Migrant workers’ (non)belonging in
rural British Columbia, Canada: storied
experiences of Marginal Living
Susana Caxaj and Luis Diaz
Susana Caxaj is Assistant
Professor at the Faculty of
Health and Social
Development, School of
Nursing, University of British
Columbia, Kelowna, Canada.
Luis Diaz is based at Radical
Action with Migrants in
Agriculture, Kelowna, Canada.
Received 5 May 2017
Revised 19 January 2018
Accepted 23 March 2018
PAGE 208 j INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF MIGRATION, HEALTH AND SOCIAL CARE
Abstract
Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to examine the experiences of belonging and wellbeing among
temporary migrant agricultural workers (TMAWs) in a rural setting in the interior of British Columbia, Canada.
Design/methodology/approach – A qualitative narrative approach informed by participatory action
research principles was employed. In total, 12 migrant workers participated in two to four one-on-one
interviews and/or focus group conversations.
Findings – The analysis revealed an over-arching theme of Marginal Living encompassing stories of always
on the outside, mechanisms of isolation and exclusion; struggling for the basics, realities of worrying about
daily bare necessities; and “nothing but a worker’s,” experiences of being reduced only to one’s labor. These
storied experiences each impacted workers’ wellbeing and typically limited their ability to feel a sense of
belonging. Yet, workers exerted agency and resilience through storied experiences of “one family and for
those who come next.” Their efforts contributed to building a sense of community through mutual support
and advocacy.
Originality/value – Very few studies have focused on the day-to-day experiences of this population and its
influence on their sense of belonging and wellbeing. This study is also the first to examine this topic within this
particular region (the rural BC interior). These findings can provide a starting point for improved program
planning to address challenges faced by TMAWs in rural Western Canada. Further, they expand the
understanding of concepts such as partial citizenship and structural exclusion as they apply in the day-to-day
realities of migrant workers in rural BC.
Keywords Community health, Vulnerability, Mental wellbeing, Marginalization, Belonging,
Migrant agricultural worker
Paper type Research paper
Introduction
The agricultural sector in Canada relies heavily on the labor of temporary migrant agricultural
workers (TMAWs). In fact, roughly 75 percent of labor gaps in the agricultural sector have been
filled by this group. With labor shortages doubling in the last decade, and predicted to double
again by 2025, the agricultural sector continues to look to TMAWs to fill this gap (Canadian
Agricultural Human Resources Council (CAHRC), 2016). Currently, TMAWs make up the largest
group of temporary foreign workers in Canada with 53,000 of the 90,211 workers approved for
entry in Canada in 2016 (CAHRC, 2016). Consequently, there is increased urgency to
understand the issues faced by this population.
TMAWs typically come under two streams: the Seasonal Agricultural Worker Program (SAWP),
or, the agricultural stream of the Temporary Foreign Worker Program (TFWP) (Fudge and
MacPhail, 2009). Of these two streams, the SAWP is the most well established. Having started
as a pilot program in the 1960s with Jamaican workers and then extending to Barbados and
Trinidad and Tobago in Ontario, it has since expanded to every province (Barnes, 2013;
Hennebry and Preibisch, 2012; Vosko 2013). In 1974, Mexican workers joined the program
(Barnes, 2013). The SAWP program, an umbrella policy that houses bilateral agreements
j VOL. 14 NO. 2 2018, pp. 208-220, © Emerald Publishing Limited, ISSN 1747-9894 DOI 10.1108/IJMHSC-05-2017-0018
between Canada and “sending” or origin countries from Mexico and the Caribbean, however,
only came into use in British Columbia in 2004.
TMAWs are a growing group in the country. In 2015, 41,702 laborers were employed under the
SAWP, a continuous growth since the influx of 27,489 workers in the program in 2008. A less
significant yet growing number of workers have come under the TFWP’s agricultural stream with
9,997 workers employed in the program in 2015, a marked increase from the 2,156 workers
recruited through the program in 2010 (Employment and Social Development Canada (ESDC)
Website, 2016). This program is much more recent in the province of BC having started as a pilot
program in 2002 and only having been made permanent in 2011 (Hennebry and Preibisch, 2012).
In 2015, 6,981 workers came to BC under SAWP and 1,650 under the TFWP agricultural stream
(ESDC Website, 2016).
Our research was situated in the Okanagan and Similkameen valleys. Based on data from urban
catchment areas, the Okanagan-Similkameen hosts approximately 2,980 workers, second only
to the Fraser Valley in terms of employment of temporary foreign workers in the province of BC
(ESDC Website, 2016). Workers residing in the Okanagan-Similkameen may experience unique
challenges due to the socio-cultural and rural characteristics of much of the region. For instance,
scholars have described the racist legacy that has shaped contemporary treatment and
representation of workers in the area (Aguiar et al., 2010). Further, despite the growing
demographic diversity in the region, many local discourses reinforce the notion of the area as a
monolithic white society (Aguiar et al., 2005), demarcating who is an “insider” and who is an
“outsider.” These local discourses can further isolate workers who are located in remote, rural,
and/or small towns with limited access to transportation, public services, businesses, or a wider
community network (Foster and Taylor 2013). Arguably, the shorter duration of the program in
the province likely exacerbates challenges in the region because there is a shorter history of
advocacy in the province which limits the supports and resources available to workers.
Despite the many documented challenges faced by TMAWs in Canada, little research has
examined their experiences of belonging, non-belonging, or, sense of connectedness in their
community, particularly as it relates to overall wellbeing. Social connectedness is an important
determinant of wellbeing because it influences one’s mental health, health behaviors, and ability
to access supports and services (Caxaj and Gill, 2016; Mahar et al., 2014). Workers under the
SAWP program can reside for up to eight months in Canada, and often, participate in the
program for decades, returning year after year (Barnes 2013; Preibisch, 2010; Vosko, 2013).
Workers are entitled to public services during their time in Canada, but advocacy groups note
that such services are difficult for workers to access, and consequently, frequently not used
(Barnes, 2013; Basok, 2004) Thus, it is critical to examine these workers’ experiences of
belonging during their time in Canada in order to better identify the factors that hinder and
enable their connection to the community, and, the implications that such experiences may
have for their wellbeing.

