The proposal defines “illegal alien” and “human smuggling,” noting that people being transported, or harbored, are, under the bill’s terminology, illegal aliens. Smugglers either knowingly transport these individuals into West Virginia or transport and harbor those already in West Virginia.
Human traffickers may face new penalties for smuggling humans into West Virginia if a bill on third reading in the House of Delegates Monday, House Bill 5031, becomes law.
The proposal defines “illegal alien” and “human smuggling,” noting that people being transported, or harbored, are, under the bill’s terminology, illegal aliens. Smugglers either knowingly transport these individuals into West Virginia or transport and harbor those already in West Virginia.
Human smuggling does not include any person hired by another state who transports an undocumented immigrant through West Virginia, so long as that person will not remain in West Virginia.
The bill also states that victimized undocumented workers are not eligible for restitution.
House Democrats like Del. Joey Garcia, D-Marion, opposed the bill, concerned over unfair victim treatment, and unintended consequences for a possible Good Samaritan.
“We’re talking about the difference between a Good Samaritan situation,” Garcia said. “Somebody gives somebody a ride, when they know that that person might be an illegal immigrant, versus when somebody puts another person in a situation for sexual exploitation, for other types of damages that they can do to hurt that person. And that penalty is going to be exactly the same in each situation. And that’s just a matter of fundamental unfairness right there.”
Del. Mark Zatezalo, R-Hancock, was among the House Republican supermajority that supported the bill they said helps combat a national immigration crisis.
“It’s very important for people to understand that the smuggling of illegal aliens, such as what’s happening along the border, in certain instances, is nothing less than the reintroduction of slavery to the United States,” Zatezalo said. “People basically are indentured servants who come here and they have to give their money to whoever their smugglers are. I don’t think this country can afford that. I don’t think we need to go back to those days. God knows we’ve had enough trouble with that. It’s something that I feel very strongly about. And I wish when we vote on this bill, we all think about that.”
Under the bill’s penalties, someone who smuggles an adult, or assists in smuggling an adult, is guilty of a felony. upon conviction they would be sentenced to 3-15 years, and fined up to $200,000, or both. For a minor, the penalties run 5-20 years, with fines up to $300,000, or both.
HB 5031, the human trafficking bill, passed 83-13 and now goes to the Senate.
Moorefield, West Virginia, is home to about 3,300 people — about one in 10 are immigrants. That includes a small community from Eritrea and Ethiopia. Many of them work at the chicken processing plant in town, Pilgrim’s Pride. The hours there are long and don’t leave much time for socializing. Still, members of that East African community continue to practice a tradition they’ve brought from home: the coffee ceremony. Folkways reporter Clara Haizlett brings us this story, with help from former West Virginia state folklorist Emily Hilliard.
Trihas Kefele, a native of Eritrea, is one of the many immigrants who live in Moorefield, West Virginia and work at Pilgrim’s Pride, a chicken processing plant in the small town. Although Moorefield, West Virginia has just about 3,300 residents, around one in 10 are immigrants—including Kefele’s small community from Ethiopia and Eritrea.
Due to long shifts at the factory, members of the community don’t have much time for socializing. But in their free time, they continue to practice a ritual that is custom to their region of East Africa—the traditional coffee ceremony.
On a Sunday—Kefele’s day off—she invited a group of friends and family to a coffee ceremony at her home. Incense and candles perfumed her small apartment, along with the smell of roasting coffee beans.
Courtesy Emily Hilliard
Spices used to prepare coffee.
Kefele sat apart from the guests at a low table that was used to prepare the coffee, stirring the green coffee beans on a single-burner electric stove. She wore a floral dress and a wooden cross around her neck.
On the floor beneath her was a green mat, decorated with strips of plastic that look like grass.
“It just makes it look special, like you’re welcoming the guests,” said Kelefe’s teenage son, Finan, translating for his mom.
Three paper plates were lined up on the mat, each filled with a different colorful snack. On another table, fruit, homemade bread, and chilled drinks were artfully arranged. The ritual obviously took time to prepare, with each detail carefully arranged in anticipation of the guests’ arrival.
Women typically perform the ceremony, which can take up to two hours and involves multiple steps—from roasting the raw beans to serving fresh coffee individually to each guest.
Courtesy Emily Hilliard
Trihas Kefele Pours Coffee For Guests.
