Deciding to learn more about
migrants, I visited a government camp near my home. Walking into the Weedpatch
Camp I realized that I was the odd one out, the wealthy man at a camp for the
poor. If it had been the opposite, if I had been the poor man walking among a
club for the rich and famous, I couldn’t imagine how badly I would have been
treated. I could have been beaten, thrown out, ridiculed, or worse, killed. All
that just for being poor. Yet, the poor do just the opposite. They welcome the
odd man out, with quiet salutations and kind smiles.
I finally began to tire of just
walking around, so I decided to talk with some of the camps residents. I went
up to a strong young man, with dark brown eyes. His name, I later learned, was
Tom Joad. I asked if would be willing to tell me about his family,
and his journey that brought him to this camp. He was guarded and cautious,
unsure if I was to be trusted. After talking to me for a few minutes he decided
he could, and opened up. He took me to meet his family.
As we approached the Joad family
and their home at the camp, I immediately noticed their dilapidated jalopy. I
wondered how they all must fit in there, and how they had managed to keep such
a car in working condition. It must take a lot of work.
I introduced myself to the Joad
family. Tom introduced me to everyone, his father, mother, uncle, sister,
brother, and his two youngest siblings. They were all well groomed, but their
clothes were well worn, and far from new. They all looked very tired as well.
I asked them why they left their home, and Tom
answered saying there was nothing left for them there. Their land had been
taken by the men who rode tractors and worked for the bank. It left them with
no land to farm, and no other work there. “We can’t look after the fambly
without no money.”
I then asked them what their
journey has been like so far. This time Tom’s father answered. “Well, it wasn’t
no easy thing,” he began. He then told me about how after they were forced off
their land, they saw a handbill advertising good work in California. So they
packed up the family and began making their way there. Tom’s mother
interjected, “First day on the road, an’ we los’ our Grandpa. Since then we
los’ Grandma, our oldes’ son, and our son in law. We ain’t no proper fambly
now.” I saw a tear slide down her cheek.
I couldn’t imagine such a thing happening. Four family members were lost within
a matter of weeks.
Tom’s father continued talking
about how they had spent their nights camping roadside in ditches and near
garbage dumps. He told me that crossing the desert was one of the hardest
parts. They had nearly run out of money before getting to California, and none
of them had been properly fed in a while. The night before reaching Weedpatch
camp, they had parked in a Hooverville. He said the folks there were cold, and
before nightfall a deputy had come to threaten all the people there. They had
left as soon as they could. Tom’s mother picked up where her husband had left
off telling me about reaching the camp, and how they were treated decently here,
which was such a change from the rest of their journey.
After reaching the camp Tom had had
work for a few days, but no one else in the family had found any work yet. From
the handbill they had seen, they had been under the impression that there was
plenty of work in California and that they would have no problem finding
some. They were awakened to a harsh
reality once they got here. They soon realized that work was scarce.
I asked my final question: what
were they hoping to achieve California? Tom answered, by saying they would
really love to settle down. His mother wants to own a white house. They also
want to have a home before his sister gave birth to the baby.
After meeting the Joad family, I
couldn’t help but think how much they have suffered so far. All they want is to
settle down, yet it will be nearly impossible for them in the world we live in
today.
