Tormented by uncertainty
Central Americans fear for US remittances as deportations loom
Uncertainty and fear are rising in Central American countries over how many families will manage to get by when remittances from the US are cut off under plans by the Trump administration to make tens of thousands of Salvadorans and Nicaraguans leave.
“I hope the American dream doesn’t end, that it goes on,” said Salvadoran Milagro Bonilla, a resident of the town of San Isidro, where most of the 11,000 inhabitants have risen out of poverty thanks to money sent from relatives living in the US.
The anxiety felt here has surged since January 8, when President Donald Trump’s government said it was ending Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for nearly 200,000 Salvadorans who have lived in the US for years. They risk being deported if they don’t leave by September 9, 2019 or find some alternative way to stay.
Bonilla, 60, works as a cleaner but relies on the money sent by her son Carlos from the US to
pay for costs associated with caring for her 86-year-old mother and her handicapped sister.
“I hope they at least allow him to stay a little longer, because 18 months passes so quickly,” she said.
Carlos, 34, immigrated to the US through a risky overland voyage organized by a “coyote,” also known as a people smuggler, in November 2000.
He subsequently became included in the TPS program which was extended by thenpresident George W. Bush following devastating earthquakes that hit El Salvador, becoming one of thousands of compatriots who had entered the US unconventionally but were allowed to stay there and work.
“Without his [Carlos’] help, I could never get by here, because what I earn alone isn’t enough,” said Bonilla.
In San Isidro, residents who mainly work in the subsistence agriculture industry warn that their country is woefully unprepared to absorb thousands of Salvadorans deported from the US.
“Those who might come because TPS is over are going to find it tough, because
there’s no source of employment, and because they’ll go from earning $12 or $15 an hour to $5 for a day’s farm labor,” cautioned Daysi Moreno from the door of her small grocery store, who has three brothers living in the US.
More than 60 percent of San Isidro natives have immigrated to the US to flee poverty. Today, around 90 percent of the town’s inhabitants receive money from their relatives in the US, far more than the 21 percent who do so nationally, according to Ernesto Romero, a 55-yearold economist who runs a mini-bank dealing with remittances.
The signs of the inflow of money can be seen in the construction of the houses, made of concrete and no longer clay, and the satellite receivers adorning people’s roofs.
Remittances account for a staggering 16 percent of El Salvador’s gross domestic product. Last year, more than $5 billion was received from relatives abroad.
‘Tough’ Trump
El Salvador is not the only Central American country that faces an abrupt change because of adjustments to the US’ TPS program. Nicaraguans have also been told to leave, and Hondurans are expecting a similar decision.
For Rosa Chavez, a 65-yearold housewife in Nicaragua’s capital Managua, the situation is worrying. She depends on the money sent from her two US-resident sons.
“What worries me most is that that man [Trump] is taking drastic measures that are affecting remittances, because the only ones harmed are the ones living here,” she said. “But who is going to correct that man? That man is very tough.”
The end of TPS will impact 5,349 Nicaraguans, according to the US Department for Homeland Security.
They have until January 5, 2019 to leave, secure a different migration status, or be removed.
Around 57,000 Hondurans are anticipating the same fate. In November, the TPS for them was extended by six months, but there is little hope it will be renewed again.
Honduras last year received $4 billion in remittances, a 13 percent increase from the previous year, according to official figures.
Family separation
US migration policies are already dividing Central American families.
Lazaro Villalobos was deported back to Honduras, leaving behind his two sons in the US, aged 14 and 16, and his Mexican wife. Now he works as a motorbike taxi rider in his birth town of Aramecina, south of the capital Tegucigalpa.
“I haven’t been able to see my two sons since June 2016, when they deported me,” Lazaro, 37, said.
He explained that he had lived for 19 years in North Carolina, where he had bought a house and a car workshop which his wife was forced to sell to raise the money for him to remake his life in Honduras.