working away (trabajando todavía)
stories from Maine
I walk up two flights of wooden steps, grateful for the light shining above me from above the apartment door I’m headed to. Knocking on the door, I’m greeted by a man in a checkered button-up, who seems at once apprehensive and relaxed.
Through a Hispanic Outreach Coordinator for a local church, I’ve been put in touch with him to get a sense of one of the many Hispanic New Mainer lived experiences with loneliness in older adulthood.
I introduce myself as the person here to meet him. “Sí (yes), he says, “este es todavía un buen momento para hablar” (this is still a good time to talk).
Though I thought I would meet just him, he asks if his roommate might join us as well. Of course, I’d be thrilled to talk with him.
He knocks on a bedroom door, from which a man in tall socks, sandals, a big over-shirt steps out and I introduce myself.
We settle inside at a table to the side of the kitchen, on top of it some fruit and vegetables arranged in a bowl. I later learn the two eat dinner together here each night.
We go over the point of this interview, and the anonymity of their responses and photos, which is particularly important for these interviewees.
We then settle into conversation.
Photo taken by Grace Ellrodt with subjects’ consent.
NOTE: I spoke with both interviewees in Spanish, the language they were most comfortable speaking in. Click on the audio clip to hear their responses in Spanish. English translations in italics appear with each audio clip. I’ve called the first person who speaks A and second B to distinguish their responses.
One 74 years old and the other 77, they tell me the region in Mexico they are from, and how long they have been here.
A: I am from Mexico, from the state of Guanojuato. I came here at the invite of another person. Doing this work, and being here, we’re talking a long time- 20 years.
B: Similarly, it’s been 10 years since I came. I am also Mexican, from Guanojuato.
Both work on farms in the area, and have done so since their arrival in the U.S. One of the men on how his work is seen by those who do not do it day in and day out, versus in his view:
The work is seen as dirty. Because we work with the chickens. It’s cleaning. At first, there was a bad smell… but with time, one gets used to it. Now, it seems normal. But for new people, no.
Both came here without family. A decade, or two, later, so it remains. Hear their motivations to do so:
No, I live alone [without family]. The whole family stayed Mexico. Yes, yes… it’s… Here we’ve got weather with snow— good winters and tough winters. Well, that’s it. Normally we go to Mexico to see family. We come and go. We provide. It’s the reason we’re here.
Though you will see the supportive role the roommates play for one another, the separation from family living in their home country is a root of loneliness. One man spoke on this as soon as we began to talk.
Loneliness? Well, yes, it is a bit sad. Loneliness on account of being separated from [our] families. More in times like the end of the year, when one would like to be with family… [like] Christmas. Because of matters like work, sometimes one can’t go there. But, okay. We are already accustomed to that. But yes, yes, loneliness is a bit strong. When one cannot overcome it.
Photo taken by Grace Ellrodt with subject’s consent.
Because their work is so physically demanding and a day off is too far and between, the two have established a routine without the kinds of social supports many other older adults documented in this project invest themselves in.
We spoke at night because it is their only time off.
But notice, importantly, that they have each other, as roommates, in this routine, to have a cerveza/ beer with at the end of the day.
A: We [have] here [the apartment]. Nothing more… It’s the same as what we’re doing right now. We arrive home, we cook what we’re going to cook, to eat tomorrow, bring to work. We watch television, we drink a beer to relax. It’s the same every single day.
B: It’s the routine.
A: Yes, the routine. That’s how we’ve done it, given we don’t have family here. And others, those who have family, it’s different. Some who don’t have family, sometimes they come here to not be alone, to have a beer. It’s life.”
Because of financial insecurity and hardship which comes from not only full-time work in manual labor, but also efforts to support family in Guanojuato, there’s no car parked outside. Both men have the minimum resources they need to just move through their day, literally.
Two bicycles lean against the wall. Most days, it’s as simple as that. Outreach out local transportation would, this reflection shows, have to be very targeted to their daily needs.
Yes, there are supports, but we don’t consider them, at best. Or, here in this case [we have] the bicycles, a car [borrowed], are our supports. Or sometimes the city bus.
Plot twist: I was connected to these two people through their church. But, hear why church, though a place to connect with other Hispanic New Mainers and others, has a massive barrier to attendance: full-time work leaving only evenings free, with few and inconsistent days off.
Note also that this means the two roommates do not necessarily or even often get to have a day off together, never mind to spend meeting those in Lewiston-Auburn.
A: We go [to church] very little. We don’t have much time. We can’t because we work for so long. We work full time, so there isn’t much time left… It’s that in this work, this is specifically manual labor, you don’t get a certain day off—it may be Sunday, it be any other day.
B: My day off might fall on Monday, his on Tuesday. [But] it’s good, it’s very good. To get to know other people.
I ask if either of them ever talk about loneliness with their families back home. The reply begs the question: Can loneliness be shared with those who don’t feel it, too?
A: When talking to family, yes, I talk about loneliness. How it is to be here. For example, here in winter, with the time change. [At like 4]. Yes. I get home from work and it’s already dark. So, there, Mexicans, they’ve already left to shop, and here it’s dark.
B: It’s not mutual. Because it’s only talked about. It’s not felt [by them]. It’s felt here [gestures to his heart.]
Given loneliness must be largely kept to themselves, even if importantly shared between them, we talk about whether they would ever talk to their doctors about getting mental health support.
Their answers show how need for a primary care referral, paired with limited time (on both patient and provider ends), makes this a less likely support. Nevertheless, it’s there, and they know it.
A: Well, it wouldn’t be offered. We always go for a check-up, because of sickness… Here we have a family doctor. When we get an ache/pain, we can call.
B: Many times it’s once a year. It’s not just routine, rather that as long as it’s offered, you go.
A: Someone would have to go first to the family doctor to get a referral, to be passed to the other person [to a therapist, etc.] No, but personally, it hasn’t come up for me to talk about loneliness with a doctor. One of the things is that… Because we have a short visit, and we leave the appointment and do what we’re going to do.
B: It’s always limited.
A: For this reason, there’s no time to talk like that [about loneliness], to be honest. But yes, I can go in that case.
So what really drives loneliness? I ask generally, but I think it’s worthy to note that the answer shared is true of the speaker’s own experience: poverty.
The causes… I think many times it’s poverty. Necessity brought us here… It is one of the main causes we have. It’s better for the family to go forward.
And when it comes to if or how aging relates to loneliness, it’s all about the combination of struggle.
A: I believe it’s one of the challenges everyone arrives at eventually. It comes and it goes. It’s a thing of… not of routine, but of time… it’s a thing of life.
B: Well, from the start [loneliness] is stronger, because with passing years… for an older person loneliness comes on top of other health problems...
A: It’s a [greater] burden.
Photo taken by Grace Ellrodt with subject’s consent.
Though retirement is off the table for now, loneliness antidotes are not. Co-workers at the farm, many of whom are also Hispanic New Mainers from various countries, have plenty to share.
In our work, we have various people from various Latin American countries. Different foods, different customs. But here… we go from here. Going forward, going forward [literally, walking], all the same.