Glens Falls Chronicle Serving the Glens Falls/Lake George region; Warren, Washington and northern Saratoga counties since 1980
By Max Frost, Rocanews.com
Editor’s note: Max Frost, the son of Chronicle owners Mark Frost and Sandra Hutchinson and brother of Chronicle Chief Operating Officer Zander Frost, is co-founder and COO of Rocanews, an Internet firm based in New York City that Max and two partners co-founded and operate. It has 1.2-million Instagram followers, a daily emailed newsletter and more.
Necoclí, Colombia, is the final town on the South American migrant route. Migrants wait here until they assemble enough cash to pay for a boat to the Darién Gap — the gang-controlled, roadless jungle that separates Panama from Colombia.
Our team stopped into a shantytown — a collection of tents — on the beach. There, we met a family of 11 that was selling water bottles and snacks to save enough for the trip. Once ready, they would travel to the Darién Gap, and, they hope, from there, to New York City.
[Max’s team had four people, a translator, a videographer, a driver/security person and Max.]
Below are excerpts from a translated interview in Spanish with the father, Giovanni, and mother, Iris.
Giovanni: We are here working to get the tickets to cross into Darién and get to Panama. Our final destination, in the name of God, is the United States. Our plan there is to work and be part of the American community. I am here with my wife, and I am accompanied by 7 children from my wife, 6 of which are mine, and a daughter from my wife who is raised by me; my daughter’s husband; and my grandson, his child. In total we are 7 children and 4 adults.
[Are you worried about the trip?]
Giovanni: Well, we are worried more than anything about the economic situation, because money is what we need and it seems incredible, but money is what makes it easy for you to do anything.
Iris: When I left Venezuela 4 years ago, we went to Cúcuta, Colombia, because of the need for food and the lack of employment. At that time, everything had become too expensive and everything was running out. So that’s why we decided to move the first time.
Giovanni emigrated first and it was about 3 months later that I arrived in Cúcuta and we settled there. I think you saw that Cúcuta has practically been left with no one, because all the Venezuelans have already emigrated to the United States. Once they opened up the Darién, everyone crossed to the United States, regardless of whether or not they will die, just for their American dream; just for a better life.
Giovanni: And why? For the children.
Iris: For family.
Giovanni: People continue experiencing need in the same place. It could be Venezuela, Ecuador, Chile, or Peru — they prefer to take risks because even being in those countries and having a job, they spend practically everything they earn. Rent, food, gas, and electricity expenses — you know what I mean?
They never manage to save or have a base to form a future. Everything they earn, they spend, everything.
So they see the United States as an option because the economy there is a little more stable, much better. And that is the reason that most of us Venezuelans go to the United States.
Look at what is happening in Colombia — the inflation is rising, little by little. Everything is expensive, fares, health. The basic income is no longer enough to support at least one home, especially if they are families of 3 or 4. We are a family of 11. We think that by going to the United States, we can at least have a much better state of life.
The United States should have implemented some kind of strategy to select people who could enter. I imagine that many single people, many single men, entered the United States. The U.S. should take into account families, relatives, and make a decision on each one — based on the person’s needs, rather than having that open flow of people into the United States.
Iris: We’re not going to generalize that all Venezuelans are bad…but now some Venezuelans have done bad things, and because of them, the opportunity is closed to the people who really want to be there and want to work.
Giovanni: Among Venezuelans, there are many honest people — like me, my wife, and the family that surrounds me, who need and want to work honestly. We have a profession — I am an auto mechanic. I have my degrees and I am here working honestly. He’s selling candies and all that stuff. But what am I looking for? A much better and more prosperous standard of living for my children and my wife.
[How did you tell your kids that you were leaving Venezuela?]
Iris: At first, the kids asked, ‘Mom, why did we get out of there? Mom, where are my friends?’ But suddenly they realized it’s the United States, and now they want to study English, they want to know English. That is already a dream for her. So now it’s, ‘Mom, when are we eaving? Let’s go, let’s go everyone!’
[Which city are you headed to?]
Iris: New York.
Giovanni: New York, because we have a son there.
Iris: But the important thing is to reach “Tierra América’ [American land]
Giovanni: Yes, to get to the American land and look for a job – because there are many ways to get a job there; because you don’t have to go out and beg on the street; because you, honestly, you can grab a broom and go from door to door, even sweeping, and I know that they will help you because they will see the intention that you want to work. There are ways of having a future.
Iris: For me, if I see trash, I pick up trash. And I will find a job, because people will see that I am working. I know that someone is going to recommend me for a job, because I am doing something useful for society.
We spoke to the couple’s daughter, Kerlis, 24, and her partner Xavier, 21, who were traveling with Kerlis’ 4-year-old son and 8 other members of Kerlis’ family, including her parents and 6 siblings.
The planned journey would take them by foot through gang-controlled jungles in Panama, the entirety of Central America, and illegally over the border into Texas.
They left Venezuela 4 years earlier and have been living as refugees in Colombia.
***
[What are you thinking about the trip to the United States?]
Xavier: Well, honestly, anxious. We’re looking forward to the United States, but we’re scared too. The process of getting there, the lack of many things we need like food, money, security. But we’re going, despite not knowing what may happen.
