preferring to suit up for McDonald's in St-Jean.

Working seven days a week, Jorge says the Mexicans never come into Montreal and therefore have no contact with its 100,000-strong Latino community. Jorge, who laments that missing his wife and two kids is the toughest part of the four-month job, at least has the workers' end-of-the-summer mariachi 'n' tequila fiesta at a local grubhall to look forward to. But with 60 men and no women, says Jorge, it ain't much of a party.