11:08 pm - February 25, 2025
Sister Maria Tello Claro, the director of Casa del Migrante, a shelter in Mexico near the US-Mexico border, has witnessed a profound shift in the mood among the migrants and asylum seekers she serves. Since the inauguration of former US President Donald Trump, the atmosphere at the shelter has transformed from one of cautious hope to overwhelming sadness and anguish. Casa del Migrante, designed to accommodate 170 people, is currently housing 190 migrants, primarily from Honduras, Venezuela, El Salvador, and Haiti. These individuals have fled their home countries in search of safety and a better life, only to find themselves trapped in a precarious limbo, unsure of what the future holds.
Many of the shelter’s residents, including migrants like Martino and Alvarado, have endured unimaginable hardships during their journeys to the border. Sister Tello has observed that kidnapping is a constant and ever-present danger for migrants in the region. “Here it is dangerous because they can be kidnapped. In fact, they are being kidnapped,” she explained. Despite these risks, Tello emphasizes that many migrants have no other choice but to continue their journey. “Where are they going to go? Some of them cannot return to their countries,” she said. For those fleeing violence, persecution, or extreme poverty, the option of returning home is often nonexistent. Yet, the uncertainty of their fate at the US-Mexico border has left many feeling hopeless and trapped.
The situation at Casa del Migrante has been further complicated by the US government’s decision to pause foreign aid spending for 90 days. This policy has severely impacted the shelter’s ability to meet the needs of the migrants and asylum seekers it serves. Sister Tello explained that the shelter relies on support from nongovernmental organizations, but many of these groups have seen their budgets dry up as a result of the aid freeze. Casa del Migrante has already lost one of its two volunteer counseling psychologists, leaving the remaining staff overwhelmed and struggling to provide the necessary care. Tello and her colleagues have held several meetings with other shelters in the area to discuss how to address these challenges, but they remain uncertain about the best course of action. “We go day by day,” she said, underscoring the sense of uncertainty and vulnerability that pervades the shelter.
Among the asylum seekers stranded at the border is Johanna Ovando, a 31-year-old woman from El Salvador. Ovando fled her home country with her husband, two children, and mother after becoming increasingly fearful for the safety of her eldest son, who had just turned 10. In El Salvador, gangs often target boys around this age for recruitment, and Ovando knew that her son’s life was at risk if they remained. However, the Salvadoran government’s heavy-handed response to gang violence, which has resulted in widespread human rights abuses, only heightened the dangers of staying. Faced with no other options, Ovando made the difficult decision to leave her homeland and seek safety in the United States. Yet, now that she and her family are stuck at the border, she cannot help but wonder if she made the right choice. Life in Mexico has been fraught with discrimination, abuse, and extortion, and Ovando is constantly on guard against the threat of sex trafficking. “There is sex trafficking, and one walks with the fear of persecution,” she said. While she acknowledges that the dangers in Mexico are real, she also feels a deep sense of loss and disillusionment. “It is the same over there, but it is our country,” she added, comparing the dangers she faces in Mexico to those she left behind in El Salvador. Ovando has decided to stay at a shelter in Matamoros for one more month, hoping that the asylum process will resume. If it does not, she and her family will have no choice but to leave. “We cannot stay here,” she said. “It’s very insecure.”
For others, like Martino, returning to their home country is not an option. Despite the immense challenges he has faced on his journey, Martino remains determined to find a better future for himself. “Patience runs out, hope ends, and many things must be taken into account,” he said. “But calmly, with patience and a lot of faith, we put everything in God’s hands.” Yet, Martino is also acutely aware that his fate is ultimately in the hands of US President Donald Trump. As the Trump administration continues to implement policies that make it more difficult for asylum seekers to gain entry into the United States, Martino and others like him are left in a state of limbo, unsure of what the future holds. “Donald Trump also has to give answers,” Martino said, expressing the deep sense of uncertainty and vulnerability that pervades the lives of those stranded at the border.
The stories of Sister Maria Tello Claro, Johanna Ovando, and Martino paint a vivid picture of the human cost of the current immigration policies and the complexities of the migrant crisis at the US-Mexico border. These individuals, like so many others, are caught in a cycle of uncertainty and danger, unable to move forward or go back. Their experiences highlight the urgent need for compassionate and sustainable solutions that prioritize the safety, dignity, and well-being of those seeking refuge. As the situation continues to unfold, it remains to be seen whether the US government will provide the answers that Martino and so many others are desperately seeking. Until then, they remain in a fragile and precarious state, their lives hanging in the balance.