TMAWs’ wellbeing
TMAWs face several challenges to their wellbeing. They face linguistic and cultural barriers and
incidents of discrimination that can negatively impact their access to, and quality of, health care
(Fairey et al., 2008; Fudge and MacPhail, 2009). Further, as agricultural workers, they are at a
higher risk for various occupational hazards and injuries (Forst et al., 2006; Grzywacz et al., 2013)
than workers in other sectors. TMAWs in particular face unique challenges that limit their mental
wellbeing and sense of belonging.
First, TMAWs often experience social stigma, isolation, and consequent emotional duress. Long
work hours, occupancy on their employer’s property, community distrust, particularly when
residing in small towns, can significantly impact the opportunities that seasonal workers have to
interact with the wider population. Media discourses describing workers as problems, and
justifying their unequal treatment may perpetuate their vulnerability (Bauder, 2008). In addition,
separation from their family can negatively impact their mental health (McLaughlin, 2009). Further,
migrant farm workers experience high psychological demands in their work, which is related to
poor/fair health status and symptoms of depression (Barnes, 2013; Grzywacz et al., 2013).

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 Second, TMAWs are uniquely susceptible to workplace hazards and injuries. Limited training and
English abilities can make it more difficult for workers to be cognizant of appropriate safety
standards (Bridi, 2013, Fairey et al., 2008; Forst et al., 2006). In some cases, the death of migrant
workers has been linked to the lack of signage in their languages warning them of workplace
dangers (Tucker, 2006). Further, TMAWs experience higher rates of injuries and illness due to
repetitive strain, long hours, awkward and elevated heights, chronic exposure to toxins and the
elements, and inadequate training (Barnes, 2013; Fairey et al., 2008; Forst et al., 2006;
Gibb, 2010). They are also less likely to be able to access resources to support safe work
conditions due to their isolation (Sharma, 2006; Preibisch, 2004). Support-seeking is further
hindered by the precarious status of these workers. It is estimated that 70-80 percent of workers
are re-hired ( for subsequent seasons) by name and their contract is tied to a single employer
(Gabriel and MacDonald, 2011; Hennebry, 2014; Vosko, 2013). This arrangement can create a
coercive work environment and a “perverse incentive” to work excessively long hours and to
accept unsafe work conditions (Fairey et al., 2008; Hennebry, 2014; Preibisch, 2010; Sargeant
and Tucker, 2009).
Third, TMAWs may be uniquely challenged when seeking appropriate care, compensation, or
workplace protections. Migrant workers face disadvantages in bargaining for better working
conditions in comparison to workers with permanent residence due to their high economic
precarity, and the situated global inequity which motivates them to seek employment in a
temporary migrant program in the first place (Fudge and MacPhail, 2009; Vosko, 2013). Although
in theory TMAWs are entitled to many of the same protections as domestic workers, unequal
access and power dynamics often result in workers not seeking or receiving the benefits that they
are entitled to. In one study, for instance, only 1 of 20 workers who had been injured received
workers’ compensation, with the majority taking unpaid days off or returning to Mexico because
they were deemed “unfit to work” (Basok, 2004). On average, TMAWs may work 6.5 days of the
week, 10 hours a day, and more during peak seasons. This is often a source of fatigue and
occupational illness which may be exacerbated by chronic exposure to chemicals (Sargeant and
Tucker, 2009). While rules do exist to monitor workplace conditions in BC, there is limited funding
and capacity to oversee and enforce them (Fairey et al., 2008).
Overall, research on TMAWs in Canada points to many health hazards, chief among them being
substandard housing and sanitation, mental health difficulties, barriers to accessing health care
services, and limited abilities to improve or maintain their health (Salami et al., 2016). Yet, most
research on migrant farm workers’ health in Canada is focused in Ontario. Focused on two
valleys in the interior of rural British Columbia, our research questions were as follows:
RQ1. What are the experiences of belonging (or non-belonging) among TMAWs in this region?
RQ2. How does a sense of belonging (or lack of ) shape mental wellbeing among this group?