The coffee ceremony isn’t just for special occasions. Among family and friends, it’s a common pastime that involves sharing coffee and food, listening to music, and just enjoying each other’s company.
“You cannot just make coffee by yourself,” said Azeb Mekonnen, a guest originally from Ethiopia. “You call people. That’s how it’s fun.”
Mekonnen explained that the tradition is passed down by family matriarchs.
“My mom learned it from my grandmother and my grandmother learned it from her mom,” she said.
A couple of years ago, Kefele began teaching her 14-year-old daughter, Nebiat, how to make coffee, even though she’s lived most of her life in the U.S.
“I just watched my mom do it and I just learned from it,” Nebiat said.
Now, every evening, Nebiat makes coffee for her parents before they work the night shift at Pilgrim’s.
Courtesy Emily Hilliard
Cups and Plates Used in Coffee Ceremony.
The poultry plant is what brought Kefele and her family to West Virginia. Before coming to Moorefield, they lived in a rural part of Eritrea, farming vegetables. More than 10 years ago, they decided to leave their home and immigrate to the United States.
“We wanted to have a better life, better freedom and my dad was the first one to come here,” said Kefele’s son, Finan.
Kefele stayed behind with their children until her husband got settled. Their migration process was long and difficult. But after five years of separation, the family was reunited in the U.S. Now they’re all in Moorefield.
“It’s good and free… and it’s also free of violence,” said Kefele. “It’s always safe here.”
Kefele and her husband both work at Pilgrim’s Pride. Her job is to cut and debone chickens. She works long hours and it’s hard work—even harder, she says because of the language barrier. She mainly speaks Tigrinya.
“Whenever you go to work, you struggle with English a lot,” said Kefele as her son translated. “Even out of work, out of your house, you go somewhere, you struggle.”
Kefele hopes that learning English will make her life in Moorefield easier. So after each night shift, she comes home, showers, and goes directly to a 9 a.m. English class at an adult learning center.
It’s hard to make friends with native English speakers, she said, but the classes offer a chance to build community with immigrants from other parts of the world who are also learning English. They’ve even done coffee ceremonies together as a class.
“Everybody that goes in that class is her friend right now, ” said Finan.
Courtesy Emily Hilliard
Guests Socializing at Coffee Ceremony
The coffee ceremony also plays an important part in maintaining social ties within their East African community in Moorefield, where Mekonnen said there aren’t many outlets for leisure activities.
Mekonnen, who worked for eight years at the Pilgrim’s plant, said her life in Moorefield has primarily consisted of work, spending time with family, and more work. There’s not much else to do.
“Maybe you go Walmart; where can you go?” she said. “Maybe you go somewhere in Ponderosa or somewhere here, you know?”
For Kefele, who comes from a small village in Eritrea, rural life hasn’t been such a big adjustment. But Mekonnen is from Addis Ababa, the Ethiopian capital, and lived in Atlanta, Georgia, before coming to Moorefield.
When Mekonnen gets the chance, she goes over the mountain to cities in Virginia like Winchester and Harrisonburg, where she can find ingredients from East Africa, like green coffee beans. She said the coffee ceremony helps alleviate some of the tedium of her life here.
“Like get together like this and make coffee—I love that,” Mekonnen said.
Mekonnen often hosts her own coffee ceremonies, but that Sunday she was a guest – sharing snacks, coffee and conversation at Kefele’s home in downtown Moorefield.
After roasting the beans and brewing the coffee, Kefele moved around the room with her coffee pot, serving each guest. She poured the coffee from up high into little espresso-like cups.
The coffee was strong and sweet. It tasted of cardamom, cinnamon, and ginger, which Kefele ground and stirred together with the beans.
As Mekonnen sipped her coffee, she explained the coffee ceremony’s significance in her community in Moorefield.
“With ceremonies you think you are back there still. Your mind go back there,” she said. “So we feel like we are back home.”
On Monday, Kefele and most of her guests would be back at work at the chicken plant. But for that hour or two, her living room was full of guests and conversation, fueled by coffee and the warmth of hospitality.
This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia and the Folklife Program of the West Virginia Humanities Council. The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.
U.S. immigration policies are very much in the spotlight recently with reports on conditions at some of the southern border detention camps and fresh…
U.S. immigration policies are very much in the spotlight recently with reports on conditions at some of the southern border detention camps and fresh concerns about children being held apart from their parents.
