Hopes, Fears, and Illusions: Costa Rica field notes

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Avery and Diana flew to the capital city, San José, where they spent several days being onboarded by HIAS Costa Rica. They sat in on a legal interview with a Nicaraguan family seeking asylum in Costa Rica after a failed attempt to migrate to the United States, a story that illustrates the non-linear nature of many migrants' journeys. A few days later, Diana and Avery took the long bus ride to Paso Canoas, which is right on Costa Rica's southern border with Panama. Upon their arrival in Paso Canoas, Avery and Diana encountered a chaotic scene of migrants standing in line at border checkpoints, huddled in tents, or sleeping on the streets. As they made their way to their hotel, a taxi driver assumed they were migrants, asking them whether they had entered Costa Rica illegally and insisting that they get their passports stamped if they had. Local sources informed them that around 2,000 migrants are arriving in Paso Canoas every day. A large share are from Venezuela but Avery and Diana also observed migrants who appeared to be from Ukraine and China.

On their way to Paso Canoas, they stopped in the beach town of Uvita. Avery shared this observation about the bus station: "The Uvita station was crowded with migrants both times we were there, with large families stopping for food and bathroom breaks. Most families had very young children, including infants. I observed that many of them had U.S. dollars instead of Costa Rican Colones, which were accepted at the station store. However, when one migrant mother handed the cashier $20 USD for two ice creams, the cashier responded that she could only give them Colones as change, which the woman refused. During our stay in Uvita we spoked to several locals about our research, and, despite not knowing much about Latin American migration dynamics, many of them confirmed that a large number of people, mostly Venezuelans, pass through the town. A young Nicaraguan employee at our hotel confirmed the same thing, adding (in perfect English) that he's heard horrible stories about the jungle between Panama and Colombia."

By Avery Closser

There is a stark contrast between people who arrive in Costa Rica, head straight to the bus station, purchase tickets, and leave, and those who are living on the streets and attempting to raise the funds to purchase tickets. The people on the streets sleep and hang out in and near the HIAS tent; they are the ones who have had time to interview with us. I’m assuming the people who head straight to the bus station are able to afford tickets and don’t stay in Costa Rica for longer than a few hours. Many of them also have noticeably nicer belongings and equipment (backpacking backpacks, hiking shoes, etc.).

 We’ve encountered lots of people who have lost their documents/passports or their kids’ documents (usually in the Darién) and are trying to figure out what options they have going forward. I think almost every single person we’ve talked to lost something important in the Darién.

 I’ve repeatedly been stunned by how many people know so little about the trek to the US, including the Darién and the route overall. Many people arrive with no idea where they are, where they are supposed to go next, or how. They don’t know how much the trip costs and overall are extremely unprepared. It makes me appreciate how precarious their situations at home must have been for them to abandon everything they know, often at a moment’s notice, and make a journey they know so little about.

 Nearly every migrant we interview becomes extremely emotional when talking about their home country. I feel like this is critical component in understanding the journeys and dynamics of migrants—people do not want to leave their homes. They are leaving their homes because they absolutely must, and when asked to think about what home means to them, they are overcome with emotion because, for many, home is their loved ones, their friends, their house, and their neighbors. For many, their home will never be theirs again, as returning will never be an option. This is the reality for almost every single person here, and it cannot be overstated.

“I consider myself capable of doing anything. Well, in the sense that I am not afraid. But in the middle of being in that jungle, I began to feel afraid, to feel fear. ‘My God,’ I said, 'am I going to die here?'”  – 29, Female, Colombia 

By Diana Serrano

We saw a young woman between 25-30 years old with multiple infected wounds piercing her ankles. They had pus and other fluids. She needed bandages and medicine. HIAS  encouraged her to get medical care and call 911, but she said she had to keep going. Her bus to Los Chiles was leaving soon. She left with no medical care. Later we saw a mother with an infant small enough to be in a baby carrier. The baby had a severe rash all over his limbs and forehead. She thought it was probably from the heat. We told her to seek care, but we don't know what she ended up doing. 

Lots of kids gathered to color with us. There were many small children from Ecuador, between 3-8 years old. Avery and I took turns to watch them and play with them. At some point, they started to call us “profe,” short for “professor.”  One of the kids from Ecuador was coloring a drawing of an astronaut in space. The astronaut was holding a flag. Before coloring the flag, the child asked me, "Do you know where we are? I know this is not Ecuador because the flag over there is a different color.” He pointed at the Costa Rica flag next to the tent. I replied, "Costa Rica.” He asked, "And where is that?” I pointed at the HIAS map to show him the location, and all the kids turned their attention to the map. Many began repeating "Costa Rica" as if they had never heard about it before.

The same kid then asked me, "Profe, do panthers really live in the jungle?" I responded, "They could." He said, "I didn't see any when I crossed the jungle, just monkeys that made very loud noises. Why do you think I didn't see any?" I told him, “Maybe there weren’t any, or they were sleeping." His face looked disappointed. I said, "It's a good thing you didn't see them. They are not very friendly." He nodded and said, "Uhm, I guess." 

