Venezuelans build home, community in ‘Katy-zuela’
Thousands lured by energy jobs are ‘like family’
When Rafael Nava Aguilar arrived in Houston four years ago, settling west of the city in the suburb of Katy, he was confident of what life there could offer.
Affordable homes. Good schools. And Venezuelan neighbors. Lots of them.
Aguilar now lives in what’s affectionately known as “Katy-zuela.”
Nearly half of the more than 11,000 Venezuelans in Houston live in the 181 square miles that make up Katy.
Many were lured there at the turn of the century by jobs in the energy industry.
In recent years, they’ve faced the challenges of the downturn in the oil business, and they’ve kept a close eye on home, as Venezuela suffers through a catastrophic economic crisis.
Yet they’ve come to
rely on the sense of community they’ve built in Katy, where friends feel more like family.
Maria Romero Urbaez moved to Katy in 2001 with her husband and two children after first leaving Venezuela for Weston, Fla., in 1998. The family picked the suburb after hearing positive reviews on the school district.
Romero Urbaez remembers the population of Venezuelans being so small then that everybody knew each other.
At first, Romero Urbaez took her daughter, Maria Fernanda Urbaez, to a dance studio in Richmond. There, she met other Venezuelans from Katy who yearned for a studio closer to home.
Venezuelans in and around Katy started calling each other about the idea. It snowballed from there.
Five months after the family arrived, Romero Urbaez opened the Danmar Art and Dance Studio, training students in traditional Spanish dances like the flamenco and educating people about the culture.
“It was one of the first places (in Katy) where Venezuelans could meet and eventually become friends,” she said. “Our dance studio helps Venezuelans to hold on to their roots, and it also shows their roots to other people.”
Venezuelan migration coincided with the presidency of Hugo Chavez, an embattled figure who led the South American country from 1999 until his death in 2013.
Venezuela has the world’s richest oil reserves, and many who worked at oil companies there found jobs with Houston firms. Katy, directly west of the area’s Energy Corridor, became a natural fit.
It also was desirable because of its recognized school district. Fifty-two percent of Venezuelan immigrants in the U.S. are college-educated, according to the Migration Policy Institute, a higher percentage than from any other South American nation.
With time, an intricate network formed between Venezuelans in Katy, thriving through social media, get-togethers and other connections. Venezuelan restaurants and other businesses also began rising. The nickname was born, though no one seems quite sure who to credit.
Around 2007, a company named MiCarga Houston opened in the suburb to offer shipping services for Venezuelans sending packages to friends and family back home.
By 2011, Naida Givvon had founded the annual Venezuelan festival at Katy’s Southwest Equestrian Center, so her countrymen could mingle, eat and dance. The fall festival is now attended by up to 15,000 people.
Givvon relishes seeing nonVenezuelans embracing her culture, as well as the relationships that are formed. On occasion, Venezuelans who lost touch with friends after moving to the U.S. are reunited.
“What makes Venezuelans different to me is that everyone treats each other like family. They call each other ‘brother’ and ‘cousin’ even if they are just friends,” Givvon said. “No matter what is happening, I think there is always a positive spirit about Venezuelans.”
By the time Aguilar and his family arrived in Houston, Katyzuela had given the suburb’s Venezuelan population a way to describe their community within a community.
The family was moving from Calgary, Canada, after first leaving Venezuela in 2007 when Aguilar, an engineer, was hired by Chevron. Aguilar’s friends advised him to settle in Katy, and like many Venezuelans there, the family chose to live in Cinco Ranch, a master-planned community equipped with parks and a mix-use shopping center.
Aguilar’s network quickly grew, sprouting to more than 100 other Venezuelans he knows in just Cinco Ranch.
“They are there like family — you can count on them. We help each other out,” he said. “It’s just a great experience to be close to our culture. That’s the most important thing.”
Each month, Aguilar and his friends meet at a small park steps from his home to eat Venezuelan cuisine and socialize. Mostly, they catch up on how each other’s families are and talk about news from Venezuela, as well as past lives there. Sometimes, after their food has settled, they split into teams to play soccer or baseball.
They also enjoy eating out, with five Venezuelan eateries found near Westheimer Road by Cinco Ranch.
