By Anita Snow (related press)

Many immigrants who have flocked to parts of the U.S.-Mexico border, from Texas’s Rio Grande Valley to San Diego to Tijuana, have no idea when they will enter the United States once the pandemic-related restrictions known as Title 42 end. He had doubts whether he would seek asylum or whether he would seek asylum.

Some migrants who traveled from Venezuela, Ecuador, Colombia, Peru and Central America feared the lifting of restrictions would make it harder for them to stay in the mainland United States.

Here are some of the stories along our 1,950 miles (3,140 kilometers) of borders.

___ Aylin Guevara, 45, hurried as he walked across the scorching desert of Ciudad Juárez towards the border.

She was accompanied by her two children, ages 16 and 5, and her husband.Her family fled a coastal city in Colombia after receiving death threats, hoping to find refuge in the United States

After spending the night before in a hotel, they wanted to go to the border — “with the help of God and the Baby Jesus, to get in and out of the border,” Guevara said.

But when they arrived with hours to go until the end of Title 42, U.S. immigration officials said they couldn’t get through.

“No more, it’s over,” he said loudly to them, directing them to a bridge 10 miles (16 km) to the left and right.

___ José Manuel Bueno was one of the last to be sent back to Ciudad Juárez late Thursday under Title 42.

The 28-year-old Venezuelan said he did not know the exact whereabouts of his pregnant wife and three children in U.S. custody, Bueno said in a special document drawn up by U.S. border officials for people to request. A defector who said he had previously been advised to use a smart app, but decided it would be better to cross the border and turn himself in.

“I didn’t have to separate my family,” Bueno insisted. “I have the children’s birth certificates.”

After charging his cell phone on the street, Bueno, along with about a dozen other men, set up camp next to the bridge for the night.

“Now this is the safest place,” he said.

___

Colombian elementary school teacher Diana Rodas spent a shivering night with her two daughters, ages 7 and 13, sleeping on the ground between the two towering border walls that separate San Diego and Tijuana. The girls cried all night long.

Around 2 a.m. Friday, U.S. investigators found 15 to 20 people with children under the age of two, among hundreds sleeping under plastic tarps and blankets. took the family.

“I never expected this to happen,” said Rodas, who fled his country at the risk of his life. She feared deportation, but she wanted to be optimistic. “Hope is the last thing to lose,” she said.

Hundreds of migrants, mostly families, sat in rows between the border walls as border guards passed by to decide who to deal with.

When some were chosen, those left behind cheered.

One woman shouted “Suerte!” or “Good luck!” The selected people were loaded into Border Patrol vans.

Gloria Inigo from Peru said she hopes it will be the next for herself, her husband and her daughters, ages 5 and 8. They crossed the border on Wednesday before the rules changed.

“I have faith,” said Inigo.

___ Authorities in the remote desert region of Yuma, Arizona, have issued a warning after the average daily number of migrant arrivals rose from 300 to 1,000 this week.

Hundreds of people who crossed the Colorado River into the Yuma area in the early hours of Thursday surrendered to border agents, after which the adults and children were taken to buses.

Mayor Doug Nichols has asked the federal government to declare a national disaster and dispatch Federal Emergency Management Agency resources and the National Guard to rush to the mayor and other small border communities.

Most migrants are transferred to shelters run by nonprofits far from the border, but border officials plan to release migrants back into the community if sufficient transportation is not available. Nichols said officials had already told him they planned to release 141 people in Yuma County on Friday.

“There’s always the question, ‘What’s next?’ I kept asking this question for two years and never got an answer,” Nichols said. “We are in an unprecedented situation.”

___ Leaders of a nonprofit that helps asylum seekers fleeing the Arizona border said they were as prepared as possible for the new scenario.

“We are committed to working with all available resources to address this issue,” said Teresa Cavendish, executive director of Casa Aritas, Tucson’s largest shelter. “But that may not be enough.”

Catholic Community Services of Southern Arizona operates a new 300-bed facility for men at Casa Aritas, as well as four other facilities that temporarily accommodate women, families and vulnerable groups. with a combined capacity of more than 1,000 beds.

International Rescue Commission Chairman David Miliband, who visited the International Rescue Commission Welcome Center in Phoenix this week, is confident the agency will be able to handle the growing number of asylum seekers. The 340-bed shelter was less than half capacity.

“We served 50,000 people last year and 38,000 people the year before, without negatively impacting clients or communities,” said Beth Strano, engagement manager at the center in a quiet neighborhood south of Phoenix. ‘ said.

___ Smugglers helped Guatemalan Shady Mazariegos and her four-year-old son reach Matamoros, Mexico, where she and her child crossed the Rio Grande on a raft.

But Border Patrol agents detained two people near Brownville, Texas, a week ago. On Thursday, the 26-year-old and her son returned to Guatemala on one of two flights carrying a total of 387 migrants.

“I heard on the news that there is an opportunity to enter,” Mazariegos said. “I heard it on the radio, but it was all a lie.”

___ At the border wall in Tijuana, migrants begged passers-by for blankets, food and water as the sun sank over the steep hills.

Gerson Aguilera, 41, arrived in Tijuana around 4 p.m. with his three children and wife and crossed a pedestrian crossing to apply for asylum. Aguilera, from Tegucigalpa, Honduras, said he fled with his family after organized criminals began demanding extortion money double the 2,000 Honduran lempiras a week (about $81) they had already paid. rice field.

“It’s very difficult. If you pay them, they’ll kill you,” Aguilera said with tears in her eyes.

Welding shop owner Aguilera said she left her home once in 2020 due to threats, but returned when the situation calmed down. It was no longer an option.

“We ask God to help us,” said Aguilar.

___

Associated Press reporter Gerardo Carrillo of Matamoros, Mexico; María Versa of Ciudad Juarez, Sonia Perez D of Guatemala City; Julie Watson of San Diego; and Suman Naishadam of Tijuana contributed to the report. Snow reported from Phoenix.