Fear, bribes, gangs, coyotes: A Guatemalan’s trek to the US
MONTERREY, Mexico (AP) — René, a 35-year-old man from Guatemala, stretched and paced inside a Tijuana warehouse as he awaited word that it was time for a three-day hike into California through the nearby mountains.
It would be his second attempt to cross the border illegally in a little over a month. Nearly $20,000 in debt to a series of “coyotes,” or smugglers, he figured if he made it, it would take two years to pay o . If caught and deported, it could take 15 years — if the gangs back home don’t kill him first.
Responding to a wave of Central American migrants and asylum seekers reaching the U.S. border in recent months, the United States and Mexico have tried to stem the flow, slow the pace at which people are allowed to request asylum and discourage others from coming. But tens of thousands are still heading north fleeing violence and poverty.
In the 40 days since he left home, René stayed at cramped safe houses, walked miles of treacherous terrain and rode in a minivan as soldiers gave chase. He paid bribes at checkpoints, watched smugglers deal with crooked cops and huddled fearfully under armed guard in the heart of cartel country.
René is the man’s middle name. The Associated Press is withholding his full identity for his safety because he is still en route and because his story details what is big business for smuggling networks, gangs that run the territory in which they operate and authorities who are often on the take.
René’s trek of more than 3,000 miles (5,000 kilometers) so far is just one of many possible routes and outcomes. But all have elements in common: fear, corruption and cartel involvement. Increasingly too, children are making the treacherous journey.
René and his wife told their daughter, 7, and son, 11, that they were going on a fun trip when they left Guatemala City June 20. But problems began straightaway when a smuggler they paid $1,300 never showed up.
A second one in Malacatan, near Mexico, seemed more trustworthy. He had taken a cousin previously and charged them $5,000 for each adult-child “package,” standard these days for parents who travel with minors and plan to turn themselves in in the U.S. It’s about double that to cross clandestinely.
They began with four others on an eight-hour walk around the Tacana volcano, crossing into Mexico at one of what the country says are over 350 “blind spots” on its 750-mile (1,200-kilometer) southern border, a jungle and mountain region di cult or impossible to secure.
In Chiapas state, a waiting minibus took them a few miles (kilometers) up the road, where they met another minibus. The latter drove ahead to detect checkpoints, since Mexico has boosted police, military and national guard in the area to crack down on migration.
They were stopped twice, but no matter: The smuggler handed each person 2,000 pesos (about $100) to fork over and reminded them what to say to the agents.
“You have to beg them and tell them you’re traveling alone” without a coyote, René said. “More than anything, they like it if you humiliate yourself.”
They continued that way to the Gulf coast state of Veracruz. Rather than making a beeline north in the most direct route to Texas, they turned west. Just before Puebla, to skirt checkpoints, they got out for a six-hour walk across countryside muddied by the rainy season, falling down frequently.
“I threw myself and the kids down where it was sort of like a slide and told them it was an adventure, and they laughed,” René said. “Only my wife and I bore the di culty and the fear.”
In Mexico City, they spent four nights in a 13-by-13-foot (4-by-4-meter) safe house with a single door, no windows and dozens of other people.
They were now being handled by new smugglers who had planned to bus them to the northern city of Monterrey. But a new law bars bus companies from selling tickets without proper IDs. So the group of eight was sent by taxi to the city’s outskirts, where the coyotes stopped a bus and they got on.
“They paid the driver,” René said. “It seemed like they knew him, because here everybody is in the same racket. Everyone asks for money.”
Bus terminals in the north are full of cartel lookouts. Sometimes they just keep an eye on comings and goings. But other times they will brazenly ask migrants where they’re from and whether they have relatives in the United States, demanding to review social media profiles to see whether they’d be worth kidnapping for ransom — an ordeal René’s family was spared.