The immigration of thousands of people from Casa Blanca to Tulsa is causing social problems on both sides of the border
DAY 1: A peculiar immigration history ties Tulsa to Casa Blanca,Mexico, and has brought thousands of immigrants - legal and illegal - from Casa Blanca to Tulsa.
DAY 2: Life in Casa Blanca isn't easy, and
every year more people leave for Tulsa. "A
lot of kids have the idea in their heads
already," says one resident.
TODAY: Casa Blanca and Tulsa often share a
symbiotic relationship. But there are also
problems.
ONLINE: http://www.tulsaworld.com/casablanca.asp
Nearly 1,200 miles and a way of life separate Tulsa from Casa Blanca, Mexico, but a tangled relationship holds the two places together in a prickly embrace.
One can't easily live without the other, and the two create problems for each other along the way. Migration from Mexico pulls families apart, empties schools and sucks productivity from Casa Blanca's already ailing economy.
Migration to Tulsa by illegal immigrants is blamed for creating social, medical and criminal costs, with U.S. citizens picking up the bill. U.S. Rep. John Sullivan, R-Okla., is urging the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to raise its profile in Tulsa by opening an immigration enforcement office in the city and adding agents.
According to U.S. Rep John Sullivan, the overwhelming majority of illegal
aliens in Oklahoma are working in low-skilled jobs and Oklahomans are paying for illegal immigrants' health care, education and incarceration costs. "Illegal labor depresses wages and makes it difficult for lower-income Americans to compete against companies that hire an illegal work force."
Those sympathetic to the plight of the immigrants disagree with the idea that illegal immigrants don't contribute to the tax base or the health of the economy. "I haven't found a cash register in Wal-Mart that says 'This register for undocumented, no taxes,' " said Tulsan Sebastian Lantos, president of the Coalition of Hispanic Organizations. "Without immigrants, the tax base would shrink, labor cost would be higher, the vitality and growth of our community would slow down. America is based on immigrants; the problem is that there are no set of comprehensive immigration laws that benefit both businesses and workers alike, creating this chaos."
Loss and gain
A shrinking population in Casa Blanca means new students are enrolling in Tulsa-area schools, where a rise in enrollment and language barriers push demand on resources.
Newcomer International School, 10908 E. Fifth St., opened in Tulsa specifically to meet the need of students who speak a different language. Principal Tucky Roger says 216 of the 220 students at that school speak Spanish as their first language.
"I think half of Zacatecas goes to school here," jokes Roger, referring to Casa Blanca's state.
One of the school's translators is from Casa Blanca. Mario Mauricio came to Tulsa on a student visa. His wife also works at Newcomer International.
The doors at Tulsa Public Schools are open to all children, regardless of citizenship status.
"We enroll who lives in our area," said Barbara Penrose, principal of Cooper Elementary School near 21st Street and Garnett Road. "We don't have to have citizenship documents."
Back in Casa Blanca, very few students finish high school. Tales of quick money to be made in Tulsa seduce them, said Raul Ramos, the sixth-grade teacher in Casa Blanca's elementary school who spoke through an interpreter.
"It saddens me he wants to leave," says Ramos, looking at one of his brightest students. "He's extremely smart, but he wants to go to Tulsa."
If they drop out of high school or never enter it in Casa Blanca, there is little chance they will go to school in Tulsa, said Ramos.
As a result, almost two-thirds of adult Mexican immigrants have not completed high school. Mexican immigrants now account for 22 percent of all high school dropouts in the labor force, according to the Center for Immigration Studies.
Looking around Casa Blanca's tidy elementary school, Ramos and the other teachers feel they are fighting a losing battle.
"We're here, and we want to make a go of it," Ramos said.
"Our country is Mexico, and we should make it work for us. I think we should make Mexico excel, and education is the key."
Tulsa's influence
Seen from the perspective of Casa Blanca, Tulsa is a problem.
Fathers head for Tulsa in search of work. Mothers stay in Casa Blanca to care for a house full of children and wait.
"Ask the children what they have," said Terresa Lopez de Bernal. "They have sadness because they grow up without parents."
Bernal's husband is working in Tulsa. He regularly sends money home, but she doesn't think it's worth it.
"I have three kids, and dad isn't home. ... They suffer," she said.
Money doesn't replace the presence of a father, she said.
Plus, spouses at home worry that the long distance between Casa Blanca and Tulsa strains the fidelity of marriage.
"When you're over there, you're single. Everybody's single in Tulsa," said Ignacio Bernal, who visited for a short time before his wife insisted he come home.
