“This area is full of Peruvians. They are everywhere, these dirty Indians that stand on the street all day. They lean on our shop windows and keep the clients away from our stores. It would be better if they went back to their country and stopped coming to take away our jobs,” comments a salesclerk at a bookstore on central Santiago’s Cathedral Street. His opinion is shared by many Chileans who work in or pass through this sector of the city, now known as “Little Lima” because of its large number of businesses that cater to the new wave of Peruvian immigrants in Chile.
The last Chilean census in 1992 revealed that 7,500 Peruvians were then living in that country. Now, less than a decade later, the Department of Immigration estimates that approximately 60,000 Peruvian immigrants reside in Chile. Behind this explosive increase lies a new social reality that has been developing alongside Chilean xenophobia. As these immigrants, under precarious economic conditions, struggle for a better future, the figure of the “nana peruana’’ has emerged as the symbol of the Peruvian community in Chile.
Twenty-three-year-old Ana Vázquez, is roaming the streets of Santiago between Plaza de Armas and Catedral Street with two of her friends. She left a teacher-training course in Lima and moved to Chile three years ago, in search of better economic opportunities. She hoped to be able to return to Peru in a few months and had left her two children in the care of her mother. But none of her hopes have been realized: “When I had just arrived in Chile, I found a job as a domestic worker with a family in Las Condes,” a wealthy neighborhood of Santiago. “I had been recommended for the job and I was supposed to get paid approximately $200 per month, which at the beginning, I did. But shortly after, the family got behind in paying my wages, paying me $80 per month, or sometimes nothing. They made me work on my day off, and later even restricted my food. They never gave me a contract and when I would complain, they called me ungrateful and lazy. I tolerated it for a year and then I decided to leave. When I asked for the money they owed me, they threw me out with nothing. They tried to keep my passport and even threatened to call the police and tell them I was a thief. I was very scared, so I just left.” Ana’s friends took her in and today they share a room in an old building in western Santiago.
Ana had met her friends on one of her first Sunday outings to the Plaza de Armas. Since the mid-1990s, when the presence of Peruvian immigrants in Chile became visible and began to be the subject of public comment, the Plaza de Armas has been the obligatory destination for incoming Peruvians. The new immigrants go there in search of compatriots with whom to share their troubles in the country to which they reluctantly came to escape the dire economic situation in Peru. From the outside, Chile seemed stable and prosperous. From the inside, Chile showed a much harsher face. In talking with Peruvians in the area, Ana’s experience is not uncommon.
According to Rodolfo Noriega, a lawyer with the Peruvian Refugee Committee in Chile, “Most of the cases we get are cases of labor abuse involving Peruvian domestic workers; these abuses are easily perpetrated due to the precarious situation of the majority of immigrants.”[1] The organization originated in 1998 to defend the rights of these mostly undocumented immigrants. “In fact, the last woman I helped this morning had worked for a month in a private home and got fired without getting a cent,” continues Noriega. “There are worse cases of sexual abuse or of withholding their documents. But I don’t want to say that it is a huge problem. Of the Peruvians that come to Chile, thousands are well received, but there are hundreds who suffer these problems, something that simply should not occur.”
Although the majority of the Peruvian immigrants are employed as domestic workers—the women known as “nanas” in Chile, the men as gardeners or guards for wealthy homes—with time they have diversified their occupations. Ana has worked as a waitress and a salesperson sporadically, but she has not been able to maintain a steady job—she is always fired after a couple of months because the employers want to avoid having to give her a contract. Chilean labor law dictates that workers must be put under contract after three months at a company.
Like the majority of her compatriots, Ana refuses to return to Peru, and she keeps the reality of her situation from her family “because I do not want to go back empty-handed and I don’t want to make them worry.” She persists in her goal because, after all, the money she earns—most of which she sends to her children—is more than she would make in Peru. That is why she is once again wandering around Catedral Street and Plaza de Armas: Every Peruvian knows that when someone is looking to hire them, that is where they go.
For these same reasons, along the street named for the presence of the country’s main Catholic church, between the streets Bandera and Puente, “Little Lima” has emerged. Over the last three years, businesses have opened that cater to Peruvian immigrants, such as telephone calling centers and Peruvian restaurants.
