Thousands of migrants flocking along the U.S.-Mexico border, from Texas’ Rio Grande Valley to San Diego and Tijuana, say when the pandemic-related restrictions known as Title 42 will end, they will enter the U.S. and seek asylum. or 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.
Rudin, a Honduran man who asked not to use his surname to protect himself and his family, arrived at Tijuana’s El Chaparral port of entry on Friday with his pregnant wife and five-year-old son.
He stood just meters from the mainland United States and was confused as to how to proceed.
“Do you think we can cross over and apply for asylum?” he asked.
He said he has been trying to use CBP One, an app created by the border agency every day for several weeks, to help people apply for asylum in the United States, and has reported incident information and scars on his body from being shot nine times during border patrols. He said he was repeatedly trying to upload photos containing them. 2021 robbery case. Surgery to remove one of the bullets that hit him left him with a large scar on his neck.
The app didn’t work for him at all, just showing an error screen or a message saying there were no more applicant slots.
Blaine Bookie, an immigration attorney who helps people at the crossroads, said U.S. officials are telling asylum seekers in ports to keep trying the app.
“At this time, there does not appear to be an option to apply for asylum without an appointment through the CBP app,” she said.
Some migrants arrived at the border after traveling for months.
Jesús Bravo and his wife, Johann Miperasa, crossed the border from Brownsville, Texas, and arrived in Matamoros with twin daughters born en route.
They left their native Venezuela nine months ago, crossed the dangerous Darien Gorge that separates Colombia from Panama, and then stopped in Panama where their girls were born.
On Friday, they got off the bus, pushed the baby into a double stroller, crossed the city, and headed straight for the banks of the Rio Grande.
“I’m fed up with apps, they don’t answer, they don’t give promises, so I have to cross the river like everyone else,” said Bravo, 23.
Ailyn Guevara, 45, hurried her way through the hot desert of Ciudad Juárez the previous evening as she walked toward 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 and hoped to seek refuge in the United States.
According to Guevara, after spending the previous night in a hotel, they wanted to go to the border, “to get in and out with the help of God and the Child Jesus.”
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.
Jose Manuel Bueno was one of the last players 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. to surrender across the border.
“I didn’t have to separate my family,” Bueno insisted. “I have the children’s birth certificates.”
Bueno set up camp for the night next to a bridge with about a dozen other men after charging his mobile phone from a street connection.
“Now is the safest place,” he said.
Diana Rodas, an elementary school teacher from Colombia, spent a shivering night with her two daughters, ages 7 and 13, 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 under threat of death. 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 20 rows between the border walls while border guards passed by and decided who to handle.
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,” Inigo said.
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.
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 told him they would release 141 people in Yuma County on Friday.
“The question keeps coming up, ‘What’s next?’ I asked this question for two years and never got an answer,” Nichols said. “We are in an unprecedented situation.”
Venezuelan Dayana Ibarra and her husband feared it would get more difficult after Title 42 expired, so two weeks ago they crossed through a crack in a wall near El Paso.
they were arrested. She was detained for three days and her husband for nine.
On Friday, they waited at El Paso’s Sacred Heart Asylum and raised the money they needed to go to North Carolina because they have two brothers in North Carolina and are due in court in two months. I was trying
The couple left, leaving behind three children.
“Because of them,” Ibarra said she and her husband decided to take risks.
At the Tijuana border wall, migrants begged passers-by for blankets, food and water as the sun dipped over the steep hills.
Gerson Aguilera, 41, arrived in Tijuana around 4pm with his three children and wife and attempted to cross over and 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 painful. If you pay, they’ll kill you,” said Aguilera, 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 in Matamoros, Mexico. Maria Versa of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Giovanna Dell’Orto from El Paso, Texas. Julie Watson and Suman Naishadam of Tijuana, Mexico contributed to this report. Snow reported from Phoenix.