Dr. Jose Luis Navarro Olvera, 25, has spent a year in Casa Blanca as part of a Mexican government health program. He believes people in Casa Blanca have changed as their relationship with Tulsa has grown.
Casa Blanca isn't the isolated farming community it used to be, where people didn't have much and they didn't know it.
More and more, Tulsa's influence is creeping into Casa Blanca, and Olvera doesn't think that's necessarily a good thing.
For example, now it's a status symbol for a child to eat a Twinkie and drink a Coke for a school lunch, Olvera said.
"The fact that we are connected to a first world (country) affects our diet," Olvera said.
High birth rates persist, while family cash generated in Tulsa is giving people in Casa Blanca a taste of the "good life."
"This is what we are inheriting from Tulsa -- diabetes, hypertension and obesity," Olvera said.
'The north is here'
Outside a gym in Casa Blanca, a group of about 10 women rake up trash in a dusty gravel parking lot to prepare for a rare visit by the state's governor.
Anticipation was building in this small town as people awaited the arrival of Gov. Amalia García, the first female governor of Zacatecas, the state where Casa Blanca is located.
She was coming to Casa Blanca to launch a government program that provides livestock for families to raise and sell.
"This program is aimed to prevent emigration so women don't fall apart," said Letecia Mauricia Becerra, a local woman planning to participate in the program.
It's a small thing -- a family raising a few sheep -- but it's more than they had before.
But the program is about more than that, said Becerra. It's about empowering women who feel helpless amid the seemingly endless exodus from Casa Blanca.
"We are going to try it because children grow up here, and the first thing they think about is going north," said Becerra, 37, a mother of six. Her oldest son wants to go to Tulsa, but she thinks it's a bad idea.
"His uncles have gone and come back with big fancy trucks," she said. "They like easy money."
She told her son if he goes to a Mexican university and brings her the degree, then he can go to Tulsa.
"The U.S. is a fountain of work, but it's not what it appears to be," she said. "My husband thinks the north is here; all you have to do is work."
García has indicated that the best way to stem immigration to the United State is to create more job opportunities, extend credit, spend on infrastructure and promote development in Mexico, according to the Center for Latin American Studies at the University of California, Berkeley.
Fast life, simple life
In the early afternoon, Manuel Becerra takes a break from patching the adobe brick wall around his home in Casa Blanca.
The 56-year-old grew up here, and he met his wife, Florentina, at a local dance. His five brothers all live in Tulsa now.
Manuel Becerra and his wife both went to Tulsa to work for a while; he in construction, and she at a nursing home. They're planning on going back to Tulsa for a few months after the harvest. "We don't go by pleasure," said Manuel Becerra. "We go out of necessity."
The cash helps them get by in Casa Blanca where their farming income is marginal.
Inside his house, he takes out a guitar that he bought at a flea market in Tulsa.
He sits down in the kitchen and begins to play a song about Casa Blanca's past -- the way it used to be, when wells were brimming with water and families seemed to have all they needed.
Florentina is standing by the stove, piling homemade tortillas in a basket to go with a bean dish.
Her husband's voice rises and falls, as he strums the guitar and sings.
The afternoon sun casts a soft light through the kitchen window.
"We love Mexico," Manuel says, after finishing his song. "In the North you don't have time to enjoy these things. You live a good life, but you run."
A cow in the backyard keeps the Becerras supplied with milk and cheese. They wake when the sun comes up and sleep when it's dark. Life is simple.
"When I have nothing better to do, I play the guitar," Manuel says. "Things in Casa Blanca are tranquil. Things are peaceful."
'Zacatecas has the largest population migrating to the U.S.'
CASA BLANCA, Mexico - This exodus out of Mexico is not undocumented by its government.
Of the country's 32 states, Zacatecas (Zak-a-TEK-as) - where Casa Blanca is located - is among the largest in land area and smallest in number of people.
In Zacatecas, the population growth rate is the slowest in the country, according to the National Institute of Statistic and Geographic Information of Mexico.
Between 1990 and 2000 the national growth rate of Mexico was 1.85 percent, while Zacatecas barely expanded at 0.59 percent, the institute said.
"Zacatecas has the largest population migrating to the U.S.," said Dr. Jose Luis Navaro Olvera, who spent a year in Casa Blanca through a Mexican public health program. "That number jumped out to me."
Globalization of farming is one of a combination of reasons people are leaving Zacatecas. In what is historically a silver mining region, rural farm towns such as Casa Blanca sprouted up to grow food for the silver-producing cities.
But now with agricultural distributors able to buy and sell on a global scale and name their price, small farmers in Casa Blanca are losing.
