By Elizabeth Wynne Johnson
Northwest News Network
There’s a saying: “The hands that do the work are hidden.” That’s increasingly true in the posh mountain resorts of the Northwest, where soaring prices and long commutes are putting ever more distance between the workers and the players.
Twenty-one year old Efrain Patlan works for a Sun Valley company that salvages building materials from tear down and renovation projects. Today’s haul includes two pairs of dramatic, nine-foot tall wood-framed glass entry doors.
All the activity means a healthy appetite for labor, much of it from Mexico and Peru. Some are legal, many aren’t. The migrants do construction jobs, clean the hotel rooms, work behind the scenes in restaurant kitchens.
This salvage operation is Efrain’s primary full-time job. Here in the Wood River Valley, wages are good. This job pays $17 an hour. But with cost of living in a resort town, that’s nowhere near enough to get by. So like many here, Efrain works multiple jobs.
“Sometimes I work Monday to Monday,” he says. “Sometimes I clean snow, break ice, move furniture around… all kinds. The only thing is, you gonna have to work.”
One job pays the rent, the others help cover the rest: from cell phone to medical bills, to repair bills to keep his old car running. As expensive as it is here, it’s better than what he left behind in Mexico, because here there’s money to be made.
Efrain made the four-day drive to Idaho when he was 14. His home, Lamanga de Valle de San Tiago is more a loose cluster of ranches than an actual town.
“They have one, two, three, four, five streets. That’s it,” he says.
He says when he left, there were maybe 400 people there. Now he says it’s down to fewer than 200. Most of those who left are right here in Idaho. They follow family and neighbors in a one-way migration to a different life, one that starts with nothing.
Today, home is a comfortable townhouse-style condo in Hailey, Idaho. Efrain gets a break on the $900 a month rent for doing odd jobs around the complex. It’s furnished with high-end castoffs that he gets for a good price because of his job doing renovation salvage: couches and crystal lamps. He watches Discover Channel in Espanol on a big-screen TV he got for $100.
Efrain is the exception rather than the rule. The dearth of affordable housing for workers means most either cram together in trailers, or commute from as much as two hours away.
For many, the arrangement is temporary. It’s what some locals here refer to derisively as “the Mexican retirement plan.” Efrain himself is building a house in Valle de San Tiago.
The irony? “It’s like here. I come here and I go to ask for work. I go there and the people come to me, ask me for work.”
Working hard to build a home he’ll hardly ever see? Turns out Efrain does have something in common with his wealthy American bosses.
He came thinking this would be temporary for him. But now he’s determined to do his climbing here. He considers himself no longer purely ‘Mexican,’ not quite ‘American’ either.
“I’m like half and half. Half my heart is here and half of my heart is there. To live here is probably more possible than to go back to Mexico,” he says.
With no end in sight to the demand for their labor, the number of ‘hidden hands’ is certainly growing and becoming a permanent part of life in this mountain valley. One reason Efrain’s likely to stick around: now he has a wife and a nine-month old baby boy.