Under U.S. pressure, Mexico for the first time in many years has launched a broad crackdown on migrants
Amid crackdown, fewer Central American migrants ride Mexican freight trains known as 'the Beast'
Around midnight, armed with flashlights, Mexican immigration agents halted "La Bestia" — the Beast.
"Come down!" "Come over here!" they shouted at the migrants clinging to the top and sides of the freight train.
Some
migrants scrambled, hoping to escape. Most just gave up in the
darkness. The agents wrapped their arms around the migrants' necks and
marched them to a waiting patrol wagon. About 20 were taken into
custody.
Raids like this one last week , frequent and efficient,
are a new phenomenon in Mexico. For a generation, Mexican authorities
took a laissez-faire, if not quite benevolent, approach to the tens of
thousands of Central Americans who cross the nation in hope of reaching
the United States.
Under
U.S. pressure, Mexico for the first time in many years has launched a
wide crackdown on the migrants. More than 60,000 have been deported this
year, as many as half in recent months, the government says.
Immigration
agents backed by federal police and the military are plucking the
travelers from trains and buses in southern Mexico, raiding cheap hotels
and flophouses, capturing as many as they can.
The result is that
the number of migrants heading north has dropped significantly, and
those who do make the perilous journey do so clandestinely, unlike
before. Many walk hundreds of miles, hide in the forests and cower in
the few shelters that will give them protection. The freight trains
known as La Bestia, which just six weeks ago were covered with migrants
clinging to them, now often travel with virtually none.
"We are
being hunted down," said Yovan Estrada, 41, a taxi driver from Puerto
Barrios, Guatemala, who was trying to hop a train in Arriaga, Mexico,
but was afraid to do so. He and his wife, Mercy Maya, 23, had been
sleeping in the woods, drenched by the frequent rain.
"You
have a dream of trying to reach the U.S.," Estrada said alongside the
tracks, where he and a handful of fellow migrants were calculating their
next move. "You have to try. In Guatemala, you can live and eat, but if
you want a roof over your head, a way of life, well, you can't."
They left their toddler son behind, with a grandmother; the day they huddled outside Arriaga, he was marking his third birthday.
Marvin
Corado, 43, and Edgar Castellanos, 28, had walked nearly 200 miles over
eight days to make it from their home in Santa Rosa, Guatemala, to a
shelter in Ixtepec, in Mexico's Oaxaca state.
There, they were
playing checkers with bottle caps and explaining their fear of trying
other modes of transportation, like the train.
"It has gotten very difficult," Corado said. "Our country is beautiful, but people are dying every day."
Luis
Rodriguez, 40, of El Salvador has stayed in the Ixtepec shelter for
months because he considers the risk of being caught while proceeding
north too high. The names of his two daughters, Nathaly and Nancy, are
tattooed on his chest. He left the girls in South Los Angeles, where he
lived for several years; he was deported, and hopes to eventually get
back.
In San Ramon, just north of Arriaga, a clearing in the woods
helps immigration agents carry out raids. With their patrol cars'
sirens blaring and lights flashing, they're able to stop the rambling
train, which flashes its beacons in acknowledgment.
Agents are also stopping and boarding buses headed north, sometimes at temporary migration posts.
On
one such inspection the other day, agents noticed two particularly
nervous-looking men. They ordered them off the bus for questioning.
"Where are you going?" "Where are you from?" "What's the name of your
neighborhood?"
The men shifted and glanced sideways as they answered. The agents let them continue on their way.
The
raids are part of a new and controversial strategy by the government of
President Enrique Peña Nieto, which, bowing to U.S. demands, has
pledged to reduce the flow of Central American migrants through Mexico.
Those demands intensified during the recent surge in unaccompanied
minors arriving at the U.S. border, a flow that has abated somewhat, in
part because of Mexico's effort.
In addition to the deportations,
the government has said it will invest about $80 million to upgrade the
freight trains. Aside from the U.S pressure, Mexico has been embarrassed
by the spectacle of young migrants falling off trains or being booted
off by gangs, often losing limbs in the process.
Authorities
want to increase the trains' speed so migrants will be discouraged from
running alongside and jumping aboard. It's not clear how that will work
given that the trains already have a tendency to derail at slow speeds.
"These
are unprecedented efforts," Sen. Eviel Perez Magaña, who represents
Chiapas state — which includes Arriaga, San Ramon and the border city
Tapachula — said in an interview. "You can't do anything about human
trafficking without addressing the border, which, frankly, has been
abandoned."
Through the so-called Merida program, the United
States has given Mexico millions of dollars to help fortify its southern
border with Guatemala. Mexico did little about it until now.
But
many in Mexico are critical of the policy, accusing the government of,
as one commentator put it, doing the United States' dirty work.
The
many dangers faced by migrants used to come from criminal gangs and
corrupt cops; now those dangers are a matter of state policy, said
Father Alejandro Solalinde, who runs the shelter in Ixtepec and has
emerged as one of the most prominent advocates for the migrants.
"This is all because the United States wants it," he said.
Humberto
Mayans, whom Peña Nieto recently appointed as a kind of czar for the
notoriously porous southern border, defended the new measures and
rejected the notion that Mexico is merely doing the bidding of the
United States.
"It is our law that requires us to safeguard the
human rights and personal integrity of people who enter Mexico, whether
they do so legally or illegally," he told a television interviewer.
The migrants see more persecution that protection, however.
One
town in Oaxaca, just over the state border with Chiapas, is refusing to
go along. In Chahuites, authorities are refusing to detain migrants.
Whether it is from altruism or because people in Oaxaca often tend to
march to their own drummer isn't clear.
"Far from being
immigrants, they are human beings and deserve our support," said Mayor
Jose Antonio Ruiz Santos, adding that he refuses to let federal
immigration agents conduct operations in the city.
It's
a different story in Arriaga, where even cheap hotels are being raided.
Gustavo Velasco, the proprietor of Hotel Arriaga, a stone's throw from
the tracks, said his normally full establishment was dead empty. Isabel
Flores, who runs the nearby Hotel Iris, said she'd been raided twice.
"People
are coming to stay, but with fear," she said. "We hide them, get food
for them, tell them not to stand near the windows."
Curiously,
the crackdown seems fiercest in Arriaga, 150 miles north of the border
with Guatemala, which is formed by the Suchiate River. There, at
Tapachula, scores of people crossed the river on inner-tube rafts,
ignored by oblivious to the formal immigration processing center on a
nearby bridge.
It may be that authorities are reluctant to interfere with the legal and illegal commercial trade that keeps the crossing abuzz.
Israel
Lopez, a Guatemalan who works loading the rafts and guiding passengers
and cargo across the river, said he had heard that the trip north was
getting more difficult, but there had been no interference at his spot.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave a comment-- or suggestions, particularly of topics and places you'd like to see covered