Taken from Tiempo Latino
Una Publicación de The Washington Post
Henry Bonilla (izq.) presidente de The Salvadoran American Chamber of Commerce premia al empresario Armando Mejía en una gala en 2013. Al centro, el empresario de la industria de la tecnología Charles Vela. Foto de El Tiempo Latino
DC area Salvadorans, once stuck in menial jobs, now becoming business owners
The region's Salvadoran community
By Pamela Constable-The Washington
Post
Thirty years ago, Armando Mejia fled war-torn El Salvador and sneaked
into the United States. He was 17, with a sixth-grade education and two dollars
in his pocket. For the next two decades, he toiled in the kitchens of
Washington-area restaurants, working his way up from dishwasher to chef.
Today Mejia, 49, owns three upscale Tex-Mex bistros in Northern
Virginia, and a fourth in the District. A shrewd and genial host, he serves
perfect frozen margaritas and supports local school sports. A fastidious boss,
he insists that the bathrooms be cleaned three times a day. The strategy has
won him a loyal and diverse customer base far from his roots.
“Why do I like it here? Because it’s got the old ‘Cheers’ atmosphere,”
said Mary Stites, an administrator at NASA who was chatting with a friend at
the glittering bar in Mejia’s El Tio cafe in Gainesville, Va., one recent
afternoon. “Armando treats everyone like family,” she said. “And there are no sticky counters.”
In the four decades since a handful of refugees began a chain of illegal
migration from El Salvador to Washington, the region’s Salvadoran community has
swelled to more than 300,000.
Most entered the United States without authorization and stayed. Many
are still undocumented, which has confined them to menial or informal work in
construction, food industry or personal service.
But as the area’s largest immigrant community has evolved, so have its
ambitions. An increasing number of Salvadorans have moved up from worker to
boss. No longer dependent on the whims of crew chiefs and bus schedules, they
are meeting payrolls and giving orders.
Since it was established in 2001 with 35 members and an office in
Alexandria, Va., the Salvadoran American Chamber of Commerce has grown to more
than 400 members, with headquarters two blocks from the White House. According
to its officials, Salvadoran Americans own more than 4,000 businesses in the
metropolitan region.
“We Salvadorans are very enterprising. We can pick up a rock, paint it
and sell it,” said Elmer Arias, 50, a former chamber president, who recently
retired from the restaurant business and devotes his time to development
projects in El Salvador.
Most Salvadoran firms in the area are modest, family-run businesses in
traditional immigrant niches such as construction and cleaning, or ethnic shops
and eateries that cater to Hispanics. Many Salvadorans without legal status run
small informal operations out of a couple of vans, working as nannies, package
couriers and building remodelers.
But as a growing number become U.S. residents and citizens, mostly
through the sponsorship of an employer or relative, Salvadorans are gaining
access to bank loans, operating permits and the holy grail of immigrant
business aspirations: government contracts.
Legal status also enables them to compete with older Hispanic groups,
such as Puerto Ricans and Cubans, who mostly arrived by legal means and once
dominated Hispanic businesses in the region.
A few local Salvadorans have reached the business stratosphere. Jose
Barahona, 70, built a large office-cleaning company in Annandale and then made
a fortune by opening franchises of the fast-food chain Pollo Campero. Charles
Vela, a research engineer in Potomac, Md., came to the United States with an
advanced education and founded a firm called Afilon that develops high-tech
systems for federal agencies.
Still, they remain exceptions.
According to the Pew Research Center in the District, Salvadorans
nationwide have a median income level of $20,000, about the same as Hispanics
overall, but 23 percent live below the poverty level and only 7 percent of
those older than 24 have a college degree. Sixty percent are foreign born, the
highest of any Hispanic group.
Mark Lopez, a Pew official, said there are no economic statistics on
Salvadorans in the D.C. area, but since they constitute the country’s
second-largest Salvadoran community after Los Angeles, the national figures
accurately reflect their status.
Henry Bonilla, the chamber president, said even the most driven
Salvadorans continue to face daunting obstacles, including difficulties with
English, lack of access to capital and prejudice against Hispanics. Even hard
workers, he said, may not adapt to the responsibilities and tough choices of
running a competitive business.
“There are a lot of people with excellent résumés, but sometimes our
looks and names still hurt us,” Bonilla said. Part of the chamber’s role, he
said, is to help members navigate the ropes and overcome the “negative public
perceptions” of Salvadorans as gang members and social burdens.
Bonilla, 40, fled El Salvador at age 14. He got his first break while
working at a Wendy’s restaurant. The firm gave him management training and
helped pay his tuition at Strayer University. In 1995, he opened an office cleaning
company, then expanded to applying for small business loans and government
contracts. In the process, though, he became a different man.
“People think I had it easy, but it took 28 years of hard work,” Bonilla
said. “For years I kept my phone by the bed and answered calls from clients at
2 a.m. You have to make sacrifices and be tough,” be added. “Family is
important, but you can’t afford to be preferential. You have to hire the
best-qualified person.”
Yet many successful Salvadorans said they initially relied on relatives
or fellow refugees for shelter, work contacts and moral support. Arias said one
of his first jobs was washing dishes in a Georgetown restaurant with another
Salvadoran named Jose Caceres. “We took turns washing and stacking. We kept
each other going,” Arias said with a laugh. Caceres eventually became a
prominent supermarket owner in Woodbridge, Va.
By the same token, many successful Salvadorans said they felt a duty to
help those who came after them. Some business owners hired many low-skilled
fellow immigrants or sponsored skilled workers for U.S. residency; others have
provided social or legal services to those who find themselves in trouble.
Fidel Anival Castro, 33, a lawyer in Wheaton, Md., came to the United
States as a 4-year-old. His father worked at three low-wage jobs, with little
time for the family. Castro floundered in school and said he felt “like I
didn’t belong.” But as a teenager, he found comfort at a Catholic church at
which priests urged him to go to college and law school. Last week he opened
his own law office, which has one desk, two chairs and is still without
carpeting.
“I know what my clients have been through, so I don’t judge them. I try
to help them find a way to climb out, like I did,” said Castro, who represents
many Central Americans facing minor criminal or immigration charges. “I feel
like I am doing God’s work.”
Mejia never did get past the sixth grade, but his outgoing personality,
business instinct and close-knit family helped him build El Tio into a chain of
lively bistros that specialize in Latino cuisine but cater to an ethnically and
socially diverse clientele, from defense contractors to football fans.
Latinos mostly go out to celebrate birthdays and special occasions.
Americans go out to dinner all the time,” Mejia said. Among his most popular
draws are beer discounts during National Football League games and margarita
specials on Thirsty Thursdays. His outlets employ 125 people and take in about
$55,000 a month. In December, the Salvadoran chamber honored him as business
owner of the year.
On Thursday night, the El Tio in Gainesville was packed and noisy with
laughter, music and TV sports talk. Mejia never stopped smiling as he moved
among the tables, checking on orders and greeting regulars. Customers of all
descriptions declared that the spot was their favorite hangout.
“We don’t advertise, but we make everyone feel welcome. People come by
word of mouth,” Mejia said. As he surveyed the convivial scene, he grew
reflective. “I crossed the river with my backpack like everyone else, but I was
always a dreamer,” he said. “If you work hard and stay honest, this is still
the best country in the world to build your dreams.”