Belonging, theoretical underpinnings, and research design

We defined belonging as a sense or degree of social connectedness experienced between and
among individuals, groups, and institutions. Belonging is often encountered as a dialectic of
exclusion and inclusion navigated by immigrant and newcomer populations (Caxaj and Berman,
2010; Caxaj and Gill, 2016; Mahar et al., 2014). Experiences of belonging are contingent on several
dimensions, including time, space, affective, and relational elements (Gustafson, 2009). In a very
practical sense, it is understood as a culmination of social bonds. Yet, these bonds are largely
constrained and shaped by material and discursive practices that may segregate the temporary
worker from the wider community (Boese and Phillips, 2017; Horgan and Liinamaa, 2016).
Prior research with temporary migrant workers has outlined the relevance of both strong ties that
enable reciprocity and bonding, and weak ties that are instrumental in providing access to
opportunities and services (Mayes, 2017). These bonds may be catalyzed by key events that
enable permanent and temporary residents to recognize common goals or struggles, and
workers’ participation in cultural or faith-based networks (Mayes, 2017; Preibisch, 2010).
In Boese and Phillips’ (2017) research with a variety of temporary visa holders in Australia, they
distinguished between three types of influences on belonging: cultural (shared common practices

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or interests), social (interpersonal exchanges), and legal. While cultural and social influences could
enable belonging by providing opportunities for shared experiences and relationship-building, legal
influences largely undermined their efforts to belong. In particular, their temporary status had a
negative impact on temporary visa holders’ ability to access services as well as labor protections,
which, in turn, created additional vulnerabilities in the civic and interpersonal realm. Alienation from
the wider community and isolation among TMAWs have often been documented, and in addition to
legal restrictions, have been attributed to spatial segregation, and limited freedom of movement
experienced by some workers (Horgan and Liinamaa, 2016; Mayes, 2017).
Given these realities, an examination of belonging among this population merits a theoretical
orientation sensitive to structures and conditions that enable vulnerability or experiences of
marginalization (Caxaj and Berman, 2010; Mahar et al., 2014). Consequently, our research was
guided by principles of popular education, in particular, the centering of participant knowledge,
collective consensus-building, and accessible knowledge co-construction for the purpose of
addressing injustices and mitigating socio-economic barriers (Wiggins, 2011; Freire, 1993).
Complimenting this orientation, our study was informed by participatory action research
principles and a narrative analysis. We built strategies of partnered co-construction of findings,
explicit relationship-building, and coalition-building for planning toward action (Caxaj, 2015;
Cohen and Caxaj, 2018).
Actions to enact PAR principles included engagement in a variety of outreach and
relationship-building activities (Caxaj, 2015). For instance, we attended several social events
organized by local volunteers, assisted with volunteer English classes, and helped workers with
translation and information navigation related to health care or workplace issues. In order to
promote transparency and partnerships, we held a public picnic in the park to share information
about the project in an accessible and culturally appropriate manner. We integrated beginning
action planning into our follow-up interview sessions in order to initiate a commitment toward
social change in synchrony with our analysis. Finally, we partnered with local volunteers and
advocacy organizations in the region if workers expressed a desire for further support or help
advocating for themselves. Through these activities, we communicated a strong commitment to
workers’ wellbeing beyond the collection of data, and further, helped build transparency and
collaboration into the research process.
Each participant was approached by Caxaj or Diaz in person at a social event, or, in a public
setting, at which time the nature of the study was explained to them and their contact information
for follow-up was collected. Once in a private location of the participants’ choosing, a letter of
information was read aloud and any questions that arose were answered. Participants were then
again asked to confirm their consent to participate in the study. Participants were given the
choice of participating in either one-on-one interviews or group conversations. Open-ended
questions such as “what does it feel like to live in this [town]?” or “what makes you feel like you
belong/don’t belong” were posed. If necessary, follow-up probes were asked, such as “can you
tell me more about that?” or “can you give me an example?”
A narrative approach aligns with PAR principles because it emphasizes the contextual and
relational forces as they are negotiated, experienced, and storied by participants (Caxaj, 2015;
McCormack, 2000). Further, this approach prompts the researcher to consider contradictory
and complex phenomena (Caxaj, 2015) in order to capture the range of experiences of
belonging or non-belonging we anticipated we would find. We employed McCormack’s (2000)
narrative lenses (e.g. context, key moments, and purpose) and guidelines for re-storying
narrative accounts. Concretely, our narrative approach involved listening and re-listening to
audio-recordings and bringing back key themes and stories to our participants to develop greater
understanding of key experiences. We worked to co-construct emerging findings, first, by
working within cases, bringing back our understandings to individuals and groups involved in
initial interviews in one to two follow-up interviews or focus groups. So, Diaz would return to
participants with a summary of the prior conversation and a few clarifying questions with the
objective of confirming that the key take-home messages had been captured authentically.
Second, we interpreted across cases, mapping out converging experiences, exceptional cases,
and patterned occurrences that had been highlighted in our follow-up interviews and additional
reviews and audio-recordings. This would be carried out by each author reviewing each case on

