The end of Matamoros, the refugee camp symbol of Trump's immigration policies

"Thank God I'm here," was the first thing Onelia Alonso, a 61-year-old Cuban political exile, managed to say on Thursday after arriving amid applause at the bus station in Brownsville, Texas.

His crossing with 26 other asylum seekers from Matamoros, in northern Mexico, marked the beginning of the end of a refugee camp built a few meters from the United States, on the other side of the Rio Grande, by the migrants to whom the Former President Donald Trump ordered dangerous cities in the neighboring country to wait until a judge heard their requests for protection.

And with which Joe Biden has proposed to end as soon as possible.

Alonso fled Cuba to Trinidad and Tobago at the end of 2017 after suffering threats from the island's government for belonging to opposition groups such as the Ladies in White.

She traveled through a dozen countries and passed through the dangerous Darien jungle, before arriving in Mexico, where she ended up stranded after encountering the Migrant Protection Protocols (MPP, for its acronym in English), by which Trump sent Mexico to more than 71,000 asylum seekers.

Last week, the Biden Administration began the process to receive the more than 25,000 who still have their active cases so that they can await the decision of the judges in the United States.

Along with Alonso, they crossed a Salvadoran transgender woman who wanted to come to the United States so that she could be herself without fear of violence, a Guatemalan peasant on crutches who fled his land after being attacked by a land conflict, several families and at least a pregnant woman who lived for months in the Matamoros refugee camp.

The transfer from one side of the border to the other was quick and included an antigen test to rule out that the migrants are infected with coronavirus.

In the coming days, the same operation is expected to be repeated with all active MPP cases until the refugee camp is finished, a process that could take between eight and 10 days.

"A cycle is ending, a stage that should not have happened," says Juan Sierra, in charge of the Casa del Migrante in that city.

Although he has been welcoming people in transit to the United States for years, he says he never thought he would see a camp like this one, which hosted nearly 2,000 people before the pandemic.

According to the census that was carried out this week, until Wednesday there were 750 people who have lived the last days between the joy and expectation of those who are going to cross and the sadness for those who have been waiting for months like them, but they will not be able to pass because it was denied asylum or have not had the opportunity to request it.

Erase Trump's immigration legacy

Since the MPP was implemented in Matamoros in the summer of 2019, families have gone from sleeping on the street to building an authentic neighborhood with the tents donated by non-governmental organizations and churches.

Portable toilets, showers, water purification plants, kitchens, stations for the distribution of donations, schools and workshops for children, churches and even a field hospital that was raised by the pandemic were added to the tents.

Despite the aid, the migrants have suffered all kinds of ills.

From the extreme temperatures of this area of ​​the border to the coronavirus crisis, which put migrants in greater limbo after the US decided to close the border in March 2020 and paralyze the MPP asylum hearings.

To that must be added the violence of organized crime.

Nobody dares to say it out loud, but those who have passed through the camp know that La Maña, as the group that controls this area of ​​Matamoros is called, is roaming freely in the settlement.

Violent attacks, extortion and rape have been recorded there, according to the migrants themselves for whom the program also leaves a legacy of trauma.

“During all this time we have met many people who have been traumatized and who have had psychological problems,” acknowledges Yamalí Flores, a 35-year-old asylum seeker from Honduras who was returned to Mexico with her husband and three children in August 2019 "I was going to the psychologist because I could no longer bear it and my oldest son did not eat and only passed by sleeping.

He told me that he no longer wanted to be here, ”explains Flores.

The most difficult thing, he says, has been to ensure the safety of his 15, 10 and 8-year-old children, who have not been to school for almost two years, and try to create a sense of normalcy.

"As a mother, I always feel on a par with the three of them and I ask them to maintain faith and hope, that we know that this will soon end," she says.

For Biden, ending the Matamoros refugee camp, one of the symbols of Trump's toughest policies, was a priority.

But while opening the door to this group, his team sends the message that the border remains closed to new cases.

Meanwhile, migrants like Yamalí Flores prepare their belongings and say goodbye to those who have become their family in the camp.

His children have donated their bikes and toys to other children who stay.

"I know that this will mark our lives forever and we will value life more," says the Honduran who will travel with some friends to San Francisco when she arrives in the US "This is not going to be forgotten.

And I know that, being there, every time I get up in the morning, I will always remind myself that I am no longer sleeping in a tent ”.

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