From the beginning, many Chileans have viewed this new and explosive process of migration with suspicion. A large sector of society has always shown feelings of superiority to and rejection of Peruvian, Ecuadorian and Bolivian people. In the past few years, discriminatory acts against this wave of immigrants from the Andean countries have been increasing, driven, in part, by the economic crisis that has battered Chile since 1999. Increased unemployment, in particular, has led the poorest sectors to feel threatened by the cheaper labor that immigrant workers are willing to offer. As Noriega points out, in Chile’s flexible labor market, Chilean workers suffer the same employment insecurity as immigrant workers. “Imagine, in a country where the majority of Chilean workers work without a contract, that a foreigner obtains a written and signed contract with a clause that requires the employer to pay for airfare or bus fare for the employee and his/her family to return to their country… that is practically impossible to get,” says the lawyer.
The increasing xenophobia was apparent last March 27, when after the World Cup qualifying victory of the Peruvian national soccer team over Chile, many Peruvians who were in the center of the city were verbally and even physically accosted by angry Chilean fans. The following day, Minister of the Interior José Miguel Insulza, called on citizens to “maintain a correct attitude towards Peruvian residents in the country.”[2] His statement reflects how Peruvian immigration has become part of the public agenda, a fact that is unfortunately marked by racism and discrimination.
Chile presents a particular duality when it comes to its attitude toward foreigners: The immigration of European whites has always been positively regarded, whereas the immigration of Latin Americans, specifically from countries with a large indigenous population, has been feared and rejected. “As Chileans we reject mestizaje because we do not recognize ourselves as mestizos, we see ourselves as white,” notes sociologist Tomás Moulian.[3] He attributes this to the country’s cultural identity having been constructed on the basis of the rejection of the indigenous population. “Unlike other Latin American countries, the indigenous population of Chile was not integrated into the socio-political construction of the new nation after the Spanish conquest, and this transformed the indigenous question into a continual problem throughout the centuries.”
“In Chile,” continues Moulian, “the unity of the leading class was achieved much earlier than in other countries and the struggle with the Mapuches (the main original ethnic group of the country) lasted for centuries. Even if life on the frontier wasn’t characterized by perpetual war, there was and continues to be a problem with the indigenous population. So the Peruvians are not only rejected for being foreign, a fact that is rooted in xenophobia, but also for being mestizo. We see in Peruvians our own indigenous heritage. Not only that, they are proud of their origins, while we are ashamed. Following that logic, Germans, Croatians and Hungarians that have come to this country have been well received and are admired by most people.”
“Since we are dreaming of whiteness we reject darker skin. This has to do with the northern hemisphere’s Western superiority complex, which sees itself as the center of the world and views dark people as barbarians. It has to do with the supremacy of the white part of Europe over its dark part.” This explains why European communities are received so well, while immigrants from other places, such as Palestinians and Koreans—two communities that have a strong presence in Chile—are also discriminated against. The former are misnamed “Turks,” while the latter are generically labelled “chinos.” These racist attitudes, however, are not comparable to what the Peruvian people in Chile suffer.
For the sociologist Sergio Valdes, another reason behind Chileans’ racism towards Peruvians has to do with Chileans’ “mental structure of intolerance. This tendency is a product of a strong authoritarianism in the way people are socialized. That intolerance gets expressed in many ways: One of them is in racism towards Peruvians.” Valdes also believes that Chileans do not see themselves as mestizos “but feel more European, so they are alienated by everything that reminds them of their indigenous origins.”[4]
Other factors trigger this chauvinism. The popular sectors’ fear of labor displacement is one of them. “The Chilean lower classes harbor strong negative feelings towards Peruvian immigrants. I have seen a Chilean mestizo calling a Peruvian a ‘damn cholo.’ One must also not forget that the War of the Pacific [late nineteenth century war in which Chile occupied and defeated Peru and Bolivia] is still a factor because Chileans suspect that [Peruvians] don’t like us very much,” says Tomás Moulian.
“I remember that on my first job in Chile, my co-workers would tease me and say ‘Peruvian, did you come to take the Huáscar?’ (an allusion to the famous Peruvian ship that was sunk during the War of the Pacific). Or they would say, ‘So many Peruvians are in Chile. It’s incredible how they come to take away our jobs,’” remembers Mario Collantes, a 45-year-old immigrant from Trujillo with a background in journalism and history. Mario has been in Chile for eight months and lives in a small rented room in Santiago’s center. He is currently the manager of a Peruvian restaurant called “Victoria,” but is trying to start a commercial sign business, something he was doing in Peru until the economic crisis there impelled him to move to Chile.
“The economic situation there is truly deplorable, I had a good job, but as things are now, I opted for leaving my wife and children and trying my luck in Chile. One comes here under the illusion that one can do economically better, just like Chileans who go to Europe or to Argentina. And they certainly would like to be treated well when they get there, not like the way many here treat us,” says Mario, who has also had to suffer labor abuses. “When I first got to Chile I started to work at an aluminum company where I worked for three months. In the end, my boss fired me and did not pay me. I realize I did not formally complain, and now I see it as an experience that allowed me to learn about Chile’s labor system.”
