Instead, she’d send whispered messages via WhatsApp. While on the road, she wasn’t allowed to make phone calls. Benjamín had to throw away some clothes: laundry wasn’t an option. The coyote, who helps move migrants illegally across borders, charged her $3,800-a major expense but one that was worth it for her. Benjamín herself hopped on a bus with only $200 for food, three outfits, a towel, and a blanket. doesn’t deter anyone from taking the risk. But this punitive, unforgiving immigration strategy on the part of the U.S. Migrants can wind up stranded near the U.S.-Mexico border if they don’t have enough money to cross-or if the U.S. when they leave their borders-or that they’ll easily return home should they fail. There’s no guarantee migrants will successfully make it into the U.S. The 2020 hurricane season was the disaster to top them all. First, came President Daniel Ortega, a politician with a history of violence against the Miskito. They have to search for a life beyond disaster, which seems never-ending these days. Like Benjamín, they leave behind their families, their culture, and potentially even their freedom. When the means run out at home, many in Central America are forced to look beyond their borders. The climate disaster isn’t only a crisis of our planet and its weather it’s also a crisis of our people and their wherewithal. She’s one of many: over 74,000 Nicaraguans left the country in 2020. “He’d get sick, and we don’t even have water to make his bottle.”Īnd, now, her children will be staying in the city full-time. So Benjamín, a single mom, leaves her kids in Puerto Cabezas, where they stay with her sister. There’s one just a few feet in front of Benjamín’s place-her two-year-old almost drowned in it last year. Plus, pools of water have formed around the village where the hurricane bore down and ate through the land. Now, nothing is.”īenjamín’s four children are another story. “We used to be good,” said Benjamín in Spanish as her Rottweiler puppy playfully tugged on her hair, a single dark long braid that she stroked as she recalled her old life. Benjamín sat outside the simple wooden shack her family now calls home, pointing to the remnants unflinchingly. Two weeks later, Hurricane Iota left it unrecognizable. Now, all that’s left of that house is chunks of debris. The house’s four bedrooms were enough for everyone to live comfortably. It was built to last, even running on a solar panel that kept their home bright when night would fall. It was pink and white and made out of concrete. Her mother and father spent about $10,000 over two years building their perfect beachside home. Hurricanes Eta and Iota tore through the town and other surrounding Miskito communities over a year ago, bringing enough force to flatten the beach, the church, the clinic, and people’s homes.Īdaluz Benjamín, 33-who is using a different name to protect her identity and family from the Nicaraguan government-has lived in Haulover for almost all her life. If the boat ride is hot, well, Haulover is hellish. They provided essential shade, as well as food. In Haulover, where about 1,300 Miskito live right along the Caribbean Sea, thousands of coconut trees used to dot the beach. The real ruin lies among the communities themselves. The sight is startling, but it’s only the beginning. When they head in and out of Puerto Cabezas-where some go for medical assistance and pantry items like rice and sugar-it’s a one- or two-day event.Īlong the way, you’d be remiss not to notice the cemetery of trees that sit gray where there was once a vibrant green forest. The only ones who really ever make this expedition are Miskito, members of one of Nicaragua’s Indigenous groups, but most don’t have access to motorboats, which would reduce the trip to a few hours. At least the voyage includes views of elegant white egrets and speedy black swallows. From Puerto Cabezas-a city home to a largely Indigenous community of more than 127,000 -the ride can take up to eight hours. You sit in the boat, sweat trickling down your back, fidgeting to find comfort until you reach your destination. On the water, there’s no escape from the sun’s heat. You can’t walk or drive you have to travel by boat. The journey to Haulover, Nicaragua, is grueling.
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