Hunting Season by Mirta Ojito Read Free Book Online

Ecuadorians in Patchogue seemed to be leaderless. Everyone went about his or her business individually, a behavior typical of recent arrivals. Ecuadorians were not yet seeking a presence in the town’s life; they were trying to survive.
    Then, in the early fall of 2002, Kaleda found an item on the front page of the local paper, the Long Island Advance, that caught her eye: “Planting Roots on Long Island, Surging Hispanic Population Hopes to Break Barriers in America.” 5
    Finally, Kaleda thought as she read, somebody else has noticed the obvious:
Martha Vázquez is a long way from home, but she has lots of company.
A native of Gualaceo, Ecuador, Vázquez says there are more than 16,000 people from her South American homeland who have migrated to Long Island during the past 30 years. The Patchogue Village resident, who moved here 15 years ago and officially became a US citizen on Aug. 15, 1998, also says that at least 4,000 Ecuadorians now live in the greater Patchogue areas.
The most interesting statistic, according to the 32-year-old wife and mother of one, is that all of them came from the same small village in Ecuador.
[ . . . ]
On a local level, the Hispanic population in Patchogue village, for example, has increased by 84.1 percent between 1990 and 2000, according to recent census figures. Approximately 2,842 individuals of Latino descent now live withinthe borders of the 2.2-square-mile village. The cultural metamorphosis is most apparent on South Ocean Avenue, where Spanish bodegas and meat markets now dominate the commercial corridor.
[ . . . ]
In addition to seeking employment opportunities, the majority of Ecuadorians living on Long Island either are or hope to become full-fledged tax-paying American citizens, according to Vázquez, spokeswoman for the newly incorporated Ecuadorians United in Long Island. The Patchogue-based group now boasts almost 60 members, but only two speak good English, highlighting one of the barriers that the growing local Hispanic population must contend with.
    Kaleda had found her answers. In a few paragraphs she had noted a need she knew she could fulfill—English lessons—and learned the name of a person who seemed poised to help, Martha Vázquez. She picked up the phone and called Vázquez. The article had identified her as working for a local bank.
    Vázquez was receptive, immediately grasping Kaleda’s intentions, and invited her to the next meeting. The group—no more than ten that night—met in a space above a Chinese restaurant on Main Street. Kaleda went and mostly listened. Group members were discussing one of their first projects: a community garden on South Ocean Avenue. Kaleda understood that if she wanted to attract Ecuadorians to the library she needed to reach many more than ten. She needed to do it in Spanish and through a publication they trusted. Someone at the meeting mentioned that the most trusted publication among Hispanics in Patchogue was not on Long Island, but in Ecuador, more than three thousand miles away: a weekly newspaper called Semanario El Pueblo, which was edited and published in Gualaceo on Sundays, and arrived in Patchogue by Thursdays.
    The next day Kaleda composed an e-mail in Spanish to the publisher, Fernando León, telling him that the doors of the library were open to the Ecuadorian community and that library employees were eager to work with them. She also asked him for advice on how best to reach the community. She was hoping for an e-mail response, or even simple confirmation that her e-mail had been received, but heard nothing. A few days later, the first three Gualaceños walked into the library looking for Kaleda.
    How did you find me? she asked, startled but pleased.
    They pointed to a copy of El Pueblo they carried with them. The publisher had used Kaleda’s e-mail as a letter to the editor. The ice was broken.
    The outreach program was set into high gear. Bienvenido al Pueblo welcome packets, modeled on the library’s