I Came Here to Pick Strawberries
I came here to pick strawberries,
Leaving a hard life in my beloved land of Morocco,
Hopes and dreams of a better life, of a better place,
Shattered, broken—my dreams, my life, my dignity, my heart.
I ran away from poverty, from problems,
I ran head on into poverty, into problems,
Hopes and dreams of a better life, of a better place,
Shattered, broken—my dreams, my life, my dignity, my heart.
I struggled to cross the border into a new land,
With papers and visa for only three months,
By foot, taxi, boat, bus, I journeyed,
I arrived at my destination—weary and dreamy-eyed.
Every day, I broke my back picking strawberries in the fields,
In the heat—long hours, long days, long weeks, long months,
Every day, I broke my back side-by-side with other women,
Women with the same story of hopes and dreams of a better life, a better place.
After just a few months, I didn’t want to leave,
I didn’t want to return to my hard life in my beloved land of Morocco,
Hopes and dreams of a better life, of a better place,
Shattered, broken—my dreams, my life, my dignity, my heart.
A man from my country rescued me from the fields,
Rescued me and the other women from the land of strawberries,
The man promised us hopes and dreams of a better life, of a better place,
Dreamy-eyed, we followed the man into another land.
This was no land of strawberries, this land was dark, sad, scary, and evil,
A land of slavery it was, with no rescue, no freedom, no better life, no better place,
Controlled by others, terrified, locked alone in a dark room,
Shattered, broken—my dreams, my life, my dignity, my heart.
“Go out, go down the street, go with the men, go into their beds,
Bring back money to me to pay for your dark room with no lights,
Bring back money to me to pay for your scrap of food you cannot eat,”
I have no appetite for food, no sleep, no peace, no dream.
“Drink, smoke until you are numb and feel no more,
Drink, smoke until you forget the dark, sad, scary, evil land,
Drink, smoke until you no longer know who you are,
Drink, smoke until you no longer want to leave the land of slavery.”
Where are my fields of strawberries now?
Where are my dreams and hopes now?
Where are the women from my land who bent down beside me?
Where is my beloved land of Morocco?
I can never return to my fields of strawberries.
I can never return to my beloved land and family.
I can never leave this dark, sad, scary, evil land of slavery.
I can never find a better life, a better place.
Fear grips my heart as I sit in my dark room without lights,
Men and women enter the house, they terrify me,
They took my friend, she never returns,
Shattered, broken—my dreams, my life, my dignity, my heart.
One day, a knock at the door, a light dawned,
Light entered the darkness of my scary land,
Two women promised me hopes and dreams of a better life, a better place,
I took their hands, was it to rescue me or to take me to another land of slavery?
Not knowing who they were or where I was going, I trusted, I risked,
Any other land of slavery would be better than my dark, sad, scary, and evil land,
Hopes and dreams of a better life, a better place, they rescued me,
I entered a land of freedom, refuge, joy, love, and peace.
My new land is like the land of strawberry fields,
Bright scarlet and dark green colors of life, love, and joy,
Women from other lands sit beside me now, women with the same story,
Restored hopes and dreams of a better life, a better place.
I came here to pick strawberries.