Thursday, June 30, 2011
Unpaid hospital bill leads to deportation
Check out my post on the Physicians for Human Rights (PHR) website! http://physiciansforhumanrights.org/blog/unpaid-hospital-bill-leads-to-deportation.html
Deported for Crossing the Street
It was a hot night in Texas. Edwin and his cousin were on a misión to top off a hard day of work with some Mexican tacos. They parked on the opposite side of the highway from the taco stand and started to cross the street on foot. However, when they were halfway across, the “Do Not Walk” sign started to flash. They quickly ran across the highway, barely escaping being hit by an oncoming car. The two young men, both immigrants from small towns in Honduras, each breathed a sigh of relief.
But they weren´t as safe as they though. After walking just a few more feet down the road, Edwin and his cousin were stopped by a police officer. “You just crossed the road when the light was red,” he reprimanded them in Spanish, “Show me your papers!” Edwin quickly obliged, pulling out his wallet and handing it to the police officer. When the officer saw that he was Honduran, and didn´t carry a green card or some other form of authorization to be in the US, he angrily snapped at Edwin, “You don`t deserve to be in this country. You´re going to be deported!”
From there, the police officer took Edwin to the precinct office and threw him into a room “as cold as a freezer,” where Edwin sat and shivered for two days as his paperwork was processed until Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) came to pick him up and bring him to the detention facility. Edwin didn´t want to stay there any longer than necessary, so he opted to sign his own deportation. He was held there for two months before being sent back to Honduras. This type of police-ICE collaboration has become increasingly common in recent years, as programs such as 287(g) and Secure Communities are promoted by the US Department of Homeland Security. The minimal legal support that Edwin received on the status of his case is also surprisingly common. Even though later on an immigration official told Edwin he shouldn´t have been arrested for such a little transgression in the first place, it was too late to challenge his case because he had already signed his deportation.
At this point, Edwin has been back in Honduras for about 2 years. He´s tried to make the trip back to the US twice, but first was deported at the border and then he was robbed and almost kidnapped by gang members in Mexico. He hasn´t been able to find anything but day jobs in Honduras, and spends most of the day sitting around in the hammock at his mother-in-law´s house. He wonders how he will be able to make enough money to pay back his debts from his trips northward and also be able to cover food for the household, a home for his family, and the education of his two young songs. Edwin often thinks about emigrating again, despite the dangers for migrants in Mexico and the 10 year bar of entry he received from US immigration authorities last time he was deported.
Rocking slowly in the hammock, reflecting on his experiences in the US, Edwin suddenly gets pensive. “Sometimes,” he tells me, “I think it would have been better if I had just stayed in the middle of the street that day when I was crossing, and let one of those cars hit me. I would have probably ended up in some hospital, all beaten up and bruised, but I don´t think that policeman would have worried about me anymore. If I had just let myself get hit by that car, I would still be in the United States, doing something with my life.”
But they weren´t as safe as they though. After walking just a few more feet down the road, Edwin and his cousin were stopped by a police officer. “You just crossed the road when the light was red,” he reprimanded them in Spanish, “Show me your papers!” Edwin quickly obliged, pulling out his wallet and handing it to the police officer. When the officer saw that he was Honduran, and didn´t carry a green card or some other form of authorization to be in the US, he angrily snapped at Edwin, “You don`t deserve to be in this country. You´re going to be deported!”
From there, the police officer took Edwin to the precinct office and threw him into a room “as cold as a freezer,” where Edwin sat and shivered for two days as his paperwork was processed until Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) came to pick him up and bring him to the detention facility. Edwin didn´t want to stay there any longer than necessary, so he opted to sign his own deportation. He was held there for two months before being sent back to Honduras. This type of police-ICE collaboration has become increasingly common in recent years, as programs such as 287(g) and Secure Communities are promoted by the US Department of Homeland Security. The minimal legal support that Edwin received on the status of his case is also surprisingly common. Even though later on an immigration official told Edwin he shouldn´t have been arrested for such a little transgression in the first place, it was too late to challenge his case because he had already signed his deportation.
At this point, Edwin has been back in Honduras for about 2 years. He´s tried to make the trip back to the US twice, but first was deported at the border and then he was robbed and almost kidnapped by gang members in Mexico. He hasn´t been able to find anything but day jobs in Honduras, and spends most of the day sitting around in the hammock at his mother-in-law´s house. He wonders how he will be able to make enough money to pay back his debts from his trips northward and also be able to cover food for the household, a home for his family, and the education of his two young songs. Edwin often thinks about emigrating again, despite the dangers for migrants in Mexico and the 10 year bar of entry he received from US immigration authorities last time he was deported.
