MONTERREY, Mexico (AP) — Violene Marseille, her husband and two children were on a bus heading north through central Mexico when they received messages warning them their destination on the U.S.-Mexico border was no longer a safe place to cross.
Other Haitians already in Ciudad Acuña and Del Rio, Texas were telling them the U.S. was flying people back to Haiti. That Sunday, more than 320 people were sent Port-au-Prince on three flights.
Stepping off their bus in the bustling station of the northern industrial and transportation hub of Monterrey, Marseille spotted Mexican immigration agents and hurried to the Casa INDI migrant shelter. A trip they had started more than two months earlier in Santiago, Chile was over for now, less than 140 miles (225 kilometers) from the U.S. border.
As U.S. authorities moved out the last of the more than 14,000 migrants gathered beside a border bridge in Del Rio, thousands of other Haitians who were en route to the border from South America were realizing their time window to make it to the United States had closed. So now, as they have done before, they are looking to legalize their status in the countries they find themselves in, get work and wait until the next opportunity to once again head north.
“We spent $4,000, our entire savings, to make it to the United States, but now with what is happening in the United States, it’s better we stay here in Monterrey” in Mexico, Marseille said. “We want to work.”
Marseille arrived in Santiago, Chile in 2016 looking for better opportunities than she found in Haiti. Haiti has experienced a massive outward migration for more than a decade, set off initially by the devastating 2010 earthquake and followed by successive natural disasters, political turmoil and economic stagnation.
Marseille legalized her status in Chile — she still has legal residency — and found a job with a cleaning company that worked in hospitals. She had been a hair stylist in Haiti and her husband John Telisma is a mason. In Chile, they settled in to work, save and raise their family, but eventually making it to the United States was the goal.
A conservative government in Chile made them feel less secure and Marseille saw policy changes she thought could negatively impact them down the road even with their legal status.
So in July, she decided it was time to resume the journey to the U.S. They set out on a voyage by plane, bus and foot that took them through 10 countries, following instructions shared by others via WhatsApp and Facebook.
Like tens of thousands of other migrants this year, they hiked through the treacherous Darien Gap, a dense, lawless jungle that divides Colombia and Panama.
“On the trip they stole my wedding ring,” Marseille said. “I saw how they assaulted girls and women, it was horrible.”