After lunch, the psychologist working for HIAS played “hot potato” with a group of 6 kids. The “losers” had to answer a question. For one of their rounds, the question was, "What is your biggest fear?" One child answered, "witches," and everyone laughed. Another kid between 8-10 years old answered, "Sleeping alone in the Darién jungle." There was an awkward pause. Then the psychologist asked, "Did that happen to you?" The child replied, "No, but it could have." The psychologist explained that fear is a good and natural response that helps us engage our brains and remain alert when one doesn't feel safe. She said that fear is often necessary to develop good survival skills. The boy agreed.

One migrant we chatted with informally demanded that the jungle be closed, and that new and safe pathways be created to avoid the deaths of innocent people. He had no information on the difficulty of the jungle before he entered. He ran out of food and went days without eating. He was with his 14-month old grandchild. During the conversation, a taxi driver got out of his car and started distributing small bibles. The migrant took several of them. When I asked him what kept him going, he raised the bible and said, "God, my faith...I do not know what lies ahead, but I know he will be there." 

“Have you ever watched ‘Squid Game’? [The Darién Gap] is just like that…It’s like Russian roulette, life and death. You never know what you are going to get. If you are in the correct spot, you live, but if you are in the wrong one, you die.” – 47, Male, Venezuela, referring to the jungle

 “I do not know what lies ahead of us, but we have to keep going.” – 35, Female, Venezuela 

By Avery Closser

We spent a few days in the tourist town of La Fortuna, seeing the sights and meeting people. I’ve found it very interesting to chat with other travelers about our work. Most of them are extremely confused at first and it takes a lot of explaining for them to understand the gist of what we’re trying to research...Few people are aware that Costa Rica is a transit country for thousands of people, and certainly none of them are aware of the scope of the humanitarian crisis happening just a few hours away. This juxtaposition was particularly pertinent in La Fortuna, where dozens of stereotypical American families were vacationing, staying in enormous luxury resorts and spending U.S. prices on food and drinks. Some folks we met were more aware of the situation...However, even among the budget travelers and backpackers who have been traveling around the world for months or years of their lives, very few had an understanding of the realities of migration.  

We later arrived in Los Chiles and, wow! It’s very different from Paso Canoas and we’re already feeling extremely grateful for this change. Overall, Los Chiles is very small, relaxed, and quiet, which is very different from the extremely chaotic atmosphere in Paso Canoas. The gym where the HIAS office is located is designated as a free safe space for migrants to rest, relax, and even shower! They have multiple bathrooms, free wifi, lots of space, and it’s open from 8-4PM every day. There is also a UNICEF section with activities, arts and crafts, and play spaces for the children. While it might appear to be minimal, compared to Paso Canoas this is extremely luxurious and I’m relieved to see that somewhere in Costa Rica people are able to spend time in a safe, free, indoor space, where they can receive some of the care they need and deserve. The people we interviewed felt safe, had recently showered, and seemed very at ease, which once again is a welcome change from Paso Canoas.  

The dynamic here is difficult because we learned that migrants arrive in Los Chiles at night, because that’s when the bus drops them off after the 12-hour drive from Paso Canoas. So, they basically rely on smugglers for information because these are the only people who are there to greet them when they arrive, as the HIAS and UN teams do not work past 5pm. We end up chatting with the people who stay until the next morning, but who knows what is actually happening to those who arrive at night and accept offers made by smugglers.  

Through our own interviews and through conversations with HIAS, we’ve confirmed repeatedly that the majority of migrants, especially Venezuelans, have almost no information about the journey and are overall very unprepared. This lack of awareness and lack of widespread support/ guidance by humanitarian groups, local police, and migration officials allows the smuggling network to fill the power vacuum and basically control the entire situation. 

The woman I interviewed this morning spoke to us about her experience in Paso Canoas, where she and her family spent one week attempting to raise money for the journey. She described the horrible conditions she was living in, how she and her kids were sleeping on the streets and in tents, spending every day under the hot sun or in the rain, and that many kids were very sick with fevers. We experienced these conditions first-hand, of course, but it was interesting (and heart-wrenching) to hear it from someone who lived through it and is now able to reflect on it.  

 “When I reflect on everything I’ve done, it’s a little scary. Quite scary. But at this point in the game, you cannot look back. It’s up to you to move on, looking back makes things scarier.” – Male, 36, Colombia 

“I want to live a quiet life, I’ve already been through hell, the jungle is hell on earth.”  – Female, 22, Venezuela 

 When asked what he would say to people in the U.S., “Well, it is understandable that in your country you have lots of rules, and I do not question them…more than anything [I feel] a sense of gratitude because through all their rules and processes, they are helping lots of people.” – Male, 43, Colombia 

By Diana Serrano 

Migrants usually arrive [in Los Chiles] knowing they have to cross through “Los Naranjales,” which means “Orange Groves” in Spanish.  But, as a local HIAS staff person told us, there are orange groves all over Los Chiles and the northern side of Costa Rica, which makes this an ambiguous reference point. As a result, smugglers often trick migrants and abandon them in random orange groves.