One is Nere Express, a restaurant that Venezuelan Nereida Delgado opened recently about 3 miles north of the neighborhood.
On a weekday afternoon, Rixio Medema sat with his wife, father and mother, eating slow-cooked pork, rice and a creamy potato soup. The 63-year-old is from Cabimas, a coastal city in northern Venezuela.
“We know so many Venezuelans here — friends, family, cousins — a lot of people,” Medema said.
Medema left Venezuela in 1990 to work for Mobil Oil in Illinois. He later joined Citgo Petroleum Corp. and first came to the Houston area in 2004 when the company moved its headquarters here. After most recently living in Corpus Christi, he and his wife moved to Katy three months ago to live close to their adult daughter, and Medema now works for an organization that certifies safety professionals.
The oil companies drove the Venezuelan influx, Medema said. And from there, he said, “it’s grown incredibly.”
“Venezuelans began coming not only from Venezuela, but from places like Florida.”
When Aguilar left Venezuela, he saw a country faltering. Recently, he’s had to witness from afar as the nation has almost totally collapsed.
Food and medical shortages have left grocery store shelves empty and hospitals without enough supplies to treat the ill. Inflation hit 800 percent by December and is predicted to continue rising.
Economists lay much of the blame on Chavez.
He instituted price controls and nationalized private business.
He also used oil money and foreign debt to fund subsidies to Venezuelans.
The rift in the economy has only worsened since his death.
The drop in oil prices has been crushing for a country that depends on exports.
By August 2016, U.S. asylum applications filed by Venezuelans had jumped 168 percent compared to the previous year, according to the Pew Research Center.
But the U.S. Citizen and Immigration Service reported last year that overall asylum cases were backlogged by about 100,000.
The chaotic situation in Venezuela — and the energy industry’s downturn — recently has brought a more diversified group of Venezuelan professionals to Houston. Some don’t have the means to live in a place like Katy.
The newcomers are more desperate and without much money, said Lisbeth Canga, who with her husband, Humberto Tancredi, established an organization called Apoyate Venezuela in 2015. They now help about 10 families a month by connecting them to services such as Spanish-speaking Realtors or immigration lawyers.
Canga and Tancredi are living under political asylum because, as journalists in Venezuela, they had been persecuted.
“We know what it’s like to be an immigrant,” Canga said.
Yuliana Rodriguez is a 33-yearold who emigrated with her 10-year-old daughter from Monagas, a city in northeast Venezuela, to Houston last year.
Rodriguez left Venezuela on a travel visa. As a schoolteacher there, she had hoped to obtain a work visa once she got here and find a job with a local school district.
But she’s remained jobless, and she and her daughter have had to live with family in northwest Houston. She recently applied for political asylum.
“I grew up in a very different Venezuela, where there was peace,” she said. “But it’s not the same Venezuela. Now, everyone keeps their doors shut. Nobody goes out. People don’t even go to the movies because it’s a risk.”
In Katy, Aguilar has seen some friends leave in the past two years after being laid off from oil companies. He feared for his own job but made it through a round of cuts at Chevron.
Each month, Aguilar sends money to his mom, who lives in Maracaibo, a coastal city in northwest Venezuela, and uses the cash to buy imported food from Colombia that is upcharged because of Venezuela’s food crisis. Without the extra money, Aguilar said, his mom would not survive. His story is not unique.
Now more than ever, Katy-zuelans need each other.
That bond, created by common experiences and cultural ties, is in evidence each Sunday at St. Faustina Catholic Church, a few miles from Cinco Ranch.
The 1 p.m. Spanish service draws thousands.
On a recent Sunday, hymns played as the congregation held hands and prayed and stood to sing with each other, echoing words of hope and resilience.
“We don’t feel like strangers here, nor like immigrants,” said Aguilar, who sat next to his wife and two sons in the second row.
Once the service ended, many stayed — chatting, hugging and laughing with each other.
Aguilar found a pair of Venezuelan friends who greeted him with warm smiles.
Just weeks ago, the church moved from Katy ISD’s Joe Hubenak Elementary School, where it had operated for years. Its new building has room for 1,600.
It’s become one of the places that threads Katy’s Venezuelan population together.
It’s not the same as being back home, Aguilar said.
But it’s close enough.