One of those speed boats zipped through dense jungle-cloaked rivers near the Colombia-Panama border on Sunday, headed south. Inside were around 20 migrants clinging to their backpacks and shielding themselves from the water's spray.
Giving up after Trump's crackdown
Many of those same people waited months, sometimes more than year in Mexico to get an asylum appointment in the U.S. through a Biden-era CBP One app, which ended under Trump.
" When Trump arrived and eliminated the application (CBP One) all our hopes went up in smoke," said Karla Castillo, a 36-year-old Venezuelan traveling with her younger sister.
It's part of what authorities call a “reverse flow” of migrants. The speed boats depart from a rural swathe of Panama and cross the seas in packs, hopping island to island until they reach the northern tip of Colombia.
The boats were part of a well oiled migrant smuggling machine that once raked in money from the steady flow of hundreds of thousands of people headed north nearly a year ago.
The boat route, which crosses through Indigenous Guna Yala lands, was once part of what smugglers called the VIP route, in which migrants paid more so they wouldn't have to take the deadly trek through the Darien Gap.
But now that much of the Darien’s migrant smuggling industry has collapsed, some smugglers are taking advantage of the reverse migration to charge steep costs to migrants – between $200 and $250 per person, including minors – for the boat rides.
Paying via Zelle and other money-transfer apps, for many it was the the last of their money, after having spent almost everything in pursuit of their American dream.
A ‘reverse flow’ of migrants
Castillo was plagued with “mixed feelings” traveling backward. She was part of a mass migration from crisis-stricken Venezuela, fleeing to other Andean nations like Chile, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and more before deciding to travel to the U.S.
She lived five years in Chile, a country that has gradually closed its doors to Venezuelan migrants, before she decided to risk her life traveling through the Darien Gap and hopping country-to-country until she reached southern Mexico.
In early February, she and her sister decided to give up when they realized they lost their chance at legally seeking asylum in the U.S. But she was anxious to return home to her four children and mother, who sent her some money to get home which she raised from a raffle, she said, sitting in front of a blaring music with other migrants while she waited for a boat.
“Supposedly (the music) is to lighten the mood, but nothing takes away the gloom," she said.
It’s unclear exactly how many people cross through the boat route daily, but for weeks, large groups, including several hundred from mainly Venezuela and Colombia, have been flocking to the area, where Indigenous laws govern. They’re offered overnight stays and sea transfers.
That falls in line with figures offered by neighboring Costa Rica, which says it’s seen between 50 and 75 people crossing through their country going south every day. Though it’s just a drop in a bucket to figures seen a year ago, when the government said it saw thousands of migrants headed north daily.
A dangerous journey
Some of the migrants waiting for their boat back to Colombia said they refused to return to Venezuela after the country’s recent elections, which have fueled democratic alarm and violence. They’d rather struggle in the same economic and legal precarity they faced for years in other countries, which have long pleaded with the international community for more funds to take on the migratory crisis.
“There's no way I'm going back to Venezuela. There are many of us that don't want to go back. They are going to Peru, Ecuador, Colombia. Just like before," said Celia Alcala as she waited to board a boat.
But the boat rides can also be deadly. There's little police presence at the checkpoints, despite Panamanian authorities saying that boat captains have to follow security measures.
On Friday, one boat disregarded a warning of heavy swells, capsizing while it was carrying 21 people, 19 of them migrants, off the coast of Panama. It claimed the life of one 8-year-old Venezuelan child, according to authorities.
The death fueled concern among many waiting for their boats, like Venezuelan Juan Luis Guedez, who was returning with his wife and daughter from southern Mexico.
After leaving Chile, where he lived for eight years after fleeing Venezuela, the family waited four months for an asylum appointment, hoping to reunite with family in the U.S.
“I don’t know if we will get there alive, but if we make it, the idea is to go back to Chile. My daughter was born there," he said.
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Megan Janetsky contributed to this report from Mexico City. Zamorano reported from Panama City.
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