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 their own and making a list of notable moments or insights by asking questions of the text such as
What is (or is not) surprising or different about this case? What incidents shed light, complicate or
negate emerging themes? What moments are contradictory or unique in this example? Then,
both authors would meet and share their list, working toward the most complete interpretation of
accounts that they had reviewed.
In total, we interviewed 17 male participants from Mexico and Jamaica from farms in the
Okanagan-Similkameen region, all enrolled under the SAWP. Workers ranged in age from their
20s to their 50s and from rural and urban settings. Most participants were married and all had
children residing in their home country. We also included interviews with two French Canadian
domestic agricultural workers that we felt enriched and contextualized TMAWs’ accounts.
No information is provided about specific farms where participants worked because such details
may be traced to employers in the region and reveal the identity of some of our participants.
All participants confirmed their consent on an ongoing basis verbally. All research activities were
approved by Caxaj’s institutional ethics board. All names used in the results section are
pseudonyms.

Research findings
Our analysis identified two over-arching themes: Marginal Living and Pushed to the Edge. In this
paper, we will discuss storied experiences of Marginal Living including: always on the outside,
struggling for the basics, nothing but a worker, and one family. We have opted to use the present
tense in this section to stay true to our experiences with TMAW, and importantly, to convey that
we continue to see these same issues and challenges among workers that we meet. We have
also explicitly inserted our voice in the narrative in order to better capture the context, tone and
implications of the words that were shared as we understood them.
Chapter 1: always on the outside
Exclusion known by many names. A welcoming community “lives together, greets one another,
comes together […]” agree the workers. Canadians are generally friendly say some, the problem
is the employer. Angelico notices the difference having spent some time in Quebec, he reflects
“the people are peaceful, the people in Montreal are a bit more racist […] it’s not that they are
more racist, a little with more mistrust, the people.” Others say that they face intolerance from
everyone, in part, because of the language, but because they are most exposed to employers,
they get it worse from them. No matter where it is coming from, workers tell us that the
discrimination takes a psychological toll.
For others, it is not quite a hostility they experience day to day, but a cold indifference. Manuel
says “I have never felt that I belong [here].” His co-workers agree that “there is a little bit of
indifference […]” around town. Another, appears to be putting on a brave face and comments
“it’s ok […] it’s just that we really struggle to speak English.” But for many, that is not a little thing.
Leonel remarks “psychologically […] it makes me feel badly because I don’t speak the language,
so it depresses me, [making it so I’m]not wanting to return to the country [Canada].”
(Earned yet) always out of reach. So who deserves to belong to the community? What makes a
person an included member? One worker states “I work, I live, I buy things here,” implying that
he has earned his right to be recognized as a member of the community because he has
proved his worth. He is a productive contributor and a local consumer. Could it be that
messages in the media or stereotypes about Mexicans play a role? This question is of central
importance to one group of workers. Many of them agree, “they think we are bad people […]”
“We Mexicans are good people, humble people,” one worker retorts to no one in particular.
Andrew, a Jamaican worker, recalls the scrutiny that he has faced during his time in Canada in
a town in BC:
In Beaumont [fictional name], when we were in Beaumont, we couldn’t do [nothing]. If a black guy
comes in the community or in the city or in the town of Beaumont - haven’t done anything – the cops
would be coming straight to us. It was only 4 black guys […] and everyone, oh those are
the Jamaicans.

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There seems to be an intangible prejudice that workers struggle to prove wrong, and as
racialized people, their day to day reflects the contradiction of being highly visible while remaining
on the periphery.
Perhaps there is a class element as well as a racial element. A French Canadian picker also
appears to be debating an oppressive force that marks him as outside of the community.
He states:
I’m not a bum, I tell you, I’m just a picker! Maybe [ I ] look like a bum but I think we are good person […]
and first we do that because we love to pick and that’s what I love to do, that’s where I do good
money, and, yeah […].

Again, his contribution appears to go unnoticed. Yet, a larger question emerges from these
conversations. Is it not the fact that these workers are valued only for their economic worth that
limits their inclusion and their very humanity?
“I would like to stay.” One worker says, “Leaving Jamaica, come to Canada, to and from […]
Maybe have a chance one day, maybe get a visa, maybe become a citizen. I would like to stay […]
I would love to, love to stay.” Gerald’s dream reflects a desire that many workers wish for, yet their
inherent temporary status bars them from this dream. Many of them ask us questions about
immigration, visas, education for their children in Canada, opportunities for different types of
employment, usually when the audio-recorder is off. Most of them live more time in Canada than
they do in their country of citizenship, some of them for years, and even decades. Over a season,
we see many workers recognize how distinct their work visa is from others. There is virtually no
pathway to citizenship through the SAWP. Most workers learn this reality during their time here.
We often have uncomfortable conversations with workers where we have to explain this situation
to them. Gerald would like this to change. He sees the time that his co-workers and himself spend
working in the country as something that should count toward citizenship. He says:
I think, our government should make something – Ok, this guy hasn’t caused trouble for 5 years – Ok –
this guy is legal for 10 years [under the SAWP], if he want to become a Canadian citizen, yes. You have
to pay taxes in Canada. Oh come on man, he pay more tax in Canada than in Jamaica! He spend more
time in Canada, more than in Jamaica […] Go ahead, he’s been behaving himself good. He hasn’t got
himself in trouble with the law. Ok if he want to become a citizen, yeah let him, go ahead. If he want to
take his family, let him, ok. Is the next family coming to work? Ok, a little more tax […] yeah, it would be
so great.

