The legend of Wilson Peres 

This is the second piece in a continuing series on Brazilian immigration and how it has transformed Martha’s Vineyard.

MANTENÓPOLIS, Brazil – The American bald eagle tattoo on Wilson Peres’ right arm is a proud symbol of his love for the U.S., and the immigrant journey that brought him from his native Brazil to Martha’s Vineyard. 

Indeed, there are American eagles everywhere in his life. They flank the entry to his blue-tiled, two-story home back in Brazil, in this small town set in the mountains in the state of Espírito Santo, where he has returned after spending years saving money in the landscaping business on Martha’s Vineyard. And they are there at his auto shop, at the town’s main entrance. There is even a silver eagle statue in his living room.

These days, when young men from Mantenópolis — one of the towns in Brazil from which many people immigrate to the U.S. and find their way to Martha’s Vineyard — think about setting out to build a new life on the Island, they usually seek advice from Peres. He is a 62-year-old successful businessman, who transformed his savings from work on the Island into a prosperous life back in Brazil. And he is something of a local legend in this town.

On the Island, he created Peres Landscaping, headquartered in Oak Bluffs, where his family also owns a home. His children have decided to stay on the Island, where they were born, he said. His son took over the landscaping business, and another daughter works at another landscaping company, while the other works at a bank. His older grandson is a talented carpenter, he added. 

1 of 8

“I’m not better than you, and if I was able to achieve this, everybody can, too,” Peres advises newcomers who knock on his door dreaming of making money on the Vineyard. “First, pay all your bills … Then live modestly, thinking about your future, and don’t forget to respect the rules of where you are.” 

But he knows not everyone can manage their money like he did — he says only one or two out of 15 immigrants that went at the same time as he did succeeded financially.

Peres was born in Cuparaque, in Brazil’s Minas Gerais state, and lives in Mantenópolis, in the neighboring state of Espírito Santo. Many Brazilian immigrants on the Vineyard come from those two towns, which are part of a region of about 50 municipalities with the highest international immigration rate per capita in all of Brazil. 

So many people have immigrated from both towns that their population has declined: In the 2022 census, Cuparaque, population 3,983 people, lost nearly 15 percent of its residents in comparison with 2010; while Mantenópolis, which has 12,770 people, lost about 6 percent. 

The Migration Policy Institute estimates nine percent of foreign-born immigrants living in Massachusetts in 2022 come from Brazil, the largest single nationality group in the state. The state is home to the oldest and most established Brazilian immigrant community in the U.S., and is among the top three largest Brazilian communities, with New York and Florida.

Hermínio Benjamin Espanhol, Mantenópolis’ mayor, who is also an American citizen and has lived in Boston, points to socioeconomic inequalities in Brazil as an immigration driver. “In the U.S., if you are a street cleaner, you can live and eat well. You can have the same iPhone as your boss,” he said. “Here, you have to save a lot to support your family.” 

Like many immigrants, Peres worked mainly at weeding and harvesting at coffee plantations in Brazil. “Landscaping is like farm work, the type of work I grew up doing,” he said. He echoes many who feel the rural environment in Martha’s Vineyard reminds them of their Brazilian roots: “I feel at home. Everything is close by. Some parts are like a farm.”

Peres’ journey started with a leap of faith: He arrived at Logan Airport in August 1989 without a place to stay. He was going to look up two acquaintances in Lowell, but a friend from Mantenópolis recognized him at the airport, and helped him to find work and a home in Boston. A few days later, he was washing dishes in a restaurant in the North End. 

He taught himself to cook, and even became head chef, but by the end of 1993, he felt the urge to go back home. Far from his family, he was stressed at work, he missed his daughter, and he was concerned about his father’s health. 

“The guy who says he doesn’t cry is a liar,” he said about being an immigrant.

But when he got back to Mantenópolis, he couldn’t find a job. He decided to return to Boston four months later. And In 1995, he visited his older brother, who was working on the Vineyard.