Kerlis: The truth is, more than anything else, it’s fear. At least I, as a mother, feel very afraid for my son. Because you don’t know what you’re going to find on the way there. One hears many stories, but who knows what one may experience.
So I’m afraid. I sometimes think that I don’t know if the child has the resistance, the strength. I don’t know. And that sometimes makes me doubt the trip. But I also think that obviously I am going to have a better life for the child there in the United States. So that keeps me going – the force of knowing that when we are there, the child will have a better future, and he will not continue to face as much hardship as us.
Xavier: Yes, so we put out fear aside and focus on the desire to keep going.
[What do you think of the United States? How do you think it is there, and how do you think it will be for you?]
Xavier: Well, we don’t really know. Each person has their own luck. But we understand that they’re going to receive us well.
Kerlis: Because we really want to work.
Xavier: Yes, we’re going to work. That’s what we want.
Kerlis: Work is the key. It is how one becomes known. If you go with that energy of wanting to work, of wanting to get ahead, why would they receive you badly? There is no reason for them to receive you badly if you want to work, if you walk politely, decently. If you behave well. So I imagine that they will receive us well because we are going to do that. We are going to contribute well.
Xavier: We are going to serve the United States.
[Are you excited to learn English?]
Xavier: Very, very, very.
Kerlis: Yes, yes, very. I love English. I’ve always wanted to learn it.
Xavier: Yes, but we haven’t had the opportunities, because many of us have been born without them. Many lost opportunities.
[To Xavier: How does it feel to be traveling with your girlfriend’s family? To Kerlis: How does it feel to be doing this with your family?]
Xavier: The truth is I feel super good that I am with such a beautiful, hard-working, fighting, warrior family. I feel empowered to take this family to the United States and give it a better life.
Kerlis: I was thinking of going alone, but I thought my mom wanted to go too and I figured it was better than going with a stranger, so I’d better go with my mom. So I feel good about going with my family. What could be better than going with my family? Besides that, my mom is a good warrior, my mom is a hard worker. So I feel good wherever I am, with my family, with my son, my partner. Obviously, I feel super good. And with God’s favor, everything will go well, and we will all arrive and do what we want to do – work and have a better life.
[What do you think your lives would be like if you stayed in Colombia?]
Xavier: Sad. Sad. Why? Because we hope to have a better life. We don’t want to always stay in the same cycle, unable to improve, unable to climb up. We don’t want to be stuck the same.
Kerlis: There is a big difference between Colombia and the United States. It is not the same to be here or there. Everything — everything — education, health, lifestyle, everything is different. People are not the same, even people, I dare say they are more honest there.
It’s like we’re practically going to erase the whole slate and we’re going to introduce a new one, to be better people, you know? Obviously we’re not bad people, but over there everything would improve, even as people we would be different. We would be better, if you understand me, is what I think of the United States.
[Was your son born in Colombia?]
Kerlis: Yes, in Cúcuta [on the border with Venezuela].
The truth is that when I entered Cúcuta, it was very dangerous, very dangerous. But as for the child’s care, in the hospital, I can’t complain. My delivery, that is, all the attention to the child, everything very well. But the truth is, as the child grew, I left Cúcuta. I began my journey to leave Colombia when the child was 8 months old due to insecurity, because I lived in a neighborhood where people were being killed all the time. So I was scared and decided to start backpacking, walking, and then I left Colombia.
[When you say it’s insecure, what do you mean?]
Kerlis: There are many things. I saw many incredible things, things that one could not even say, because they are serious things. There is a lot of crime, many bad things. Murders, robberies, extortion. In the neighborhood where I lived, there were some people to work for, and if they didn’t work for them then they would kill you. It was very complicated.
Xavier: There are things that cannot be said. Only bad experiences.
Max’s Colombia trip came to an abrupt end. He writes: We had planned to take a boat from Necoclí, a Caribbean town where the migrant road ends, to Capurgana, a jungle town from where migrants begin their walk through the Darién Gap, the roadless rainforest that leads to Central America. But while we were out conducting interviews, we met a few people who gave us a bad feeling. They were asking too many questions, seemed too eager to help, and had too many ties to local politicians and police.
Our translator told me he didn’t trust them; I was thinking the same. In a border town like this — where organized crime is common — we weren’t going to take a chance. After one final sketchy encounter, we grabbed our bags, tossed them in the car, and told our driver to take us out of Necoclí. We drove through the night for 7 hours until we reached Cartagena, a major city. We spent a day there, then headed back to our respective homes.
Max writes: I’m always happy to return to the U.S. after a trip abroad. This time, though, hit different.
We interviewed dozens of people who were literally selling everything they had, leaving their families, walking through gang-controlled jungles, risking their lives, just to live in the United States as undocumented immigrants.
For the people we met on Necoclí’s migrant beach, reaching the United States would take weeks or months; require them to leave everything they had; and potentially cost them their lives.
For me, it took $200, a 5-hour flight, and a passport. I’ve never felt luckier.
The family of 11 told me they were scared to make the journey, but had no choice. “We can’t imagine what life would be like if we stayed,” one said.
Giovanni said: “We all die — children, adults. God decides when our time is up. We have God and trust that he’ll protect us on this journey…We have dreamed of coming to America. Our kids have been asking us, ‘When are we going to America?’ and now we are.”
They hugged me before I left and said, “We’ll see you in New York.”
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