The story of modern slavery in America:
Immokalee’s population is 70 percent Latino. Per capita income is only $8,500 a year. One third of the families in this city of nearly 25,000 live below the poverty line. Over one third of the children drop out before graduating from high school.Immokalee is the tomato capital of the United States. Between December and May, as much as 90 percent of the fresh domestic tomatoes we eat come from south Florida, and Immokalee is home to one of the area’s largest communities of farmworkers. According to Douglas Molloy, the chief assistant U.S. attorney based in Fort Myers, Immokalee has another claim to fame: It is “ground zero for modern slavery.”
[…]
Lucas’s “room” turned out to be the back of a box truck in the junk-strewn yard, shared with two or three other workers. It lacked running water and a toilet, so occupants urinated and defecated in a corner. For that, Navarrete docked Lucas’s pay by $20 a week. According to court papers, he also charged Lucas for two meager meals a day: eggs, beans, rice, tortillas, and, occasionally, some sort of meat. Cold showers from a garden hose in the backyard were $5 each. Everything had a price. Lucas was soon $300 in debt. After a month of ten-hour workdays, he figured he should have paid that debt off.
But when Lucas—slightly built and standing less than five and a half feet tall—inquired about the balance, Navarrete threatened to beat him should he ever try to leave. Instead of providing an accounting, Navarrete took Lucas’s paychecks, cashed them, and randomly doled out pocket money, $20 some weeks, other weeks $50. Over the years, Navarrete and members of his extended family deprived Lucas of $55,000.
Taking a day off was not an option. If Lucas became ill or was too exhausted to work, he was kicked in the head, beaten, and locked in the back of the truck.
Calling this guy a hero seems like such an understatement:
Since 2000, approximately 900 veterans have found life-changing help at Foster’s facility, Stand Down House. Named for the military command that gives troops time to rest after arduous duty, the program provides homeless male vets food, shelter and a safe place to recover, as well as the tools to conquer their personal problems.“The idea is that they can relax now; we’ll take care of them,” Foster said.
Foster’s motivation to help these men is personal: He used to be one of them.
Born in rural Georgia, he joined the Army right after high school. During his six years in the military, he began drinking and experimenting with drugs. He was an alcoholic by the time he left the Army in 1980, and his drinking and drug use escalated as he struggled to adjust to civilian life.
He spent the next decade battling his addictions, and at his lowest, he slept in flophouses or on the streets.
“I was pretty much out of control,” Foster said. “I felt hopeless, helpless, ashamed and inadequate.”
While struggling to get clean, Foster had difficulty finding a program that accepted veterans and provided the recovery services he needed, he said. The experience inspired him to design a program specifically for his brothers-in-arms.
Start filming homelessness in America. It’s almost as important as filming celebrities.
Love this photo.
(via inothernews.)