Gerald is not named back by his employer, in his words, for “making trouble.” Like most SAWP
workers, their dream to reside more permanently in Canada, is not to be.

Chapter 2: struggling for the basics

Isolation is an invisible boundary. Geronimo’s boss charges him gas money to drive him to the
nearest town. He asks us, “is that fair or unfair?” Groceries are very expensive in the local
township. He knows that other bosses absorb this expense. “I don’t know if it is obligatory or
not,” he repeats. We do not know either. The boss is obliged to take them to get groceries but we
are not sure if a law protects workers from being charged for such trips. Oversight and
enforcement are not strong suits of the SAWP from our experience supporting workers in the
Okanagan, and of course, employers are not obliged to take workers to an affordable store.
Any grocery store will do. Other workers are restricted because of the few hours they are given
off. Working long days virtually uninterrupted they state “we struggle with the food […]
sometimes, one sandwich all day because we don’t have [time]. With a half hour what could we
do […] [so] we get delayed, [when] one gets back, [the boss is] incredibly angry.”
On another farm, workers talk about the unwillingness of their employer to take them to the doctor.
Repeating their bosses’ words, “Get Ingrid to take you,” a local volunteer who is always in demand
to help workers navigate the system. It seems that many employers in the area have
off-loaded their duties to the local volunteers. In other cases, workers talk about being persuaded
not to go to the doctors, to just take pills or drink tea. “They never say, ‘let’s go to the doctor.’
They don’t want to waste their time. They don’t make the effort […]” says Miguel. Even if workers
are managing well enough to complete their work before seeking help, most services are closed by

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 the time they are getting off for the day. Language barriers pose an additional barrier. Alberto recalls
an incident when a fellow worker insisted that he should be taken to the doctor. “He [the boss] went
[…] and left us there […] and he said, ‘well […] how can I understand myself with the doctor?’ I think
that that’s wrong. No? And I’ve heard of a lot of places where the same thing has happened.”
Even for Jamaican workers without the language barrier, accessing services and public spaces
generally is difficult given the remote location of many farms and the limited access to trans-
portation. Most workers are not located in walking distance from a bus stop and do not have a
vehicle that they can use. In rare cases in which workers do have access to a vehicle, most
workers doubt their freedom to use the vehicle for activities unrelated to work. Saul comments,
“well the son says we can use it whenever we want […] but, umm, I don’t strongly believe in it.”
A home without the fixings. Imagine a trailer with no electricity, no working washroom. It radiates
heat in the Summer, and in the Winter, nothing but a few blankets to keep you warm. “I am not
demanding,” Jose wants us to know, “[…] only what is necessary.” He says it almost as an
apology, as someone who feels defeated. “He doesn’t notice if you don’t ask for it,” he adds and
Jose is sure that he is not in a position to ask. Jose pays 800 dollars to live here. He suggests to
the interviewer that a report be written, “a report of what the living conditions are here.” “The boss
should out of obligation put a bed, a little one, for each worker. He doesn’t have [provide]
anything. So I’m expected to throw myself on the ground.”
Yet, some French Canadian workers interpret the fact that any accommodation is provided at all,
as a marked advantage. Gregoire claims: “The foreigner they complain about conditions. It’s even
worse for us! We are all by ourselves!” (without housing). These French Canadian workers are not
aware that SAWP workers typically pay $800 for their lodging throughout their work period in BC.
Domestic workers can empathize, however, with the lack of freedom SAWP workers have in
choosing both their living and working conditions. Gregoire says, “I understand why they
[employers] take people from this other country [i.e. Mexico, Jamaica] because they set up a
bunch of rules to, if they don’t follow, they are kind of on [a] leash. It’s close to slaving to me.”
“Yeah, slavery, yeah,” Philippe agrees. So, domestic workers often are faced with poor living
conditions, but their freedom of movement appears to provide a kind of safeguard that is not
available to SAWP workers.