Unlike Lyndon Johnson Pereira, the first known Brazilian immigrant to Martha’s Vineyard, who couldn’t find anyone to play soccer with him in 1987, Peres immediately found people he used to play soccer with in Brazil. As he recalls, they were hosting a tournament. “About 800 to 1,000 Brazilians lived on the Island around that time,” Peres recalls.

An old friend told him that instead of earning $10 per hour in Boston, he could get $20 on the Island. A few years later, he moved there after lining up two jobs: he worked for a landscaping company from 7 am to 4 pm, and from 5 pm to 1 am, he worked at a restaurant. 

Then he created what he counts to be the third Brazilian-owned landscaping company on the Vineyard.

“My business started taking off after I put an ad in The MV Times,” he said. From eight clients in the first month, he rose to 28 in six months. Peres benefited from a process in the 1990s that allowed certain unauthorized immigrants who already lived in the U.S. to apply for green cards if they had a sponsor. He eventually became an American citizen.

Remittances impact

Brazil’s Central Bank estimates that Brazilian immigrants in the U.S. sent home about $2 billion in 2023, or 51.2 percent of global remittances received in Brazil that year. The money fuels local economies in Brazil, particularly in real estate investments like houses, buildings, and farms. A credit union headquartered in the regional center city of Governador Valadares called Sicoob Crediriodoce has 40,000 clients. It found that of 706 clients it was able to identify as living outside Brazil, 220 are located in Massachusetts — 122 being under phone codes 508 and 774, which include southern areas of the state, like the Vineyard. 

The credit union has been running a program to help immigrants to invest wisely, as many don’t have experience managing businesses, and end up losing their savings. 

“Many make emotional decisions that lead to bad investments, as they want to show their victory abroad,” said Silas Dias Costa Jr., business director at Crediriodoce. “It’s easy to find big homes worth millions of reals that later, people can’t rent for much. But they want to build in their hometowns.” 

He said that the program has been advising the ones who come back, and also training immigrant family members: “I had a client who bought very expensive cows, but didn’t know how to feed them properly, and many of the cows died.” He hopes to attract more people to the credit union, and estimates that bringing in immigrants’ savings could increase the credit union’s income by fivefold, to 5 billion Brazilian reals. 

Others don’t get to save, and keep working chasing the dream, said Sueli Siqueira, a professor at Vale do Rio Doce University (UNIVALE) in Governador Valadares, Minas Gerais, who has studied immigration since the early 2000s. “Most people stay and work many hours, compromising their physical health because of the work and mental health, because of fear and living in a country with a different culture. They live a dream, but it’s a dream that will not materialize for many.”

Stefano Couri de Carvalho is the president of the Commercial Association in Governador Valadares, and has also owned a tourism agency since 1997. He said that remittances would generate a line of family members in the city to receive dollars in the past, but that today transfers are made in Brazilian currency, mostly through banks. 

When I met him, Carvalho was instructing a couple who wanted to attend a family wedding in North Carolina on the U.S. visa interview process. Many applicants, like the couple, believe it’s harder for people from their region to get a visa, since it’s known for massive immigration to the U.S. Some companies even advertise on Instagram when the applicants who filed with them get a visa. 

Changes in immigration

Immigrating to the U.S. in the 1980s seemed to be an easier process. The first Brazilian immigrants from towns like Cuparaque would typically enjoy a week of festivities, including barbecues with family and friends, and a final goodbye downtown with firecrackers, before traveling to Governador Valadares on the back of a pickup truck.

With the challenges of getting visas and stronger deterrence policies at the border, many immigrant journeys turned to underground routes, which are often controlled by criminal groups. Now people leave quietly, and neighbors only realize they are in the U.S. when they see pictures on social media.

The economic opportunity on the Island is a key magnet for people, but experts say it’s not just economics. An undocumented immigration network facilitates U.S.-Mexico border crossings, with smugglers in towns like Cuparaque and Mantenópolis working with smugglers from other countries, like Mexico, along the route. Also, people know they will find an established community when they arrive on the Island, with support from friends, family, and churches, as well as restaurants and supermarkets with Brazilian products. 