Recently, Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez called these facilities “concentration camps” and was swiftly rebuked by people on the right and left. To be clear, the U.S. government holds immigrants — who have entered the country illegally — while they’re being processed. The question is: what do we call these places? Are they Detention centers — as the government refers to them? Detainment camps? Is Ocasio-Cortez misinformed and perhaps, hyperbolic when she injects a loaded term like “concentration camp” into the discussion?
To get a better perspective on this, Trey thought it’d be a good time to check in with author Andrea Pitzer about her book, One Long Night: A Global History of Concentration Camps.
Listen to an extended version of Trey’s interview with Andrea Pitzer:
A memoir called “I Am a Dirty Immigrant” is the story of one man’s journey from the West Indies to West Virginia. Anderson Charles grew up in a tightly knit community in Grenada, and in 1986, moved to Kentucky to play basketball and attend college.
Back home, neighbors often pitch in to help raise each other’s kids and take care of people when they’re sick. And though he grew to love his newly adopted home of Appalachia, he said he initially had a difficult time finding that same feeling of community. The title of his book “I am a Dirty Immigrant” comes out of an experience he had, when coworkers at a telemarketing service labeled him a “dirty immigrant.” When he decided to write his story, he said he hoped it would highlight the commonalities between his life and of those in his new home of Appalachia.
“The reason why we have conflict with each other is because we don’t know each other,” said Charles. “We just know what everybody tells us about each other.”
Anderson Charles was born on the British-ruled island of Grenada, which gained independence from Great Britain in 1974. Today, Grenada is the smallest independent country in the Western Hemisphere. Nearly half the residents identify themselves as Roman Catholics, but it was a protestant minister who convinced the 7-foot Grenadian to accept a full basketball scholarship at the Baptist-affiliated Cumberland College in Whitley County, Kentucky.
“I wasn’t searchin’ for freedom. I wasn’t searchin’ for equality and all of that stuff. We had that there already,” Charles said.
He wasn’t ready for the many changes awaiting him when he arrived in Appalachia. “I landed in Kentucky and it was freezin’, I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t have a jacket. I had one thin Caribbean-style shirt, so I was freezin’!”
A vegetarian accustomed to eating yams and other roots, Anderson was not prepared for American fast food. “I would get sick all the time, because my body wasn’t used to that processed food. Most of the stuff I eat I cook, improvise with Caribbean recipes, and stuff, and put together.”
Then he had to come to terms with American slang. “Where I’m from, it’s like 86 percent African origin, so the slang is universal or national. There wasn’t any difference in the slangs and the stuff that we used, so coming to America, I thought, it’s Americans, they all speak the same. No, they don’t,” said Charles.
He was also surprised to see American poverty.
“Some people expect the streets to be paved in gold, because we get the stuff about how good everything is here.”
But he started to see similarities between the people of Appalachia and his own community back home in Grenada. “I started realizing, well, they’re not that different. They want to work hard, have a good livin’ and live a normal, peaceful life. But here, they’re all workin’ from paycheck to paycheck just like me, just like we were in the islands.”
Credit Russ Barbour/ WVPB
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The realities of living in a third-world country force communities to work together in order to survive, Charles said.
“I was raised in a village, so we had that village atmosphere. If you have to go to work, you don’t have to go get somebody to babysit, you tell a neighbor [to] watch your kids. If somebody’s sick, we go in and take care of them. If somebody doesn’t have food, we would cook and bring food to the house.”
If you want to travel, he recommends visiting places that are less traveled, to get a richer experience of real life in a different country. “Go talk to the villagers. Because that’s how you’re gonna know people. Don’t go to a big city. Don’t go to Paris; that’ll be like goin’ to New York. Talk to the people who live the culture and then listen to them, and you’re gonna realize that you’re not that different. We’re not that different.”
With his book, “I Am a Dirty Immigrant,” Charles brings readers face-to-face with the clashes of culture common in today’s ever-transitioning world.
Credit courtesy Anderson Charles
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Anderson Charles when he first moved to Kentucky in the 1980s
“I always laugh at people when they think the immigration issue is just a big thing here. It’s all over the world, ’cause everybody’s lookin’ for a safer place to be.”
After a year at Cumberland College, Anderson married and moved to New York. He later relocated his family to Huntington, West Virginia, where he earned a degree in sociology at Marshall University in 2002.
This story is part of an episode of Inside Appalachia that explores why we need community and collaboration to thrive.