Rocking slowly in the hammock, reflecting on his experiences in the US, Edwin suddenly gets pensive. “Sometimes,” he tells me, “I think it would have been better if I had just stayed in the middle of the street that day when I was crossing, and let one of those cars hit me. I would have probably ended up in some hospital, all beaten up and bruised, but I don´t think that policeman would have worried about me anymore. If I had just let myself get hit by that car, I would still be in the United States, doing something with my life.”
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
El Vuelo del Angel
They call it “El Vuelo del Ángel” (the Flight of the Angel) – the plain white, unmarked plane that strikes ground on a separate landing strip at the International Airport of San Pedro Sula, Honduras. But this flight isn´t like the ones that bring tourists and missionaries and rich “paisanos” to Honduran soil. This plane is carrying Honduran deportees from the United States.
Soon after the plane lands, a luxury bus pulls up to the Center of Attention for the Returned Migrant (CAMR), and the deportees disembark. They are led into a big room with plastic chairs and bright blue walls, where they are given a cup of coffee and a fresh baleada, the traditional bean-filled tortilla of Honduras. They are greeted with the cheery words of a CAMR worker over the loudspeaker, “Bienvenidos” – Welcome to Honduras! Next, the worker proceeds to read off the names of people who have to pick up medicines or their box of personal belongings. The deportees sit and wait for their names, getting up periodically to get a glass of water, or chat amongst each other. One woman explains to the woman sitting next to her, “Wow, I haven´t had a baleada for three years!”
In the room at the front of the building, a family anxiously waits for their daughter to finish the paperwork and be able to leave with them. The grandmother wrings her hands, wondering if the webpage announcement about the day of the deportation was actually correct. The brother, who is waiting outside and has peeked into the room where the deportees are waiting, bangs on the glass door of the room excitedly. “I saw her, I saw her!” he exclaims.
Once the announcements and the distribution of personal belongings is complete, the deportees are led into the adjacent room where a team of volunteers, mostly Honduran university and high school students, helps each of them fill out a short form with basic questions about the circumstances of their deportations. Both the questions and answers are short and to the point. “Do you have children that you left behind in the US?” I ask one man from La Ceiba. “Yes, three,” he tells me. “What was the reason for your deportation?” I ask another man, from Tegucigalpa. “Well, they picked me up in the Greyhound bus station,” he says. And when I ask a third man, “How did US immigration authorities treat you?” He quickly exclaims, “Terribly, terribly!” Oh okay. On to the next question...
The line to get everyone registered and out the door is long. Today, 83 men and 11 women arrived on the plane, coming from detention centers in Florida. Three flights with approximately 100 people each arrive here to San Pedro Sula each week, and another three or four land weekly in the airport of Tegucigalpa. Last year, over 25,000 Hondurans were deported from the US. This makes up more than 1/15 of the 392,000 total immigrants sent to their home countries from the US last year. The numbers of total deportations has increased dramatically in the US in the past two years. However, it´s important to note that the majority of Hondurans who are deported have not been convicted of any crime. For every 1 Honduran who is sent to their home country with a criminal charge, 4.5 are deported on the grounds of unauthorized entry or their undocumented status.
After the volunteers finish registering all of the deportees, they are let out of the front room to reunite with their families that are waiting for them, make phone calls to try to get a ride, or wait for the bus that will take them to the bus terminal. One woman with corn rows calls repeatedly on the phone CAMR provides. No answer. She fiddles with the green striped bracelet on her hand – a souvenir from the detention facility. The men outside have already taken off their bracelets. One man pulls his hand out of his pocket and opens it to reveal some nickels and pennies left over from the journey. He takes a swig of his soda and throws them into the dry dirt.
Soon after the plane lands, a luxury bus pulls up to the Center of Attention for the Returned Migrant (CAMR), and the deportees disembark. They are led into a big room with plastic chairs and bright blue walls, where they are given a cup of coffee and a fresh baleada, the traditional bean-filled tortilla of Honduras. They are greeted with the cheery words of a CAMR worker over the loudspeaker, “Bienvenidos” – Welcome to Honduras! Next, the worker proceeds to read off the names of people who have to pick up medicines or their box of personal belongings. The deportees sit and wait for their names, getting up periodically to get a glass of water, or chat amongst each other. One woman explains to the woman sitting next to her, “Wow, I haven´t had a baleada for three years!”
