week, or seventy-five cents an h our I made $10.49 an hour, David tells him, and Alejandro, who has maintained a gelid blankness until now, grimaces. "Dollars or pesos? he asks Dollars, David says. "We thought they were getting a pretty good deal off our labor, but here! He sits back, puts his hands on his knees and, in English, exclaims, Fuckin'A! They do a little math together. According to what David's union told him, Breed charge about ten dollars for each wheel it sells to automakers a Breed worker in that case. whether American or Mexican, makes $200 worth of product an hour. So David got five percent of the value of each wheel he made. Alejandro gets one half of one percent. That simple difference- to say nothing of freedom from effective unions, OSHA and the Environmental Protection Agency-is why companies move jobs to Mexico Another thing Alejandro didnt know is that his employer recently filed for bankruptcy. Not even t employees rumor mill picked that one up, he says We rise to say our goodbyes to Alejandro and his father. As we do, David leans over and takes Jose Angel by the arm Somos hermanos en la lucha, he says, looking deep into the startled man's eyes. We are brothers in the struggle. The older man grasps Davids hand and shakes it warmly Hermanos, he says The moment surprises everyone. David fumbles with his glasses, then punches his arms into his nylon Steelers jacket, zips up and says something about needing to buy silver earrings for Alyssa before we cross the border Then, as were leaving, he turns back for a moment to alejandro, and they stand foreheads almost touching, talking quietly. a snatch of their conversation makes its way across the room They re like the ramones, David says, doing ska One shouldn t judge the entire maquiladora program by those in Matamoros and valle Hermoso, says Martha Tovar, president of Solunet: Informex, an El Paso, Texas, firm that does market research for companies that do business with the maquiladoras. Matamoros is a very troubled place for maquiladoras, perhaps because there is lots of union activity there There may someday be even more. Unions worldwide used to being their meetings by singing the Internationale, the workers' anthem of global solidarity. Nowadays, it is capital that sings that tune Fort Wayne and valle Hermoso find themselves bound to each other by way of a Florida corporation named Breed and it s partners in Berlin, which make products in Mexico and Indiana but also in Spain, Finland and Hungary, for clients in Michigan, Italy and Tokyo, so they can repay lenders in North Carolina and shareholders everywhere. Breed's president, Charles J. Speranzella Jr, earnedweek, or seventy-five cents an h our. “I made $10.49 an hour,” David tells him, and Alejandro, who has maintained a gelid blankness until now, grimaces. “Dollars or pesos?” he asks. “Dollars,” David says. “We thought they were getting a pretty good deal off our labor, but here!” He sits back, puts his hands on his knees and, in English, exclaims, “Fuckin’ A!” They do a little math together. According to what David’s union told him, Breed charge about ten dollars for each wheel it sells to automakers. A Breed worker, in that case, whether American or Mexican, makes $200 worth of product an hour. So David got five percent of the value of each wheel he made. Alejandro gets one half of one percent. That simple difference – to say nothing of freedom from effective unions, OSHA and the Environmental Protection Agency – is why companies move jobs to Mexico. Another thing Alejandro didn’t know is that his employer recently filed for bankruptcy. Not even the employees’ rumor mill picked that one up, he says. We rise to say our goodbyes to Alejandro and his father. As we do, David leans over and takes José Angel by the arm. “Somos hermanos en la lucha,” he says, looking deep into the startled man’s eyes. We are brothers in the struggle. The older man grasps David’s hand and shakes it warmly. “Hermanos,” he says. The moment surprises everyone. David fumbles with his glasses, then punches his arms into his nylon Steelers jacket, zips up and says something about needing to buy silver earrings for Alyssa before we cross the border. Then, as we’re leaving, he turns back for a moment to Alejandro, and they stand, foreheads almost touching, talking quietly. A snatch of their conversation makes its way across the room. “They’re like the Ramones,” David says, “doing ska.” ********************* One shouldn’t judge the entire maquiladora program by those in Matamoros and Valle Hermoso, says Martha Tovar, president of Solunet: Informex, an El Paso, Texas, firm that does market research for companies that do business with the maquiladoras. “Matamoros is a very troubled place for maquiladoras, perhaps because there is lots of union activity there.” There may someday be even more. Unions worldwide used to being their meetings by singing the Internationale, the workers’ anthem of global solidarity. Nowadays, it is capital that sings that tune. Fort Wayne and Valle Hermoso find themselves bound to each other by way of a Florida corporation named Breed and it s partners in Berlin, which make products in Mexico and Indiana but also in Spain, Finland and Hungary, for clients in Michigan, Italy and Tokyo, so they can repay lenders in North Carolina and shareholders everywhere. Breed’s president, Charles J. Speranzella Jr., earned