ICE CRACKDOWN DRIVES LOCAL COTTAGE INDUSTRIES UNDERGROUND

By Juan Montoya

She makes tamales in the dark hours of the morning.

Before daybreak, Doña Lali (not her real name) has smeared the masa on 120 steamed corn husks, filled them with either chicken or pork, and stacked the 10 dozen tamales to separate the order from those of her other clients.

By the time the sun breaks through the darkness in the morning, the smell of cooked tamales permeates her rented home in the heart of downtown Brownsville.

Her clients remain secret, and they, in turn, pass the availability of the succulent antojitos by word of mouth to private fiends. 

The holidays have been good to Doña Lali, with her tamales (pork and chicken are her customers' favorites, some cooked with corn husks, other with banana leaves) remaining a favorite delicacy among local clients. 

A few  blocks down, in a different part of town, Doña Lily (also not her real name), is putting the finishing touches on a Christmas wreath she created working at home. 

Another 10 or so wreaths ordered by her clients are lined up on top of furniture around the room. Her children, now grown, purchased the materials for her in local craft stores because she doesn't want to take a chance wandering into the city.

With Valentine's Day coming, she already has a list of orders for "arreglos" for local lovelorn couples. 

What unites these two women in this clandestine cottage industries?

Both are here illegally. Both have families and had ben able to work as house cleaners or restaurant waitresses before the ICE crackdown across the city, and the country, for that matter.

"Tengo miedo," they say. "If ICE takes me, what am I going to do without my kids, and what will they do without me?," they ask. "Mejor me quedo trabajando en la casa." (I'm afraid...I'd rather stay working at home.)

Nowadays, instead of patronizing downtown restaurants, shopping downtown, or even taking a respite and going to a occasional dance and drink at local clubs, the women choose to remain at home.

Their talents and handmade products are known to their clients who know where they are and seek them. But even the clients know how to be circumspect and protect their whereabouts. And so, hidden, they ply their wares to make ends meet. 

Their prices, compared to legal producers and stores, are very competitive and attract bargain-minded neighbors and friends. But – in the case of tamales and other foods prepared at home (like buñuelos or pozole for the holidays) – there is no inspection by local health authorities. It's a chance local customers are willing to take.

There are other products produced and services rendered by this clandestine economy driven underground by the ICE crackdown. You can get your nails done, your house cleaned, your hair done, have your car washed and detailed, buy diced nopalitos, and even get minor dental work done by technicians from Matamoros in the safety of local private homes in the burgeoning cottage industries driven underground by the immigration crackdown.

There is also a note of defiance from their clients as they patronize these hidden providers in spite of the potential penalties for defying the ICE mandates to denounce people who are here illegally. They say that everyone has to make a living and feel a certain solidarity with the struggles of women like Doña Lali and Doña Lily, who have nothing else but the honest fruit of their labors to sustain them.

"Pobrecita," said a customer who was leaving Doña Lali's home with his dozen tamales de platano in hand. "Fuck ICE."