Our unknown neighbors
It was only 11 in the morning, but the sun was already scorching. I wanted to wipe the sweat off my face and swat the bugs off of me, but my hands were sticky from touching the tobacco leaves. I knew the nicotine would make me itchy and nauseated if I touched my face. We were only halfway through one row of tobacco plants, and the field seemed to stretch forever. I struck up a conversation in Spanish with my fellow workers, who seemed in remarkably good spirits considering they would be working until seven that night. I would return from the field to my air-conditioned apartment, but the other eight workers would return to a small, hot trailer on their grower’s property. It was my first day off this summer during my internship with Student Action with Farmworkers and I decided to work in the fields alongside some farmworkers I had met to get a better idea of what their life is like.