Promises of fast cash pull Haitians into JBS, harsh conditions push them out

Overview: Promises of good money lured Haitian immigrants to meatpacking jobs in Colorado. But they say the hazardous working conditions and alleged exploitation they experience must change, prompting a lawsuit and strike that launched March 16. URL Collective is a nonprofit organization dedicated to charitable, educational, and scientific purposes, with a mission to educate the public on issues affecting Black and Brown communities in the United States and globally. Editor’s Note: This story is the second installment of a three-part series looking at Haitians in Greeley, Colorado — a company town with a burgeoning immigrant population — as shifting immigration, economic and geopolitical forces meet. It is supported in part by URL Media. Read part one here. GREELEY, Colo. — When Jean Bazile, a father of two from Port-au-Prince, arrived in the United States via the southern border in July 2023, he urgently needed work to support his family back in Haiti’s capital. Bazile, 30, went online to look for a job and came across a TikTok video by Mackenson Rémy promoting “a great job opportunity in Colorado.” Bazile, who asked to use a pseudonym to avoid retaliation, contacted Rémy right away. Rémy brought him to Greeley for a job with JBS, the world’s largest meat producer with more than $73 billion in annual revenue. With hourly wages at meatpacking plants ranging from $24 to $34—well above Colorado’s minimum wage—Bazile felt lucky to be earning that much as a newcomer. He did not expect the grueling, fast-paced, often hazardous nature of cutting and packing thousands of pounds of meat. “The working environment is nearly impossible to sustain during long shifts,” Bazile told The Haitian Times in a recent interview. “There is extreme heat, poor ventilation and little time to learn how to use the sharp, dangerous tools,” he said. “Yet we’re expected to work quickly, no matter the risk.” On March 16, Bazile joined members of the United Food and Commercial Workers (UFCW) local union on strike at the JBS plant to demand better pay, improved safety and stronger health care benefits. Claire Poundstone, an attorney for the union, said that more than 2,600 JBS workers walked off the job on the first day of the strike alone, marching daily with placards and signs denouncing JBS’ practices. Planned to run for two weeks, many workers say they are prepared to continue picketing until conditions improve. Osnal Boyer, a native of Aquin in southern Haiti, is among those who pledge to keep fighting. “It’s time for the UFCW to think about ending the contract if JBS refuses to negotiate in good faith.” JBS produces 8% of the beef consumed in the U.S. — with workers slaughtering at least 10,000 cows daily. The company says it already offers a “strong, fair and consistent contract,” citing wage increases and benefits negotiated in 2025. Union leaders dispute that claim. UFCW Local 7 President Kim Cordova said the company’s proposed raises—averaging less than 2%—fall below inflation, while rising health care costs are shifted onto workers. Of the plant’s 3,800 unionized workers, between 80% and 90% are foreign-born, according to the union, including 1,000 Haitians. “The company violates workers’ rights and ignores their concerns about safety and health,” Cordova said in a statement ahead of the strike. “It gives workers no choice but to stand together in solidarity and show that they cannot be silenced.” Workplace conditions ‘wear them down fast’ Union organizers say momentum is growing. Nearly all members voted on Feb. 7 to authorize the strike, and more workers are expected to join as the picket line continues — the first major strike at a U.S. slaughterhouse since 1985. For plant employees, the job’s demands are simply unsustainable. Emmanuel Jean, a food safety inspector whose role entailed enforcing rules at plants like JBS, said the conditions make staying inside the plant impossible after a few years. “The heat from boiling machines, the physical strain and standing for long shifts wear them down fast,” he said. Workers describe a high-speed production environment where carcasses move along a “disassembly line,” broken down with power knives, saws and hooks. Floors are often slick with blood and grease, while noise, chemicals and heat create hazardous conditions. In a pending lawsuit, Haitian workers allege: - Excessive line speeds reaching up to about 450 cattle per hour. - Temperatures up to 100 degrees on the kill floor. - Denial of bathroom breaks, forcing some workers to urinate on themselves. - Inadequate training in languages workers understand. - Pressure to sign documents waiving rights without comprehension. “The harm caused by JBS management’s choices will remain with workers forever,” said Hannah Wolf, an attorney from FarmSTAND representing plaintiffs, during a Zoom interview with The Haitian Times. “The company must be held accountable.” A never-ending cycle to find new immigrants “No one who’s properly settled in the country stays long in a job like that,” said Anne François, a former meatpacking plant worker for a JBS competitor. She left the company after becoming pregnant, and now runs a budding Haitian food catering business. With departures likely as people like François gain a foothold in the country, JBS has had to get creative to source new workers from outside Greeley. “They pay relatively well,” said Emmanuel Charles, a former JBS worker. “But after a year or two, many leave. Then the hiring cycle starts again.” Over the years, recruitment has even reached across the globe—tapping refugees from Somalia, Burma and countries in West Africa. More recently, as the pandemic exacerbated the labor shortage, recruiters targeted migrants already in the U.S. Enter Rémy. He is a local entrepreneur who developed connections within JBS, notably with human resources manager Edmond Ebah, a native of Benin. However, since the allegations against him emerged in late fall of 2025, he has largely stayed out of public view and has not responded to multiple requests for comment regarding his role and the accusations. His current whereabouts remain unclear. As his social media promotions gained views on different platforms, Rémy became known among newly-arriving Haitians as their ticket to finding jobs quickly. Bazile said he was transported in July 2023 from Miami to Colorado in a packed van with 14 others for a three-day journey. When they arrived in Greeley in the chill of early morning in the mountains, he found 10 to 15 people sharing a small room at the Rainbow Motel in downtown. A 5-bedroom house nearby that Rémy owned held about 60 people. The conditions Bazile observed prompted him to ask Rémy if there was another place for him to stay instead of the crowded motel. Rémy then took him to the unfurnished home, where Bazile stayed in a room with 11 other people he did not know, paying $65 a night in rent. To eat regularly, Bazile said they were pressured to buy overpriced goods and rides to the shop that Rémy owned. Despite the difficulties, three days after his arrival in Greeley, Bazile began working at JBS. “Racks of beef move almost at light speed,” he said. “It’s hot, humid, and there are no bathroom breaks as needed. Not enough training. They give you cheap tools to work with and still expect perfect performance.” ‘Something must change’ Despite the conditions, pending lawsuits and broader immigration concerns affecting Haitians with Temporary Protected Status (TPS), many workers stay because they have no choice. Bazile, for one, sees a bleak future if he quits. Having sold his lands in Haiti to finance his journey, he cannot even build a home for his family any longer. His wife and two young children are depending on him. After more than two years at JBS, he supports both the strike and the pending lawsuit—despite the fear of losing his job. For him, the fight is about more than wages. It’s about dignity. “Something must change,” he said. “We get injured, we don’t get proper treatment, and we’re not paid enough to keep up with the cost of living.”