In that area of Minas Gerais and Espírito Santo, “Even stronger than immigration’s footprint in this territory is immigration culture, or the idea that anything can be solved by immigrating,” said Professor Siqueira.

When we met in Governador Valadares, she drove us to “Immigrant Square,” where there’s a statue chosen by public vote. It shows a youngman wearing a cap and carrying a backpack. “It reflects the culture,” she said, one of clandestine migration. 

Some Brazilian immigrants come to the U.S. legally, on some type of visa, and overstay. But others pay up to $25,000 to cross the border, according to Siqueira: “Many get into debt and keep paying for the first couple of years, or give their properties as a guarantee.” 

Smuggling migrants or promoting illegal immigration for profit has been a crime in Brazil since 2017. When I visited in the spring, Brazil’s federal police had executed a raid in Cuparaque, seizing money and assets of migrant smugglers. 

“People end up suffering various violations during these crossings, and often even death,” said Janine Bastos, commissioner at the Division of Repression of Human Trafficking and Migrant Smuggling, also emphasizing the harsh natural conditions people face on clandestine journeys, like crossing deserts.

From 2021 to 2024, Brazil’s Federal Police investigated nearly 500 migrant smuggling cases, resulting in 390 people charged with migrant-smuggling crime. The police also launched 142 operations to crack down on migrant-smuggling networks. Most operations happened in this area of about 50 municipalities with historically high immigration to the U.S. in Minas Gerais. 

The first immigrants were mainly single men who worked in restaurants, construction, or landscaping for extensive hours to raise money quickly and get back home. Throughout the years, with shifts in U.S. immigration policy and the support of a more established Brazilian community on the Island, more families started arriving, bringing their children and staying for much longer.

While rare, there have been sporadic arrests of Brazilian nationals on the Island over the past few years, including most recently when Enforcement and Removal Operations arrested a 24-year-old in Edgartown on five counts of rape in August. Last year, a 37-year-old Brazilian national wanted for the alleged rape of a 5-year-old child in his home country was apprehended near his West Tisbury home.

The last time Congress adjusted the legal immigration system in a significant way was in 1990. 

“The absence of immigration reform that expands or creates lawful pathways that flexibly address the contemporary U.S. labor market, family reunification, and humanitarian protection needs results in people coming illegally,” said Michelle Mittelstadt, director of Communications and Public Affairs at the Migration Policy Institute. “The absence of legal pathways, coupled with the border hardening that has taken place beginning in the mid-1990s, and most significantly since 9/11, results in more migrants turning to smugglers to get across the border, and the use of increasingly dangerous routes.”

Back in Mantenópolis, Wilson Peres meets a group of friends for beers and dinner after a soccer game. Five out of 10 players sitting at that table have lived on the Vineyard. For several years, Peres used to work summers on the Island, and winters in Brazil’s summer. But in the past two years he has stayed in Mantenópolis. His wife, three children, and six grandchildren visit from the Vineyard. “I have a bed here and a bed there,” he said. 

Now he is running for vice-mayor for Mantenópolis in the elections in October, under the Liberal Party — a conservative political party former far-right Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro joined in 2021. Peres’ campaign slogan is “Team: God, Homeland, Family, and Freedom!”

Peres doesn’t only have the eagle statues in his auto shop. Hanging on the ceiling near a Brazilian flag, he also keeps a bicycle, the only thing he owned before traveling to the U.S. “It’s to never forget where I came from,” he said. “Most everything else I was able to acquire with money I got on the Island. I’m grateful.”

The author of this piece, Paula Moura, is a Brazilian journalist working in Massachusetts, and an MV Times regular contributor. She’s originally from Minas Gerais, but because the state is huge, it was her first time traveling to those towns and villages where so many immigrants to the Island come from. She said everyone there was very welcoming and, in traditional Minas Gerais fashion, offered coffee and cheese bread.