Essential Estrogen

Brown eyes dart first up the downtown Waterloo street and then down toward the river before turning skyward to glisten in the midday sun. When they close against the glare, the 19-year-old woman sways slightly and wraps her arms around her thin waist.

"I don't know if I should be doing this -- talking to you," she said, eyes still closed. "There is so much confusion even now, and I'm not sure who can be trusted. I don't want to do something stupid that will cost me what little I have left."

For several moments the group stands silent, then the woman's eyes open and she squints before continuing. "I want you to call me Lidia Castillo," she said and then turned to the 20-something Hispanic man beside her to speak in a Mayan dialect that is similar to Spanish. When he speaks it is only two words: "Luis Morales." She nods and takes the notebook and pen to write down the names, explaining that she doesn't trust those who cannot speak the language to spell the names correctly. Her smile is open and all hesitation is gone when she looks up and asks, "What do you want to know?"

Castillo and Morales, who speaks little English, have traveled to Waterloo from Postville in order to borrow money from friends. During the federal immigration raid Monday on Agriprocessors, Castillo's older brother was taken into custody by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. He's now one of the more than 300 such detainees facing criminal charges in federal court.

Using Castillo as an interpreter, Morales explains that he was a worker at the Postville meatpaciking plant, but was working a later shift on the day of the raid. He had no family in Postville, but most of his friends are now in federal custody.

Morales and Castillo have been dating and were planning to announce their engagement in the coming months. The raid, they said, has changed everything.

"We are both without papers," Castillo said.

Castillo came into this country at a young age with her mother and older brother. She's never known her father, but says that her mother, before she died, kept in contact with family in Guatemala.

Morales, also originally from Guatemala, entered the United States about four years ago. He does not want to provide details of how or where he entered the country. In order to work at Agriprocessors, he purchased fake documents. The employer, he relayed through Castillo, asked few questions.

"He says that they knew he was without proper papers and that an employee helped him fill out applications and other forms so that he could work there," Castillo said. "Many employees there were in this country without papers. He says that family here sent word to others that they could come here and find work, that it was no secret."

Federal authorities conducting the raid -- the largest single-site event in the nation's history -- took 389 individuals, or 40 percent of Agriprocessors' workforce, into custody. Nearly all of those detained are now facing criminal charges such as misuse of social security numbers and aggravated identity theft. To date, no charges have been filed against the business or management.

"The only home I've ever known is Iowa," Castillo said in a voice nearly free of accent. "But that's going to change now. We're are going to find our own way."

The couple has come to Waterloo for money and supplies because they are planning to leave the state. The raid has left them both fearful and isolated.

"We don't know what else to do," Castillo said. "There is nothing left for us here. I want to get somewhere where it will be safe for me to complete the paperwork to become a citizen. I don't want to be deported to Guatemala -- I know nothing about Guatemala except what my mother told me about being treated badly there. This is my home. This is my country, and I need to get someplace where I can fight for it."

As Castillo's voice raises, Morales moves to put an arm around her waist. She leans into him and he whispers something to her.

"He is worried more for me than for himself," she said. "He knows Guatemala and never wants to return, but he knows he can survive there if he is deported. He is worried that I will be hurt if I'm sent there. He thinks that I will be raped and murdered -- that those things happen often there, especially to pretty women."

Neither Castillo or Morales have consulted with an immigration attorney concerning their status. Castillo had planned to begin the process of becoming a citizen, but is now fearful to admit that she is here illegally. Through Castillo, Morales said that he suffered no abuse in his home country, but could not make a living there.

"I'm scared that if I come forward now that I will not have an opportunity to stay," Castillo said. "I'm even more scared that he will not have an opportunity. We need time to sort it all out. We need to feel safe before we begin this process, and we no longer feel safe here."