A mother of three is welcomed to Mexico by insecurity, uncertainty, and financial distress.
Paola’s hometown is a poor farming village, where families live off of the few crops they grow. Longing for a better life, Paola and her family decided to journey to the US, leaving behind the threats of extreme poverty and gang violence. Along the way, Paola nearly loses her life at the hands of a Mexican cartel. At the time of this writing, she was awaiting her asylum process in Mexico—the same country where she and her family nearly lost their lives.
Paola sat quietly at our café table as I interviewed her sister and brother-in-law. I offered to separate the two families so they could have more privacy while telling their stories, but they insisted on sitting together through the interviews. Paola’s gaze seemed to get lost in her coffee as she stared at it, fidgeting. Once I was done interviewing her sister and brother-in-law, I attempted to make a few jokes to ease any tension. She appeared more comfortable and told me she was ready to start.
“I came from El Salvador and arrived in Chiapas, Mexico, in March 2019. I don’t remember when I got to Tijuana, but it was probably about two months ago. We are from a canton in El Salvador where there are no jobs. People live off what they grow: corn and beans. The poverty and the threats we received from gangs because we lived in enemy territory are the reasons we left our home. I came along with my husband, my brother-in-law, and my three kids, who are four years old (twins) and ten months old.
“From El Salvador to Chiapas, there was really no problem. We crossed the river after arriving at Tecun Uman at 7:00 pm and did not come across any checkpoints along the way. We got to Chiapas around 10:00 pm. My husband worked for a few days cleaning hotel rooms in Chiapas, for which he was paid 700 MEX ($34.93) a week. During that time, we submitted all our paperwork to COMAR [Mexican Commission for Refugee Assistance] and UNHCR. We waited for UNHCR to provide us with aid so we could rent a room for 1,500 MEX ($74.84) a month. UNHCR ended up giving us 6,000 MEX ($299.36) in aid each month.
“We remained in Chiapas for nearly three and a half months, waiting for all our paperwork to go through. COMAR denied us asylum. They didn’t give us a reason why. They just denied it. We later found out they were supposed to give us a reason, but at the time, all we did was fall back on the humanitarian visa and wait longer for that one to go through. We then made our way to Tijuana in the hopes of meeting up with my sister, who was already here and could take us in.
“We took a direct bus to Tijuana.” Paola’s body began to shake, and she hunched forward. “The night we left Chiapas, our bus was stopped by the federal police. They got me down from the bus and requested to see our documents. After I handed them over, they asked for money, claiming our visas alone were insufficient to let us through. I fought back, saying that was the whole point of the visa, and they had no reason to scam us like that. My husband also tried negotiating with them, telling them we didn’t have enough money to both pay them and feed our kids during the three-day journey. We couldn’t just let our kids go hungry! But they insisted that we either pay, or they would leave us stranded in the dark. They got all of us down from the bus and did not let it move until everyone had paid. The officers asked for 500 MEX ($24.95) from each of us,” or 2,500 MEX ($124.73) in total.
“We ended up with no money after paying them and had to go hungry. Thankfully, we had some milk for our baby boy.
“After that encounter, we continued on our way. Before arriving to Tijuana, close to Sonorita, the Jalisco Nueva Generación cartel fell upon us.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she crossed her arms over her body. “We were half asleep when we heard someone asking my brother-in-law where he was from and to produce his visa. The voice then said, ‘Take your luggage and get off the bus.’ I opened my eyes to find a group of men carrying weapons. My brother-in-law pointed at us, saying we were traveling together, hoping to gain some pity for our sleeping children. Just as they did with my brother-in-law, they asked us where we were from and demanded we show them our visas. Another young man got on the bus with a weapon and said to my husband, ‘Get off the bus with your whole family and get your suitcases down as well.’”
Paola snapped her fingers, signaling the urgency with which she and her family received the command.
“We saw they were getting everyone down. I took longer to get off the bus because I had to put sweaters on each of my kids. My husband and my brother-in-law each grabbed one of the twins, and I stayed behind with the baby, wrapping him in blankets. The young man with the weapon came back to me, demanding once more that I get off the bus immediately. He grabbed my diaper bag and ordered me off the bus. I thought it was weird that they were asking us to get down.
