Maria Gonzales Mabbutt nurses her four-month-old
daughter Marisa in her Canyon County home while she tells her
story. She is 43 and grew up as many Hispanics in her generation
did: migrating.
From the Rio Grande Valley town
of Elsa, Texas, Mabbutt worked alongside her family, picking bell
peppers, cotton, cucumbers; weeding cotton and soybeans and
harvesting tomatoes in places as far away as Pontiac, Ill. She
became her family's interpreter at the age of 12, when she
successfully guided them through a car breakdown near St. Louis and
on to their final destination at a farm in Illinois. When the
farmer came out to meet the family, he demanded to know who was
this Maria he'd been talking with on the phone. He was shocked to
meet a child.
"That was my
first job as interpreter," Mabbutt says, laughing. She has
dedicated her life to farm worker advocacy and is now teaching
pesticide safety to Idaho farm workers, a program in its second
year of an EPA grant through Idaho Legal Aid. Mabbutt is the
project director of the Farm Worker Empowerment Project, which in
its first year reached 500 workers. Two hundred were trained in
pesticide safety and 150 joined a farm workers' coalition called
the United Farm Workers of Idaho. The national UFW has no real
presence in Idaho, but Mabbutt says she's inspired by the legacy of
United Farm Workers' founder Cesar Chavez, whom she first met in
1986.
"What I most remember
about (meeting him) was I was so awestruck that I was speechless. I
always believed it was his aura. Not so much what he said, but who
he was. You could tell his strength and his dedication."
Three weeks before he died, Mabbutt had a
chance to stop and say hello to him each morning as they passed on
the beach at a national farm workers' conference in San Diego. "And
he'd always ask me how I was and I always felt what an honor - that
Cesar Chavez was talking to me!'
After Chavez
died, Mabbutt, then in the midst of a difficult time
professionally, had a dream that helped her see her life
differently.
"I dreamed we
were at this national farm workers' conference, and this was two
years after he died, and I was speaking, and he was sitting in the
audience. I finished speaking and it turned into a dance floor and
all the chairs were turned around and the music started playing.
Cesar Chavez comes up to me and he asks me to dance. "Can I have
the honor of dancing with you?" And so we're dancing and I could
really feel his strength again. But as I got stronger I felt his
body grow weaker to the point that his hand rested on my left
shoulder and he was holding on to me. At that point two guys, they
seemed liked bodyguards, came and pulled him away. Then he smiled
at me. I woke up and I was crying. I thought, what does this
mean?
"Given what I was going
through at the time, I felt that he gave me his strength. I
remember telling the staff where I worked at the Department of
Labor when he died that it was sad, but now we have a farm worker
advocate angel."
She begins to cry and looks
down at baby Marisa, stroking her hair, rocking back and forth,
back and forth.
*S.L.