In the room at the front of the building, a family anxiously waits for their daughter to finish the paperwork and be able to leave with them. The grandmother wrings her hands, wondering if the webpage announcement about the day of the deportation was actually correct. The brother, who is waiting outside and has peeked into the room where the deportees are waiting, bangs on the glass door of the room excitedly. “I saw her, I saw her!” he exclaims.
Once the announcements and the distribution of personal belongings is complete, the deportees are led into the adjacent room where a team of volunteers, mostly Honduran university and high school students, helps each of them fill out a short form with basic questions about the circumstances of their deportations. Both the questions and answers are short and to the point. “Do you have children that you left behind in the US?” I ask one man from La Ceiba. “Yes, three,” he tells me. “What was the reason for your deportation?” I ask another man, from Tegucigalpa. “Well, they picked me up in the Greyhound bus station,” he says. And when I ask a third man, “How did US immigration authorities treat you?” He quickly exclaims, “Terribly, terribly!” Oh okay. On to the next question...
The line to get everyone registered and out the door is long. Today, 83 men and 11 women arrived on the plane, coming from detention centers in Florida. Three flights with approximately 100 people each arrive here to San Pedro Sula each week, and another three or four land weekly in the airport of Tegucigalpa. Last year, over 25,000 Hondurans were deported from the US. This makes up more than 1/15 of the 392,000 total immigrants sent to their home countries from the US last year. The numbers of total deportations has increased dramatically in the US in the past two years. However, it´s important to note that the majority of Hondurans who are deported have not been convicted of any crime. For every 1 Honduran who is sent to their home country with a criminal charge, 4.5 are deported on the grounds of unauthorized entry or their undocumented status.
After the volunteers finish registering all of the deportees, they are let out of the front room to reunite with their families that are waiting for them, make phone calls to try to get a ride, or wait for the bus that will take them to the bus terminal. One woman with corn rows calls repeatedly on the phone CAMR provides. No answer. She fiddles with the green striped bracelet on her hand – a souvenir from the detention facility. The men outside have already taken off their bracelets. One man pulls his hand out of his pocket and opens it to reveal some nickels and pennies left over from the journey. He takes a swig of his soda and throws them into the dry dirt.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Solidarity Across Borders: From Honduras to Massachusetts
This past Sunday, in El Progreso Honduras, members of COFAMIPRO, a local migrant rights committee made up of the family members of people from the region that have emigrated to the US, went to the airwaves with their weekly radio program. They informed the public about the latest immigration news and repeated their demand that the governments of Central and North America institute policies to protect the rights of migrants in the region.
The next day, in Boston Masssachusetts, members of the Student Immigrant Movement and their allies set up a 24-hour vigil in front of the Massachusetts State house, demanding respect for the rights of immigrants in the Commonwealth and an end to a series of anti-immigrant amendments recently passed in the state legislature.
Although these two struggles are thousands of miles apart, they are inextricably linked. Ever since 1999, COFAMIUPRO has fought for human rights protections of their family members who have left home in search of the so-called “American Dream.” Migrants endure a dangerous and difficult journey to get to the US and those who do make it are met with low-paying jobs, poor and cramped living conditions, limited access to medical care, and racism. The family members left behind suffer from the strain of familial separation, stress of uncertain income (since many depend on remittance money for their survival), and the fear of the dangers their loved ones will encounter away from home.
The members of COFAMIPRO know full well that anti-immigrant laws and punitive treatment of immigrants has negative effects, not just on immigrants and the communities where they live in the US, but also on the family members back home in sending communities. One member told me that the discrimination her son experienced when he got to the US led to his developing mental health issues and eventual alcohol addiction. Now, this mother struggles to get by every day because her son no longer sends money, and she worries every day about his well being. Another member told me that her son was in detention for months after crossing the border, and that he was mistreated and raped by other detainees. Eventually he was released, but he developed serious mental health issues so once he started making a little bit of money, he spent it all on alcohol to self-medicate. This mother also suffers daily from anxiety over her sons condition.
Of course, most COFAMIPRO members would prefer that their children never traveled to the US in the first place - they would rather avoid the stress and sadness of family separation. However, these parents also understand that economic opportunities in their country are extremely limited, and they know they cannot stop their children from leaving if that is their decision. What they do demand, however, is that their children are consistently treated with dignity and respect, wherever they are found. In recent years, COFAMIPRO has taken this message directly to authorities in the US, holding protests in front of the US Embassy in Honduras to demand immigration reform and fair treatment of immigrants.