Chapter 3: nothing but a worker

“[He] won’t even say good morning to you”. “The work is fine. No problem. The problem is the
bosses,” agree a group of Mexican workers. Carlos is sure that the ethno-cultural background of
their boss plays a role in the poor treatment they receive. He states “The problem is the Indians
[Indian Canadians)]. To me, they are not good people. I have worked for Canadians [White
Canadians]; they are good people, more tolerant of us. The Indians [Indian Canadians] think that
one is simply a – just an animal for work – a slave. To them, we are nothing. Deal with it, the best
you can, they yell at us in their own language.” The facilitator is not happy with this conclusion.
He empathizes while challenging ever so lightly. We have seen the same behavior among bosses
of different backgrounds. Surely the issue is more of enforcement and lack of regulation? The
workers agree that this is part of the problem, but Carlos would not relent on his theory, “they are
dominant people […] it’s difficult with them,” he says.
For others, their view of their boss is not quite as static. Leonardo, a worker employed in a
different farm has felt changes over time. “This year, I felt like they now, have emphasized, who is
the boss and who is the worker. This year that I returned, there were changes in them. They used
to provide [share] drinks that they drink. And now, they no longer give it. Now something is
fracturing […] since then, there I have felt it.” Beyond being a simple chance for a break and
refreshment, for Leonardo, this drink represented a moment of friendship and connection now
lost. He added “when it was time for the drink […] they integrated us in that moment, in that […]
now they are more distanced […] the harmony is broken.”
Ruben, a Jamaican worker in the area notices the stark contrast in the lack of amiability in his
current employer, compared to the friendliness of his past boss, noting, “He [current employer]
won’t say good morning to you!” More often than not, he has worked alongside bosses who have

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no interest in getting to know him and his fellow co-workers. He states: “They only like us for what
we do for them.”
Is there a contradiction in the things that workers expect from their boss? On the one hand,
Ruben says, “I’m not asking you [his boss] for anything. I am here to exchange money for my
labour.” Similarly, Leonardo comments, “[…] it doesn’t affect me much, because we come to
work.” Nonetheless, moments of being ignored or belittled by their employer seem to weigh on
many workers. It is perhaps not a full friendship that workers expect from their bosses, just a brief
acknowledgment of their full personhood, especially because most of them can spend days or
weeks only on the farm. Ruben comments: “We’re not looking for no hug and kisses from the
bosses. No. We’re not looking for that. Just a simple word. Just a small word. Just a small word.
Just a little talking. Just to make those guys smile.”
“It’s purely work[…] there is no time […]”. Advocacy groups often talk about temporary foreign
workers being “tied to their employer.” By this, they mean that workers’ permission to work is
dependent on staying with their current boss. It is very difficult for them to negotiate with their
boss because they do not have the freedom to leave, and choose a different employer. But being
tied to an employer – bound to his home, his orchard, his rules – is lived in various ways for these
workers. Arturo tells us about a time that his boss tried to prevent him from using the washroom.
He managed to go and planned to tell the consulate after. The employer’s wife convinced him to
stay quiet. In addition, their designated break times are often used to transport them to different
farms. “To them, we are animals […] there is no dignity,” he says.

On another farm, the boss insists that they not speak to one another while they work. “Why would
it bother him if we talk to one another, as long as we are working?” Armando says.
Other Jamaicans and Mexicans share similar stories of being silenced at work. With so many
restrictions while at work, and without a guaranteed day of rest, there is little opportunity for these
men to feel connected much to anything. “Like my friend says, all of the time, it’s purely work […]
there is no time to go and learn about the town for example,” says Moises. With a little bit of time
off, they might have the time and energy to seek connections off of the farm. One day off could
make a difference, a group agrees. “One day off […] because you are practically, they are long
days, your body resents it.” “There is no time to make connections,” Moises says.

Chapter 4: one family and for those who come next

Despite the struggles these workers face, it is undeniable that there is a vibrancy, a warmth, and
inner circle of support that develops among workers in many farms. Antonio talks about the
Independence Day celebration they had last year. He asks the facilitator, “are you going to come
to the celebration?” They laugh and smile as they describe the traditions, some they bring over
from Mexico, and some that they have developed from their time in the area. “We put karaoke on,
we sing with a microphone, it’s a nice time.” The group also feels a connection to non-Mexican
workers. Speaking of the Jamaicans, Eduardo shares, “They are friendly. I feel like they want to
connect with us more.” Likewise, Mexican workers find support among farm workers of other
ethno-cultural backgrounds, particularly those who speak both English and Spanish. “Yes
because sometimes we can’t explain ourselves well in English […] they support us. Sometimes
the French Canadians, sometimes the Spaniards [because they speak] English as well,”
comments Rodrigo. While most workers do not interact much with the wider community, many of
them envision the possibility of greater cultural understanding and connection among the wider
community. Francisco says:
I think it would be good that somebody, like introduce themselves [connect, liaise between groups] there
[…] so that there is a solidarity among, let’s say, among Mexicans, [White] Canadians, Indians [Indian-
Canadians], because that’s good, that’s so good that all the people, that they kind of form one big family.