“When we finally got down from the bus, we noticed many trucks parked around us, with their doors open. The young men were shoving everyone onto these trucks, forcefully, even the children. As soon as my husband saw this, he said to me, ‘Get back on the bus!’ The young men saw us and started screaming, ‘Where are you going?’ They were pulling me over to the trucks, but I kept resisting. My husband conjured up a quick lie and said we had one more kid up on the bus and needed to get him down. With that lie, they allowed us back on, but they quickly called our bluff. They started screaming once more, pulling us to get on the trucks. Then, as a miracle from God, the armed men heard a ‘3-4’ on their radios. I don’t know what ‘3-4’ means, but the young men called to each other saying, ‘A 3-4 is coming!’ They rounded up the people they had managed to get down from the bus, slammed the doors of their trucks, and drove away.” Paola released a sigh of relief. “I cried, thinking about the women and children that were in those trucks. I exclaimed, ‘Dear Lord, what have you saved us from?’ Out of the forty-something people originally on the bus, only six of us remained.
“Back on the bus, we went on our way and were surprised by two more trucks up ahead. I looked at my husband and said, ‘If they didn’t get us the first time, they’re going to get us now.’ My husband told me to lock myself in the bathroom with the kids, but the chauffeur’s assistant got down and spoke to the men in the trucks. I don’t know what he told them, but the trucks started up again and drove away. My husband and brother-in-law became very angry with the chauffeur and reprimanded him for stopping and opening the doors for anyone other than the police. The chauffeur claimed he had no choice since the young men had pointed a gun at his head. I felt traumatized that day. Along this journey, you never know the risk you are taking. Our lives don’t matter, but those of our children do. We fight for their lives, not our own.
“From the time I came up to Tijuana, there has been a spike in the number of Salvadorans being kidnapped.” Paola’s sister shared with me that the day after Paola and her family arrived in Tijuana, they saw a massacre reported on the news. The police found the bodies of several migrants chopped up into pieces inside eighteen suitcases after one of the abductees had escaped and alerted police. Paola and her sister are certain the bodies belonged to the migrants abducted from the bus Paola and her family took up to Tijuana the previous night.
“Once we arrived in Tijuana, we faced another challenge. Immigration authorities requested our documents, but they had been taken from me by the cartel. You see, the bag the young man on the bus took from me also had our humanitarian visas and birth certificates. The immigration officers asked us if our bus had been the victim of kidnapping. I answered, ‘Yes,’ and explained that, luckily, only my bag had been taken from me. The immigration officer told me not to worry, as he verified our humanitarian visas in the system. We have yet to request new humanitarian visa cards because our plan was to just stop here temporarily, before jumping the wall.” The phrase “jumping the wall” is used to denote crossing over to the US without proper documentation. “We jumped over the wall but were then returned to Mexico to fight our case from here. Upon arrival back in Mexico, we were provided with permits to reside here until our next court date in the US, which is in November.
“In the meantime, my husband has been working in the same manufacturing company as my sister’s husband. He managed to get that job with the temporary permit we were given and has been there for a month now. I am helping my sister by taking care of both my kids and hers, so she can work, and this way, we all help each other. We were able to find a place to live next to where my sister lives. It costs us 800 MEX ($39.91) a month, plus water and electricity. On top of that, we all need to chip in about MEX 3,000 ($149.68) for our landlord to connect the electric since we currently don’t have a meter and need to get one installed.
“The situation is really difficult, but our idea is to stay here if we are denied entry into the US,” Paola said hesitantly. “We can’t go back to El Salvador. We can’t risk our lives. The gangs will find out if we return. We’ll see what happens.”
Paola and I have remained in touch since our interview. She has reached out to share that her family has struggled with paying the bills. The cold weather, to which her family is not accustomed, has caused her children to become sick. Their lack of access to free health services has further strained her family’s finances. She still hopes to receive good news at her upcoming court hearing.