In this same spirit, COFAMIPRO would like to send a message to the legislators of Massachusetts, urging them to respect the human rights of our sons, daughters, and grandchildren by opposing the anti-immigrant amendments in the Commonwealth. We also send a message of solidarity to the immigrant rights advocates who are fighting the good fight in Massachusetts. We are with you in spirit, and appreciate the work that you do to protect the dignity of our children in the US and the well-being of our families.
The next day, in Boston Masssachusetts, members of the Student Immigrant Movement and their allies set up a 24-hour vigil in front of the Massachusetts State house, demanding respect for the rights of immigrants in the Commonwealth and an end to a series of anti-immigrant amendments recently passed in the state legislature.
Although these two struggles are thousands of miles apart, they are inextricably linked. Ever since 1999, COFAMIUPRO has fought for human rights protections of their family members who have left home in search of the so-called “American Dream.” Migrants endure a dangerous and difficult journey to get to the US and those who do make it are met with low-paying jobs, poor and cramped living conditions, limited access to medical care, and racism. The family members left behind suffer from the strain of familial separation, stress of uncertain income (since many depend on remittance money for their survival), and the fear of the dangers their loved ones will encounter away from home.
The members of COFAMIPRO know full well that anti-immigrant laws and punitive treatment of immigrants has negative effects, not just on immigrants and the communities where they live in the US, but also on the family members back home in sending communities. One member told me that the discrimination her son experienced when he got to the US led to his developing mental health issues and eventual alcohol addiction. Now, this mother struggles to get by every day because her son no longer sends money, and she worries every day about his well being. Another member told me that her son was in detention for months after crossing the border, and that he was mistreated and raped by other detainees. Eventually he was released, but he developed serious mental health issues so once he started making a little bit of money, he spent it all on alcohol to self-medicate. This mother also suffers daily from anxiety over her sons condition.
Of course, most COFAMIPRO members would prefer that their children never traveled to the US in the first place - they would rather avoid the stress and sadness of family separation. However, these parents also understand that economic opportunities in their country are extremely limited, and they know they cannot stop their children from leaving if that is their decision. What they do demand, however, is that their children are consistently treated with dignity and respect, wherever they are found. In recent years, COFAMIPRO has taken this message directly to authorities in the US, holding protests in front of the US Embassy in Honduras to demand immigration reform and fair treatment of immigrants.
In this same spirit, COFAMIPRO would like to send a message to the legislators of Massachusetts, urging them to respect the human rights of our sons, daughters, and grandchildren by opposing the anti-immigrant amendments in the Commonwealth. We also send a message of solidarity to the immigrant rights advocates who are fighting the good fight in Massachusetts. We are with you in spirit, and appreciate the work that you do to protect the dignity of our children in the US and the well-being of our families.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Listen to COFAMIPRO on the radio!
Every Sunday for the past 12 years, COFAMIPRO has broadcasted their message to the El Progreso community through their radio program “Abriendo Fronteras” (Opening Borders). The program includes themes related to migration, testimonies from local people, and songs related to migration.
Join us on Sundays at 2:30 pm for the program streaming online! (Spanish only) The theme of the day for this week, June 19th, will be “the loss of culture” of Honduran emigrants. I might even be making a special appearance (if they manage to convince me!)
ABRIENDO FRONTERAS
Sundays at 2:30pm EST
To listen click: http://radioprogresohn.com/contentrp/ and follow the link where it says “En Vivo.” You might have to click where it says Internet Explorer to let you stream online.
Hope you can make it. And let me know what you think!
Join us on Sundays at 2:30 pm for the program streaming online! (Spanish only) The theme of the day for this week, June 19th, will be “the loss of culture” of Honduran emigrants. I might even be making a special appearance (if they manage to convince me!)
ABRIENDO FRONTERAS
Sundays at 2:30pm EST
To listen click: http://radioprogresohn.com/contentrp/ and follow the link where it says “En Vivo.” You might have to click where it says Internet Explorer to let you stream online.
Hope you can make it. And let me know what you think!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
El Progreso Awaits
This summer I will be setting off on a new journey to El Progreso, Honduras, to work with a migrant rights group based there. COFAMIPRO organizes Honduran families to fight for policy changes that protect the human rights of Central Americans during their journey to the US. They also offer support and assistance to family members of migrants. Read more about the organization here.
I'm looking forward to this opportunity to learn more about the impact of US and Mexican immigration policies on Honduran families. I'm certain that I will be challenged and will learn a ton from everyone around me.
I hope you will join me! I will be publishing weekly posts with news about my experiences and the situation in El Progreso. Sign up to follow the blog, or check back regularly.
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