Sometimes, it is the very struggles workers face that enable strong bonds to form. A group of
Mexicans tell us about a time that a boss targeted one of their co-workers. He yelled at him and
wanted to dismiss him for the day – a day of unpaid work. The rest of the workers refused to work
so long as the other worker was being sent home. The boss relented. “If he leaves, all of us leave,”
stated Jorge. On a different farm, Jamaican workers refused a day of work because their boss

VOL. 14 NO. 2 2018 j INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF MIGRATION, HEALTH AND SOCIAL CARE j PAGE 215
 was consistently paying them late, causing precarity for their families back home. “No pay, no
work,” Louis recalls saying to his boss. Like the Mexicans at Jorge’s farm, the Jamaicans at
Louis’ farm have been able to trust in each other to harness a power in numbers. On one farm,
workers talk about setting a pace for themselves collectively agreed upon, to ensure that no one
is targeted or pressured to work at an unrealistic pace. Fabundo counsels other workers in the
same boat to do the same “All of you, together, can unite.”
Separated from their families and friends, workers also provide emotional support for one
another. Silvio had not planned to join the focus group because of the frustration he is feeling
about work, but with the encouragement of his co-worker he decides to participate:
I wasn’t planning on coming, but he [his friend] said, “let’s go and just release it all. Let it all bloody out
with someone, talk about our problems – talk through the problems. If one didn’t have the support of
co-workers, we would be finished.”

Mexican workers also express gratitude when they think of the work of local volunteers. These
volunteers plan barbeques, English classes, accompany workers to health care appointments
and sometimes, advocate on their behalf to their bosses. Speaking of one volunteer, Walter says,
“it’s really an unconditional support that Lucy provides for Mexicans.” While the role of these
volunteers is crucial, the workers know that these residents are just scratching the surface. “They
need to be more supported,” agree some of the workers. We also know that the level of support
provided in this community is exceptional in comparison to other regions. In many other areas in
the Okanagan-Similkameen, there are no volunteers to support workers at all.
Despite the camaraderie that can form, we find that friendships are interrupted, heavily tested, or
made near impossible because of the working and living conditions of some workers. The pace of
work set on one farm can be felt as a treason when used against workers at a different farm. Other
times, the overcrowded housing and hierarchies that emerge on the farm catalyze further challenges
among workers. Workers picking on workers, competition; the ones who can speak a little English,
the ones who cannot; the ones who can drive tractors, the ones who never got a chance. Stereotypes
may be projected onto the bodies of workers, the Jamaicans asked to perform brute strength, the
Mexicans, conformity. These working conditions can turn Jamaicans vs Mexicans, Guatemalans vs
Jamaicans, and so on. Further, many workers face negative consequences when standing up for
other workers. Ultimately, workers tell us that things need to improve, not just for them, but for future
generations. Something has to be done, says Mario, “Maybe not for us, but for the people who follow
[…]” “Let the country come to know,” Gabriel says, “that they know how we feel, that all the people
know […] is this ok?! Document the environment […] document the things that are happening […] for
those who follow, not thinking in ourselves, but for those who are going to come.”

Discussion
The four storied experiences discussed above: always on the outside; struggling for the basics;
nothing but a worker; and one family each represents an over-arching lived narrative of “Marginal
Living.” Each of these experiences shaped migrant agricultural workers’ wellbeing and
opportunities available to build a sense of belonging. First, in accounts of always on the outside,
participants shared how they had limited access to the social and public spheres of life during
their time in Canada. Various forms of cultural and institutional exclusion limited their ability to
build meaningful connections and organically grow a support network during the agricultural
season. Similar to prior research (Basok, 2004; Bridi, 2013; Magaña and Hovey, 2003; Villarejo,
2003), workers identified geographic and social isolation, societal discrimination, language
limitations, and limited transportation as day-to-day exclusionary factors. Research in Central and
Eastern Canada also points to the spatial segregation, invisibility, and exclusion of workers in the
wider community (Hennebry, 2014; Horgan and Liinamaa, 2016; Preibisch, 2004). These
challenges can contribute to a sense of hopelessness, anxiety, depression, and suicide (Hovey
and Seligman, 2006). In terms of access to formal services, we did not encounter any workers
who were enrolled in the provincial medical care plan despite their eligibility. Although workers are
provided with private insurance, this often poses unique challenges to access for workers
(Preibisch and Otero, 2014). Most workers were not aware of, or did not access, any other type of
formal service. This is not surprising, since public services and non-profit organizations are not