Despite all the negative experiences, Mario stresses that he has felt welcomed by the majority of Chileans and that the discrimination that he has experienced has come from co-workers who “did not have a high level of education. That is why the issue of racism should be part of a public education campaign to increase everyone’s level of tolerance and culture.”
Mario, a graduate in history, and Ana, the young woman who worked as a nana despite her training as a teacher, are also victims of another phenomenon at the root of the wave of immigration caused by economic crisis—they are professionally overqualified. According to Noriega, “Many of the Peruvians who work in Chile are overqualified for the jobs they take on. Among domestic workers, on average, 70% have completed high school and 30% have some university education. That is why the majority of them plan to return to Peru. Only economic reasons keep them here.”
For Tomás Moulian, being overqualified is the source of great frustration that exacerbates Peruvians’ problems of integration. “I am sure that many people that employ Peruvian nanas are bothered by the fact that they speak such good Spanish and can be more educated than they are.” Moulian points out, however, that the bad treatment denounced by Peruvian domestic workers is not exclusively towards them. In Chile, “domestic workers have always been treated in a demeaning manner. If it’s that way with the Chilean ones, then I don’t see why it wouldn’t be the same with the Peruvian ones. The only difference is that the Peruvians are more defenseless as far as their legal situations—the majority are undocumented. Considering that the elite classes think of their servants as inferior, it does not surprise me that they defraud them and don’t pay them.”
But abuse of workers is not limited to Chilean employers; it is a much more general phenomenon. “If you go to the Barandarían, an exclusive Peruvian restaurant in Santiago where the owner is Peruvian, as are all of his workers, you will see that the salaries are extremely low and only 10% of the employees are under contract,” says Noriega.
“On top of the racism, which is terrible and strong, there is the issue that the rich will always try to take advantage of the poor, even more so if they are in difficulty. That is how it has been, ever since world began,” reflects Ana Vásquez.
Mario Collantes gives a powerful testimony to this: “A few days ago I found a Peruvian sleeping in the street and he asked me for money. I asked him what had happened and he told me he had been in Chile for five months and that he was a mechanic. In Lima, an ex-consul who I would rather not identify contracted him to work on his farmland in the south of Chile. He worked three months getting only a portion of beans and bread, nothing else, and every month he was assured that he would be paid the following month. When the work was finished, he was fired and given only $8 to go back to Santiago. The ex-consul threatened him that he must not say anything about his experience or he would have him arrested. Besides, he said that no one would believe his story.”
Stories like this reach the Committee of Peruvian Refugees in Chile everyday. The organization functions out of a small and precarious office near the Plaza de Armas and in less than three years of existence has served approximately 3,500 clients. “But if we consider that there are some 60,000 Peruvians in Chile, we have only bettered the situation of 5% of our compatriots,” notes the Committee’s lawyer, Noriega.
Despite the fact that the Committee was originally intended to support only the 300 Peruvian political refugees in Chile, in a short time its mandate was expanded to include all immigrants from the Andean countries. The Committee has programs in health care and psychological guidance, but most of the immigrants and refugees come for legal assistance. “The bulk of the work involves cases of labor abuse and legalization of immigration status,” says Noriega, “most people come to us with expired visas or deportation orders.”
He says he has perceived a change of attitude over the last year—a change corresponding to the government of Ricardo Lagos—among the Immigration Department officials. “We have a very good relationship with the head of the department, Nicolás Torrealba. This year we had more than 40 meetings, whereas with the former chief we never met once, despite the fact that we had been requesting an interview for years,” says the lawyer, who refers to “undocumented immigrants,” avoiding the term “illegal.” The authorities also avoid referring to people as illegal, in what could be read as an advance in this complex situation.
The Committee calculates that since 1994, 10,000 Peruvians have arrived in Chile each year, many of them undocumented, making it urgent to generate networks of solidarity and encourage tolerance and integration between the two communities. The organization currently has links to different non-governmental organizations and institutions such as Committee in Defense of the People (CODEPU), Christian Churches’ Social Assistance Foundation (FASIC), and the Bolivarian University, with which it runs the First School of Labor Law for Domestic Workers. They aim to help Peruvian nanas, as well as Chilean ones, avoid labor abuse.
With the help of lawyers and students, one weekend out of every month the groups hold an orientation and legal support workshop in the heart of “Little Lima.” The workshops are not only aimed at organizing immigrants, but also at creating consciousness among the Chileans who work and circulate in the sector and do not always maintain the best relations with their new neighbors.
