John Perry *, Nica Notes,
Migrants from several countries prepare to cross the Rio Grande into Texas. Until two years
ago, few Nicaraguans migrated north. But then the numbers making the journey suddenly
increased with people following a dream of supposedly well-paid jobs in the US.
For many it has not worked out. (Photo: Radio La Primerisima)
In the photo his mother shows me, Alejandro is with a group of friends: seven Nicaraguan men and women, one with a 14-year-old daughter. There’s no apprehension in the faces, yet none have ever left their country, and all are about to start the hazardous 4,000-kilometre journey to the Mexico-US border.
Before he left, Alejandro had a good job. He worked from home as a programmer, he speaks good English and his boss didn’t want him to leave. But he saved his salary and borrowed money to pay a coyote $6,300 to get him to Texas. The others in the group have all done the same. The day after the photo is taken, they begin the easy part of the journey, crossing El Salvador and Guatemala by bus to reach the border with Mexico. At that point they depend on the coyote and his accomplices to get them into Mexico and complete the remaining three-quarters of the route north.
Once on Mexican soil, they wait two days in a safe house while relatives pay the first instalment of the coyote’s fee. Then they spend a week in different cars, one driver handing them on to another until eventually they come to a house which is just a few kilometres from the Rio Grande. By now the relatives have paid a second instalment, and a third will be needed before they can cross. They spend two more days waiting.
The coyote is part of a group of coyotes and the group now tells the migrants that the women must cross the river separately from the men. But after the women leave the next day, an argument breaks out among the coyotes. It seems the money they have been paid is now insufficient. The five men are told they must find another $7,000 between them. Now taken hostage by those who supposedly were helping them, they face unspecified threats if money doesn’t arrive within seven days. Relatives, contacted by phone, scramble to raise the ransom. It proves difficult as they already have debts. The final payment is made just as the deadline is reached: the relative making it arrives at the shop where she can transfer the cash only to find that it is closing for the night. After listening to her tearful story, the staff reopen it and the money is sent.
At the house in Mexico, the men are told they will leave the next morning. Crossing the Rio Grande is dangerous and most of them can’t swim. More migrants arrive, until eventually there are around 20 of different nationalities, who are roped together to pass through the waist-high rapids. Once they’ve crossed, the coyotes hand them over to US border guards, as if by arrangement, and return to Mexico. The new arrivals are taken to an immigration office where they are given food and clothes and those being allowed into the country can make asylum claims. All of the Nicaraguans can stay, and each is given a phone on which they have to report to the authorities while they await court hearings on their cases. They are now free to leave.
Alejandro has been promised work in New York: he has enough money left for a ticket, but when he arrives there the job has gone. He passes three months in a friend’s flat before finding work, for which he must travel back to Texas. It’s in a factory farm, it pays $100 a day and it’s ‘the worst job he’s ever done’. Later, still working illegally, he gets construction work. When he eventually attends his court hearing, back in New York, he’s told his case will be adjourned – until 2034.
Almost a year has passed since Alejandro left. He’s barely surviving: any spare money is sent home for his two daughters and to pay his debts. His clothes are falling apart and he’s eating poorly. He’s applied to work legally and awaits the outcome. He badly wants to return to Nicaragua, but he needs to work, at least for two more years, to pay what he owes and buy his ticket home. Several of his friends are struggling and have the same regrets.
Until two years ago, few Nicaraguans migrated north. But then numbers making the journey suddenly increased. According to the White House, they were ‘fleeing political persecution and communism’, but none of the migrants or their families I have spoken to have ever mentioned this as a motive. The real reasons are the dream of supposedly well-paid jobs and, until recently, the promise of favourable treatment at the border. This year numbers have fallen sharply because border practices have changed and deportations have begun. Instead, Nicaraguans (along with would-be migrants from Cuba, Haiti and Venezuela) can apply for what’s called ‘humanitarian parole’. So far, some 21,000 Nicaraguans have flown north under this system with permits to work for two years, encouraged by Facebook ads and promotional videos by the US embassy aimed at people with skills and qualifications.
The debilitating effect this has on Nicaragua adds to that of the US sanctions which apply to all the ‘parole’ countries. A friend of mine runs a non-profit health clinic serving a poor barrio. Three of her best workers left for the US a few months ago, disrupting the clinic’s operation and forcing new staff to be recruited and trained. Migration replenishes an aging US workforce while damaging the economies of countries whose governments Washington dislikes. It’s a pernicious brain-drain.
* John Perry is based in Masaya, Nicaragua, and writes for the Council on Hemispheric Affairs, London Review of Books, FAIR and other outlets.