La Labor: The Catalyst to my epiphany

A strawberry field in California’s Salinas Valley. Credit...Carlos Chavarría for The New York Times

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Out of the millions upon millions of moments we abide through each day, the ones who emerge from the blur of life, although not invariably, are the ones that shake our very core. They are the moments when the fine hairs on the body stand up; the heart skips a beat, and the body receives an extra dose of electrical impulses that travel the entirety of the body in the span of a few seconds. This is all due to the sudden realization that life is indeed short and frail, and that success does not sneak up and surprise those who live life free of perceptual risk. Success is the deceptively hidden oasis in the Sahara desert; it is for those who dare to venture into a desert brimming with venomous snakes, scorpions and other variety of lethal warriors. Warriors who may see the glittering waves of water right before them, only to realize that it was just another mirage. The risk of failure is one thing, but the constant failure of being one step from sweet success only to find a patch of dry sand can turn back even the most optimistic of us.

I had just finished my freshman year of high school. I had worked somewhat hard in school, but I was exhausted and ready to enjoy my summer. My mother had found out through one of my uncles that the labor season was beginning again and that they needed workers. My mother had the brilliant idea that I should learn what it means to earn my own wage for the things I wanted. I was not very excited about it because the work consisted of picking up large rocks from the fields from morning to afternoon under intense heat. Nevertheless, the idea of getting more than the usual compelled me to try it out.

It would be a major understatement if I said I was more than a little naive about the what this job looked like. My strongest memory is of my self climbing inside of the van to eat my sandwich in peace. We had worked all morning, and I was exhausted. I was drenched in sweat and covered in dirt (as was everyone else). I rinsed my hands as best I could, and was ready to dive into the most delicious sandwich I'd ever had. I accidentally glanced at the roof of the van as my teeth began to sink into the bread, and the sight was so repulsive that I gaged.

Never in my life had I see so many flies! I am talking about a massive black mass of flies chilling on the roof of this van.

Surprisingly, I came back. During a conversation between one of the older, more skilled workers, I was startled to hear the following statement, “... I started to work here since I was about your age. It’s all I’ve ever known. My parents were laborers and so were their parents. From a very young age, I was tasked to bring in a salary, take care of my siblings, and the house. So I never went to school, but you young girl, take the advice of an old lady like me if you wish, and stay in school. That’s where your future lies. You choose it. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

Though I had been conveyed with the same advice many times in my life, this was the most memorable instance of someone urging me to keep going. To work and go after my dreams. Perhaps it was the way it felt like we were dispensable and replaceable. Perhaps it was the less than glamorous way we worked. Perhaps it was knowing that most lacked basic education, and that it was one of the biggest reasons they were here instead of somewhere more desirable.

I could see it in their tired and worn out eyes, their sun tanned bodies, their prematurely wrinkled visages, and calloused hands. I could see the years of hard labor, imposed ignorance and the contentment in the simple lives that proceeded. Within their eyes, I could see the broken glass of their once brightly lit orbs. They were people whose imposition of work and preclusion of a good education never gave them the opportunity to achieve self actualization; the last step of social and phycological maturity.

It dawned on me in that moment and perhaps for the rest of my life, that I couldn't let the opportunity for education slip through my fingers. I was a couple of miles from that oasis. I could practically see the way the water moved without fear of being deceived by a mirage.

I became acutely aware of the impact that my education had on my life. I recall the moment when Maria, the skillful worker, recounted her struggles throughout life’s journey. That was the exact moment that the fine hairs on my body stood up; my heart skipped a beat, and a chill raced up my spine. I realized exactly how easy it would be to become another weather worn person.

So, thank you Maria. For your words continue to motivate me through this journey.

Per Aspera Ad Astra