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geared to the needs of this population, and may be restricted from serving them due to strict
funding mandates (personal communication, 2014). While research in Central Canada indicates
that workers’ sense of belonging has moderately transformed by the relationships that TMAWs
form with permanent residents (Preibisch, 2004), our research captured a unique rural BC
context in which these relationships are very much lacking or incredibly limited. This can be
somewhat explained by the variety of Spanish-speaking congregations, cultural groups, unions,
and advocacy groups that may exist in common areas of study in Ontario that are not present in
the BC rural interior.
Second, workers shared experiences of inadequate living conditions, struggling for the basics, as
profound challenges that limited their ability to develop a connection to the wider community.
These conditions contributed to workers’ isolation, sense of safety, basic comfort, access to
necessary hygiene, and ability to have a dignified life outside of their place of employment.
As noted elsewhere, housing conditions are variable, and frequently poor despite housing
inspections pre-arrival of TMAWs. This is attributed to the limited scope of the housing
inspections that are scheduled pre-arrival of the workers and screen for only the most basic
requirements (McLaughlin et al., 2014). Prior research consistently points to non-unionization,
exclusion under the full protection of labor laws, a one-permit employer system, fear of dismissal,
and lack of an appeal process as factors that influence workers to accept unsafe or exploitative
work conditions (Basok et al., 2014; McLaughlin et al., 2014; Barnes, 2013). If workers struggle
to reject unsafe working conditions, it is not surprising that they may not advocate for improved
living conditions, access to amenities and services, and adequate rest time. While prior research
has focused on the most explicit, policy-level forms of exclusion, namely, deportability, as a
mechanism of expulsion and control (Basok et al., 2014), our research illustrates that workers are
forced into a survival mode that maintains their sense of alienation from the wider community.
Third, through stories of “nothing but a worker,” workers’ sense of dignity, worth, and identity was
often threatened by workplace dynamics. Doubling as their place of residence, workers often felt
uniformly defined as “workers” and valued only for their contribution to their workplace. This often
decreased workers’ spirits, contributing to low morale and a greater sense of isolation.
Prior research indicates that both the mental and physical health of TMAWs is below national
standards. This disparity has been attributed to the repetitive nature of tasks, inseparability of
workplace and home, isolation, long work hours, restricted leisure time, stress related to high
variation in income and temporary nature of work, and home-sickness (Cross et al., 2008; Foster
and Taylor, 2013; Virtanen et al., 2005). Our research elaborates on the consequences of the
intricate relationship between work and home, indicating that workers may be more vulnerable to
an employer’s disrespectful behavior, or distance, because of their limited social ties in the
community. In addition to threatening their sense of dignity, these interpersonal encounters may be
an articulation of what others have called “partial citizenship,” incomplete entitlements to the status
afforded to citizens along with the introduction of new vulnerabilities and exclusions that delineate
citizens from noncitizens (Vosko, 2010). Our research suggests that this enforced precarity may
directly translate into the shaping of social relations as much as civil or political rights.
Yet, finally, stories of “one family” and “for those who come next,” indicated that workers’ were
active in building a sense of community and planning toward the future. Camaraderie and
emotional support between workers were key resources for many of them in managing stress
and isolation in their daily life. In their research with migrant agricultural workers, Rogaly (2009)
described laborers as exerting reluctant agency, fueled by a motivation to support their families
left behind. Further, despite dominant narratives that depict workers as predominantly objects of
capital, workers affect agency and influence in the immediate sense upon their lived
environments. The men in this study reported opportunities to celebrate their culture, learn about
one another, and support one another in regards to workplace threats and challenges.
Nonetheless, various tensions and hierarchies did form within the workplace, limiting
opportunities for workers to support one another.
Notably, in this region a small group of volunteers provided the only outside support for TMAWs.
Yet, workers themselves noted the limited capacity and support to sustain volunteers. Further,
as noted elsewhere (Foster and Taylor, 2013; Hennebry, 2014), volunteer efforts are not sufficient
to address the barriers and challenges TMAWs face.

VOL. 14 NO. 2 2018 j INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF MIGRATION, HEALTH AND SOCIAL CARE j PAGE 217
 Conclusion and implications
Our research in the interior of rural BC confirmed some of the same health and social challenges
faced by migrant workers in other parts of Canada and the USA. Yet, our research uncovered
experiences of migrant workers as they are uniquely experienced in a rural Western Canadian
setting in which access to amenities and support networks are particularly lacking. Our findings:
exclusion and discrimination captured in stories of always on the outside; poor working and living
conditions through accounts of struggling for the basics; lack of recognition of one’s humanity, or
lacking chances to feel connected to the community in nothing but a worker and the role of
support between workers, volunteers, and hope for the future in narratives of one family and for
those who come next revealed constraints and some points of resistance toward building a
sense of belonging for workers.
Our focus on day-to-day encounters may also provide insight into wider concepts that are typically
applied to legal or macro-level processes. For instance, experiences of “nothing but a worker,” the
unmet expectation of social connection to one of mere production/wage transaction constrained
workers’ possibilities to build a sense of belonging, yet it also may be a social vehicle to enforce
“partial citizenship” (Vosko, 2010) status and precarity. Limited access to basic services, or
experiences of “struggling for the basics,” maintains workers in a survival state that constrained
opportunities to build a sense of belonging. Yet, this theme also can help expand our understanding
of structural exclusion among TMAWs beyond explicit acts of exclusion, to include acts of omission
that require workers to focus their energy on strategies to meet their immediate needs.
Ultimately, our findings reinforce the need for reform of current temporary migrant agricultural
policies to address the precarious conditions faced by workers. These conditions clearly pose
barriers to workers’ participation and inclusion in the wider community and limit their wellbeing.
Public service agencies must expand their mandate to account for the unique challenges faced
by this group, and the particular barriers that TMAWs will face in accessing these supports. Public
transportation, primary care, housing inspectors, and recreational programming may require
increased flexibility and creative outreach efforts to ameliorate the factors that lead to workers’
social segregation and vulnerability. Community partners and scholars, in turn, must help catalyze
linkages between migrant workers and permanent residents because it is the perpetual exclusion
of workers from the very definition of community that ensures their isolation.

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Corresponding author
Susana Caxaj can be contacted at: susana.caxaj@ubc.ca

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