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Leone José Bicchieri recalls a day earlier this spring when he was chatting with a field worker outside a trailer home on Coleman Farms in Woodburn. As they were talking, another worker drove toward them on a tractor, spraying a cloud of mist onto a stand of filbert trees about 20 feet away. When the driver got out of his tractor to check his chemical levels and fuel, Bicchieri, an organizer for Piñeros y Campesinos Unidos del Noroeste, the local farmworkers union, asked what he was spraying. The worker, speaking in Spanish, said he didn't know. As Bicchieri well knew, this was a clear violation of worker safety rules, which require growers to ensure that their workers are educated in the safe handling of chemicals and follow the safety guidelines listed on product labels. Since the worker didn't know what chemical he was spraying, he couldn't know what precautions to take. You might think that Bicchieri, whose organization advocates for workers' rights, would have flown into action, filing a complaint with government regulators. Instead, he just shrugged. Such violations are not only routine, they are almost impossible to stop. Though there is a system in place to protect agriculture employees from dangerous chemicals, the system is not working. Regulations imposed on growers are restrictive, expensive and difficult to follow. Workers, largely poor Mexican laborers, don't dare complain for fear of losing their jobs. The standoff is complicated by huge cultural and language barriers between the two sides, who desperately need each other yet harbor long-standing resentments. The issue of chemical exposure, which has been simmering for years, may finally come to a head later this week when the National Farm Workers Ministry arrives in Portland. The NFWM is an ecumenical group of farm activists who try to mediate labor disputes. At least 18ministry board members from nine states have two days of activities planned, including a vigil at Coleman Farms Friday evening to draw attention to complaints of worker oppression, such as allegations of retaliation against workers who speak out on chemical exposure and other issues. In recent years Americans have become more concerned about pesticides and other agricultural chemicals. Just check out the ever-expanding organic produce section at Freddy's and Safeway. But for thousands of Oregonians, it is a matter not of eating traces of pesticides but of being showered with them. Chemicals sprayed at local farms fall into four categories: fungicides, herbicides, fertilizers and pesticides. These chemicals range from relatively benign weed killers such as Roundup to highly toxic fungicides such as vinclozolin. Short-term effects of chemical exposure range from mild skin irritations to respiratory distress. Long-term effects to humans are not known, but many of these chemicals cause cancer in laboratory animals. Most farmers depend heavily on these chemicals to protect their crops. According to a pesticide-use survey published by Oregon State University, more than a dozen different chemicals--adding up to more than 110,000 pounds of herbicides, pesticides and fungicides--are sprayed on Oregon hops in a single year. Although much of farming is now mechanized, several jobs, from planting strawberries to stringing hops, require old-fashioned manual labor, putting workers in direct contact with whatever is sprayed on the crops and ground. The number of farmworkers fluctuates seasonally. State officials estimate that during the height of the growing season, in June, there are 82,000 agricultural jobs in Oregon. The laws protecting workers from chemical exposure are strict. The state Occupational Safety and Health Administration, responsible for worker safety regulations, requires that growers have someone on-site who can communicate with workers and answer any questions that might arise about the safe handling and spraying of chemicals. Growers are also responsible for ensuring a safe work environment. If a worker knows and understands the safety rules but is not in compliance with them, the grower can receive a citation from OSHA. Bicchieri's group, better known as PCUN, has been the most vocal advocate for greater compliance. PCUN staff and workers interviewed by WW say violations occur routinely. Despite this, workers rarely file formal complaints. This year, for example, OSHA has received only five agriculture complaints in the central region, which encompasses a large growing area, including Woodburn. The state Department of Agriculture, which regulates the use of pesticides and herbicides, has received about 30 complaints concerning pesticide misuse this year. Dave Dillon, spokesman for the Oregon Farm Bureau, says he sympathizes with workers who have complaints and encourages them to report those complaints to the appropriate agency. "One of the frustrations I have is that there are already mechanisms in place to deal with these issues," says Dillon. "If I were in their [PCUN's] shoes, I would be in the mode of helping people work through the system." That system, however, often looks like a maze to farmworkers. Complaints about misuse of pesticides go to the DOA. Complaints about improper training go to OSHA. Complaints about retaliation go to the Bureau of Labor and Industries. In some cases, workers aren't even aware of the laws. "At first I had no idea how dangerous spraying was," says Efrain Peña, a former employee of Coleman Farms, "but later the union told us about the dangers, and I started to question." For many pesticides and fungicides, OSHA requires growers to alert workers--verbally or with signs--of recent field spraying and caution them to stay out for specified periods. Growers must also supply workers with equipment--such as gloves, protective clothing and respirators with clean filters--when chemical instructions call for such gear. Peña, speaking through an interpreter, told WW that last year Coleman Farms provided workers with protective suits to wear in mid-March, but after two weeks the supply ran out. He says workers continued to spray almost daily through August. He contends that workers had two pairs of gloves each for the whole season and that the filters on the masks they wore would go unchanged for more than a month. Tractors used in chemical application work often had broken windows, he said, exposing drivers to potentially toxic mists. Rather than file a complaint with the government, Peña took his concerns to his supervisors--a move he believes led to reprisals from his employer. Peña, who had been driving equipment and overseeing irrigation crews, says that after he complained he was isolated in a field and assigned to do the manual labor he had previously been supervising. Another former Coleman employee, Gabriel Solis, also claims that his union activity led to retribution. Last month he told The Oregonian that he lost his dairy job and rented trailer home at the Coleman Ranch in St. Paul after returning from a trip to Mexico. Coleman officials said he abandoned his job and dwelling. Solis said he had cleared the trip with supervisors. Coleman Farms declined to talk to WW, but Garnet Cook, OSHA senior agricultural health compliance officer, recognizes that workers fear reprisals. She says that at the end of any conference with a complainant, the worker gets instructions about anti-discrimination laws and what recourse is available if retaliation does take place. But OSHA doesn't deny that violations take place and go unpunished. "There are more people with legitimate concerns than we are getting," says Cook. Another reason for the small number of complaints is that state regulators rarely sanction growers. Although OSHA has the authority to levy penalties of up to six months in jail and $10,000 in fines, violators usually get off by coming up with a plan to correct the problem. Similarly, the Department of Agriculture also finds it difficult to enforce its regulations. The department monitors not only crop pesticide use but other, non-agricultural chemicals used by hospitals, exterminators and other businesses. According to Chris Kirby, administrator for the department's Pesticide Regulatory Unit, there are only five field investigators in the entire state. "Quite honestly, we'd be wasting our resources to investigate every complaint," Kirby says. Growers aren't thrilled with the current system either. Following OSHA rules is costly. Mike Swan, co-owner of Proscape, a small local landscaping company with 20 workers, estimates that it costs him $200 a month to comply with OSHA's required education and record-keeping policies. In addition, he has to provide equipment and a bilingual supervisor on every crew to assure that workers are complying with safety regulations. Given Swan's figures, the training expenses alone for Coleman Farms' estimated 200 workers could exceed $2,000 a month. PCUN staffers such as Erik Nicholson say that's a small price to pay to keep vulnerable workers safe. The organization says that until farmworkers have the security of union jobs, most of them will continue to be reluctant to seek enforcement of the federal safeguards aimed at protecting them. |