Last March 16, a group of 350 shop owners and apartment residents of Catedral Street sent a letter to the mayor of Santiago, Joaquín Lavín, of the right wing Democratic Independent Union (UDI), in which, using strong language, they rejected the presence of Peruvians in the neighborhood. The letter said, “…we demand that measures be taken to protect our families, our economy, our culture. The hordes of PERUVIANS who swarm around these streets are responsible for vandalism, lack of culture and shady business dealings…. It is no longer a problem of xenophobia,” continues the letter, “this has become a focus of filth, vagrancy, prostitution, drug dealing, etc., which leads to CITIZEN INSECURITY….” The writers of the letter propose the relocation of these immigrants so they “don’t interfere with this area, so that our clients, family members, children won’t see the unfortunate spectacle of people sitting on the ground eating, or sitting around our cathedral in the heart of Santiago—things that even the poorest and most miserable Chilean doesn’t do…”[5] At the same time, Peruvians who work in the area complained in the press that they were victims of hostility and discrimination and that the problems of coexistence had been exaggerated by the media.
Joaquín Lavín met with representatives of Chileans and Peruvians a few days after a rally held by the neighborhood shop owners and residents on March 23, with the goal of organizing a roundtable for discussion.[6] What advances have resulted from that measure is uncertain; the only concrete step taken by the municipality has been to permanently station a squad car on the corner of Catedral and Puente Streets.
The majority of the harsh accusations made in the letter (drug dealing and vandalism, among others) have not been proven. The only noticeable infraction may be the use of illegally altered cell phones to call Peru at discount rates. In fact, the majority of the businesses in the area are calling centers and message services. Businesses with names such as “Mundo Anditel,” “FonoPerú,” and “Perú Servicios Courier” offer flashy deals to call or send packages to not only Peru, but Ecuador, Bolivia and Argentina. Peruvian businessmen have taken advantage of the opportunity, as have some Chileans, who see the immigrant community as a viable market. Restaurants that offer typical Peruvian food at modest prices have multiplied. Many Chileans take advantage of the low prices and the chance to taste Peruvian gastronomic specialties. One can find typical products from that Andean country, such as the popular soda, Inca Kola, and different types of chiles, sauces, dried corn kernels and other Peruvian foods.
The many Peruvians who wander around the area day and night are not only attracted there by the shopping. For the past few years, the place has provided a space for socializing, for which the restaurant El Conga, located off Catedral Street, stands out. During the week it is open for lunch, but on the weekends it transforms into a lively discotheque.
“This entire area was very economically depressed five years ago, even though some Chilean businessmen deny it. Peruvians came to the Plaza de Armas for very traditional reasons, as they get together in the plazas of every city,” remembers Noriega. “First, a Peruvian restaurant opened, then a service to send money and now there are about 40 businesses catering to the Peruvian immigrants, the discotheque El Conga being the best known.” Ana Vásquez says that she has been there several times, as well as to the other discotheque where Peruvians gather, El Charlie, in the working class neighborhood of Recoleta. It is open Saturday night and Sunday afternoons, as a way to take advantage of the only day off most of these immigrants have. These clubs mostly play music called “chicha,” which is a mix of “technocumbia” and Andean music.
“I used to go more frequently a year ago. To go out dancing with friends was a way to evade all the problems of the week,” says Ana. She confesses that she went there because she felt lonely, and adds that in her hometown of Trujillo she probably would have never gone to places like El Conga and El Charlie. “After all, one is much more traditional there for certain things, and even if it’s hard for me to say this, it doesn’t correspond to my social class. Peruvians are much more conservative than Chileans and many of them have become lax in their manners. But I don’t judge them. It’s very difficult to be far from home and living under these conditions.”
Ana’s experiences in Chile are similar to those of other Peruvian immigrants. The experience of the “nana peruana” is making the racial dimensions of Chilean society and class structure more visible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Soledad Ortega is a journalist based in Santiago who reports on social and cultural issues. Translated from the Spanish by NACLA.
NOTES
1. Author’s interview, Santiago, June 7, 2001.
2. “A celebrar en la Plaza de Armas,” Las Últimas Noticias (Santiago), March 28, 2001.
3. Author’s interview, Santiago, June 13, 2001.
4. Author’s interview, Santiago, June 7, 2001.
5. The Peruvian Refugee Committee in Chile provided the author with a copy of the original letter.
6. “Lavín dialoga con peruanos,” Las Últimas Noticias (Santiago), March 25, 2001.
