NEWPORT, Tenn. — Marlon Espinoza and Daniel López are sitting outside their cabin one recent evening. The sky is filled with stars and the air is crisp in northeastern Tennessee.

The two men are farm workers from Sinaloa, Mexico. They pick tomatoes. It’s their fourth season working on this farm, they say.

“We get good pay, and we can help our families back home,” says Espinoza, who is 32.

“But this season has been harder,” adds López, 24. He’s wearing a T-shirt with the picture of an eagle, and a land of the free, home of the brave, America logo.

Hurricane Helene ravaged the Southeast just over a week ago, including where the tomato farm sits outside Newport.

“We lost our food and other belongings, like clothes,” López says. “The refrigerator was knocked down by the water, and all the food spilled out. We didn’t expect it to be that bad.”

López says he and the other workers knew a storm was coming, but they didn’t think the river would rise so quickly. He says they all scrambled to get whatever belongings they could and moved to higher ground.

“Water came up to here,” says López, pointing to his knees.

Marlon Espinoza, 32, and Daniel López, 24, pose for a portrait at the tomato farm where they work near Newport, Tenn.

Marisa Peñaloza

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Marisa Peñaloza

This disaster is of unprecedented scope. More than 200 people across the Southeast U.S. have been killed by Hurricane Helene, and recovery has been slow in the mountainous area of eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina.

Communities in this part of Tennessee are relying heavily on nonprofit groups and on neighbors’ good will to provide water, cleaning supplies and food. For the Hispanic community in flood-ravaged parts, though, getting help is complicated by language and cultural barriers, leaving some people feeling isolated, especially these farm workers.

The larger Latino community is reaching out to help Latinos

On a clear night, a group of volunteers descend on the tomato farm bringing food and water to Espinoza and López and the other farm workers here.

“We want to tell you that what we are doing tonight is the least we can do for our people,” pastor Alexis Andino says as the workers gather around. “It’s the minimum a Hispanic can do for another Hispanic. We thank God we are alive.”

Andino came from Honduras, and he’s lived in Tennessee for almost three decades.

Julio Colíndres, a volunteer, walks around with a box filled with food bags.

“Ya tiene bolsita?” Do you have a baggie already?” he asks.

“Frijoles!” beans!” Colíndres shouts to the crowd.

Rogelio Morales, from Guatemala, stands in the field clutching his food bag. “I got two pieces of bread, water, a bag of sandwiches, a can of beans, a can of pears,” he says with a smile on his face.

“This is the first time we get help” since Helene made landfall here, says Morales. “We survived on Maruchan.” He’s talking about the popular instant noodle soup.

Seeking help outside the farm is unfathomable to him. “I really don’t know how to navigate the area,” he says.

“I’m so grateful to these people, it feels good to have something,” he says, his voice trailing. “It’s good to know that there are people who think about us, people who are in need.”

Sandra de Leon (right) hands out supplies to people from the community of Newport, Tenn. She and her husband, Ruben Aguilar, came to the U.S. from Guatemala decades ago and now manage 180 properties in the nearby town of Pigeon Forge.

Rubén Aguilar

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Rubén Aguilar

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Morales smiles again just thinking of what’s next. “We are going to have dinner now,” he says with a laugh.

For some volunteers, this work is personal

“This hit really close to home,” says Sandra de Leon, talking about the storm and its impact on the farm workers. She and her husband are the main drivers of this grassroots aid effort tonight.

De Leon, 43, says so many people have been generous — sending donations even from out-of-state: “People have been calling me asking, ‘What do you need, what do people need?’ ”

She and her husband, Ruben Aguilar, came to the U.S. from Guatemala decades ago.

“We’ve done what they’ve done,” she says. “We’ve migrated. We’ve picked tomatoes. We’ve cleaned houses, we’ve done everything.”

Today, the couple are successful owners of a cleaning business. They manage 180 properties in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., and it’s some of these cabin owners who have been pitching in since Helene hit.

De Leon says it’s also important to help farm workers because they help feed society. “They pick the fruits and the vegetables that we buy. So they are very important and they’re the people [who] get less attention,” she says.

The couple is also helping their all-Latino workforce, they say.

Grateful to have a job

Hurricane Helene left the tomato farm in bad shape, and Espinoza says they went days with no work and no power and water. Work resumed a few days ago; power and water have come back, as well.

López laments the changes that Helene brought. “We were harvesting, and there’s no more harvest now. We are doing clean-up work now — we are cleaning all the mess the hurricane left behind,” he says.

But both men say they feel grateful. And when their contract ends at the end of this month here in Tennessee, they say they’ll head to Florida for their next job.

The gathering on the farm dwindles, and Pastor Andino calls for a prayer.

“Thank you, God, for this day, for giving us this gift,” he prays. “Thank you for the opportunity that you’ve given these men and women working here to survive, for allowing life and health to persevere in the midst of destruction and suffering.

“Amen.”