 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Immigration
The following article originally appeared in Salt of the Earth. It is posted here for private use only. It may not be reprinted in whole or in part without the permission of Salt of the Earth magazine.
Teresa Rios
Jean Powell interviews Teresa Rios
SIX YEARS AGO, WHEN Teresa Rios started a new job as health promoter in the migrant camps of Oregon's Hood River valley orchards, she and her co-workers found more than physical health needs. They found lonely and depressed women more prone to child abuse, bright children failing in local public schools, and a real hunger in people for a reaffirmation of their culture.
So, in addition to checking the children for head lice and encouraging basic sanitation, Rios has intervened in local schools demanding Hispanic children be treated fairly, organized groups and events for high-schoolers, formed cooking classes for women that are spiced with education and counseling, and initiated support groups for men who batter women and children.
When she started her work as a health promoter, Rios recalls, "I had to learn that I was a strong and valuable person before I could go out and make others strong.... God gave me the opportunity to learn and change. As I changed, I helped other families grow."
THE HARDEST DAY IN MY LIFE was when I moved to Oregon. I left my family and traditions in Morelos, Mexico and traveled to a strange land, where people spoke a language I did not know. But my husband, Ramon, was there, in Hood River. And it was time for me and our three children to join him and live as a family.
Ramon had worked the fields in Oregon, California, and Texas for years. He had always returned home when he could. But he had finally settled in this small agricultural town along the Columbia River. And he sent for us.
That was ten years ago. Our daughter, Sareni, was just 8 years old; our boy, Angel, had turned 4; and our baby son, Jairo, was 6 months.
When I got here, I first went to work planting trees. Then I took a job sewing clothes at a factory. After that I watched children in a day-care center, first working with infants and eventually teaching preschoolers.
IN 1990 I TOOK A JOB THAT would change me forever. Through a new program run by the local low-income clinic, I became a health promoter for the Hispanic community. The idea was for Hispanics to teach other Hispanics how to be healthy.
After the initial training, we went out to the Hispanic families in the orchards and fields. We held health screenings—checking people's weight, height, and blood pressure. We taught kids how to brush their teeth and encouraged parents to bring sick children to the clinic. Being Hispanic ourselves, we were able to do a better job than if Anglos had gone into the migrant camps.
We understood our people, our traditions. Maybe that is why we realized we had to do more than just take care of the physical health of our community. In our visits we saw signs of domestic abuse. We saw the tensions of Spanish-speaking families trying to survive in a different language and culture.
At the beginning, the health-promoter program was called "El Nino Sano" (the healthy child). But we soon understood that we needed to treat more than the physical needs of children. So we renamed the program "La Familia Sana" (the healthy family), and now our focus is the mental health of the whole family.
Our goal is to reduce and prevent violence in our community. Toward that end we have built different support groups for the children, women, and men.
FIRST, WE WORK WITH KIDS in the schools. We provide educational and social events so they aren't out in the streets finding trouble. We found the best way to do this is to spend time with the kids. We offer counseling at the high school at certain hours every week. We've organized a lunch group and meet with students informally to talk about whatever is on their minds.
Most of the students we see are young women. We talk about domestic violence, alcoholism, and drug abuse. We encourage them to go to college, pursue careers, and break down cultural expectations. It is a different world in the United States, and we want them to make the most of it; we want them to learn how to make it on their own. Too many young women take the first job they find out of high school or get married right away—and both situations often force them into poverty.
Our time in the high school is paying off. We encouraged a number of girls to attend a government school for student leaders that was held in the state's capitol. Three of our girls went and loved it!
It is common for Hispanics to pull our children out of public school if we don't like what is happening. That happened to two high-school girls. They were taking drugs, and their parents thought it was best to take them away from their friends and school. We worked with the families for nearly five months, finding help for the girls and slowly building trust between the parents, girls, and the teachers. I was very happy we were successful, because now the girls have a future. And that means, our people have a future. We are in the Schools to help our kids build a better future for all of us.
OUR SECOND SUPPORT GROUP IS THE "cooking class" we have for women. We may fix meals when we all get together, but we use the informal gathering to educate women about domestic violence, their rights, and their bodies.
Sometimes it takes a lot of convincing to get a woman to start coming to the class. One woman did not want to come at all. She had diabetes but did not want to do anything about it. She was very depressed. I would go to her house every time we had a class and ask her if she wanted to come. She would always say no. But I kept stopping by. Finally she gave in.
Now she comes to the class all the time. She learned to fix food that is good for her diabetes, and she exercises and is doing very well.
Finally, we work with the court system to organize groups for our men who batter women and children. In those sessions they learn how to control their anger. It helps some of the men, but others are very angry at us. They say we are destroying the family because we are giving power to the women and children. But we believe we are making the family stronger.
I DO WHAT I DO BECAUSE I want to make my community healthy for my three kids. I am paid to work 40 hours a week. But I see so much need that many weeks I end up working twice as many hours. If my three children and my husband did not support me, I could not do so much.
My faith in God also keeps me going. Jesus Christ is my biggest hero. We need to learn from his example. We—everybody—have to help and serve other people.
I also learned from the strong women in the Bible, like Esther, that service is important. In the Old Testament, Esther finds the courage to beg the king to save the lives of her people, even though she put her own life in danger. I am strong now like those women. I want my daughter and other women in my community to be strong, too.
Some of my strength comes from living in this country. My family in Mexico is very traditional. My family believes women have to stay at home to take care of the children. And sometimes women and children were abused to keep the family in line.
WHEN I CAME TO HOOD RIVER and started working for El Nino Sano, I learned how to raise my children differently. One of my responsibilities is to teach the community that there are other ways to deal with children; we do not need to hit or be violent. But I had to learn it myself first before I could teach it.
I also had to learn that I was a strong and valuable person before I could go out and make others strong. That learning started when I began working at El Nino Sano. That program has been one of the most important things in my life. God gave me the opportunity to learn and change.
As I changed, I helped other families grow. In my home visits I saw how violence affects everyone. I would share what worked with my family, how I learned to communicate with my kids. The most important idea I shared with people, though, was how difficult it is for parents to change.
As parents, we think the problem is our kids or the schools or the system, but we never want to admit that we are the problem. It is very difficult to admit. I am a parent, and I know how difficult it is to understand our kids. But we can change. I have seen it in my family.
Sometimes it is hard for me to believe who I am just nine years after coming to Oregon. When I first came to Hood River, I was so afraid of my new home because I did not speak the language. My husband would take me to the store and make me go in and buy milk so I would learn a little English.
I would sit in the car crying and saying, "No, I don't want to go in."
Then he would say, "Yes, you have to learn how to buy milk for your kids." He took my hand and said, "You have to go with me, and you have to ask for the milk."
That was very hard for me, but that's how I learned. He was trying to pull me into the society.
NOW, I SPEAK ENGLISH AND I WRITE letters in English. It takes me two or three hours, but I do it. Ramon is impressed with me. He says, "I don't believe you—you, the woman who was crying in the store and didn't want to ask for milk!"
Now I teach others to believe in themselves. I am not sure what my future holds, but I do know I will be in whatever place God needs me to be. I will be there.—END
© 1997 by Claretian Publications