Although the situation is better here, there are no food services. Occasionally, people or organizations volunteer to cook meals for migrants, but there is no established schedule. At night migrants usually travel to Nicaragua or sleep outside the site or in the bus terminal.  

There are no official taxis in Los Chiles. People use their private vehicles to fill this gap in services. The unofficial taxi drivers call themselves “Talibanes,” and that’s how they are known in the community. Local sources informed us that due to the nature of their work, they are also somewhat linked to the smugglers because they transport people across Los Chiles. However, the degree of involvement and role varies, which is also why the police are not doing much to stop them.  

The official irregular pathway is located 6km away from the safe space. To access Nicaragua as a migrant in transit, the Nicaraguan government makes irregular migrants walk around their official port of entry in Las Tablillas on a dirt road for about 15-20 minutes. Upon arriving at “Los Puentes,” the Nicaraguan government charges them $150 USD per person ($130 as a penalty fee and $20 to take the bus to their border with Honduras). 

We talked to two Haitian migrants who spoke Spanish. They confirm that Haitians do not have access to information in their language while in transit. As a result, they have been translating for other Haitians along the way. Based on our observations and conversation, it seems like Haitians travel with more financial resources than Venezuelans or are more willing to use them to transit for safer routes. However, their response or wiliness to pay the fee might also result from the language barrier and additional obstacles it creates for them. 

"I heard that Mexico is the worst country [to transit through] and that one might get kidnapped or robbed. But as I told you, I have no money, so what could they possibly take from me?" - Female, 32, Venezuela  

When describing her life in Venezuela, she said: "There is hunger, there is need, there is no work, the government has taken everything... We are their slaves." - Female, 32, Venezuela 

By Diana Serrano

On Friday, I conducted my last interview with a woman traveling with nine relatives. She had no information on the transit route. After the interview, I did an information session with her and other family members. They shared that they were intercepted by smugglers in El Parque, where the bus dropped them off. The smugglers offered to take them through "Los Naranjales" for $60 USD each, a total of $600 USD. But because the family didn't have the money, they had to decline. Upon learning the Nicaraguan government charges a transit penalty of $130 per person, one of the men traveling with her told me, "Governments are fueling the smuggling business and putting us at risk by charging twice as much for our transit fee." 

HIAS disseminates information on the rights of migrants in Costa Rica, the transit route, and humanitarian organizations along the way. At the end of the information session, HIAS distributes a client satisfaction survey. Two questions relevant to our study measure migrants’ level of information before and after their interaction with HIAS. Before our departure, I met with a HIAS staff member to discuss the unofficial results of these questions. Between June 26 and July 14, one staff member received 40 responses. The survey found that after talking to HIAS, the number of respondents who reported “a lot” of information about the journey jumped from 10% to 85%. Those who reported “none” or “very little” information fell from 53% to 0% after talking to HIAS. 

“Humanitarian organizations should reflect on their practices and the kind of support they deliver to us. For us being able to communicate is essential. However, there is no support along the way, and as a result, we often must pay fees to connect to Wi-Fi or charge our phones. This should be a priority in humanitarian services.” – Male, 28, Venezuela  When asked about the decision-making process, he said: “Your body knows you are in survival mode. Once you are deep in the jungle, there is no other choice to make, especially when there is no food or water left. You have to keep going. There is no choice but to look at the sky and pray to God.” – Male, 28, Venezuela  “Our first enemy is the jungle, and the second is Mexico. We have seen videos of migrants getting killed and kidnapped. But we trust God. He cannot abandon us now.” – Male, 28, Venezuela 

By Avery Closser

I talked to a middle-aged Venezuelan man who, for the first time since I’ve been here, asked me a number of specific questions about U.S. immigration policies, some of which I struggled to answer. He has a brother in the U.S. who gave him lots of information about the different policies, including that you have to have family in the US to sponsor you on arrival. We’ve heard this a lot from different people – that it’s easier to gain access to the U.S. if you have a relative to sponsor or “receive” you when you arrive. The man I talked to was concerned because his brother, who is seeking asylum, is currently living in a shelter in the U.S., which he worried could compromise his brother's ability to sponsor him and his family.  

Our last week was unusually slow, and no one was really sure why. A HIAS colleague seemed concerned that perhaps more migrants than usual might be getting intercepted on the bus by smugglers outside of Los Chiles, and that they could be waiting there and then crossing into Nicaragua over there, bypassing Los Chiles altogether. It’s also been raining a ton here, off and on all day and night, so this could be contributing to the lack of people, especially if it’s been this rainy in the Darien, or along other parts of the journey.  

On our last day, Diana conducted an interview with a Venezuelan woman who was traveling with a large group with lots of little kids. I blew bubbles with two little girls to entertain them during the interview. It was one final heartwarming moment, and it made me realize how much I missed spending time with the kids, which we haven’t done since Paso Canoas.  

“The most difficult for me has been leaving my family because I left them without food, and I was the one looking for bread [for them] every day… The goal is the United States, because I know that [the U.S.] will give me a good future, for my children, and for my family.” – Male, 48, Venezuela