Ciudad Juarez was meant to be a city of passage for Cabrera and his family, a final stop before their long-awaited moment in front of US immigration authorities to request asylum.
For several months, Cabrera had been applying for a shot at having his asylum claim heard by US authorities, while navigating around southern Mexico. In early January, confirmation came that he had finally secured an appointment.
But a day before the appointment, a stroke of President Donald Trump’s pen shut down the US immigration processing app known as CBP One – and with it, Cabrera’s hopes.
“So much time waiting, and now this surprise,” Cabrera said with a voice of defeat. “They shut off our dreams.”
Until Trump’s inauguration on January 20, migrants seeking asylum from violence or persecution had the option to schedule an appointment at a legal US port of entry to make their case.
“We are left adrift, we have no resources left, we arrived in Juarez with money to pay for one night in a hotel,” the native Venezuelan said.
Now, many are stranded with no money or any sense of what to do next.
It was just below freezing in Ciudad Juarez on Monday when Cabrera realized what had happened, but he and his family decided to still try to explain the situation to US immigration authorities at the Paso del Norte bridge, which connects the Mexican city with the Texas city of El Paso.
But they were quickly turned away. Cabrera and his family were instead directed to a local Mexican public agency for further guidance. There, they were given some warm soup, but got little information on how to pursue their case.
‘We did everything legally’
Erlianny Colombie, 41, left Cuba seven months ago and had been living in the southern Mexico town of Tapachula along with three relatives.
After finding a place to work and live in Tapachula, he applied for an appointment with US officials.
But the travel and costs of obtaining paperwork stretched his resources to breaking point. “We had enough money for the night before our appointment (…) and now we are on the streets,” he said.
Colombie – who says he fled Cuba due to political persecution – says he “understands” Trump’s decision but asks the president to reconsider for those who already had an appointment.
“If we already were in the process, Mr. Trump, please continue with the scheduled appointments, don’t leave us here stranded,” he said.
The sentiment is echoed by other migrants, who say they carefully followed the rules given to them by the United States, and deserve to be heard out.
“Give us another opportunity,” Venezuelan migrant Rosalyn Vargas, 33, asked of Trump.
“We came here for a brighter future, we are human beings, we did everything legally, we followed the process,” Vargas said from a shelter where she’s staying with other relatives.
Who is helping the migrants at the border?
Migrant shelters in Ciudad Juarez are taking in some of the migrants who have now been stranded.
Casa del Migrante, a shelter about 10 miles from the border, says they are offering shelter, food and psychological help to migrants whose appointments were canceled.
“They want a sign of hope, they want to know what’s going to happen with them, they had their appointment canceled, but is there another option,” Lopez said, adding that “thankfully, they have lawyers helping the migrants.”
Some local officials have taken a blunter approach with migrants, underlining that it’s unrealistic to keep trying to reach the US.
“They won’t obtain anything by trying at the crossing points hoping for the US to receive them,” he said.
Serrano says Mexican city, state and federal officials are working together to address the migrant crisis in Ciudad Juarez and other border towns.
“Migrants here should stay calm, there are no instructions for raids here on the Mexican side, the instructions we’ve been given is to give them proper treatment,” Serrano said.
“Shelters in Juarez are at 40% capacity,” Serrano also said, noting that many Mexican border towns are expanding protective spaces in anticipation of mass deportations from the US.
“Everything changed from one moment to another, we went from hope to desperation,” 23-year-old Fabian Delgado said from a shelter.
