The Migration Crisis in Puerto Cartí: A Human Story of Resilience and Despair
In the dense jungles of Panama’s Caribbean coast, a heart-wrenching scene is unfolding. Hundreds of migrants, mostly from Venezuela and Colombia, are abandoning their dreams of reaching the United States and instead boarding speedboats to return to the countries they once fled. This dramatic shift, known as a “reverse flow,” is a direct response to President Donald Trump’s stringent crackdown on migration and asylum policies. Many of these migrants had braved the treacherous Darién Gap, a perilous jungle passage between Colombia and Panama, only to find their hopes of safety and stability in the U.S. shattered. Now, they are forced to turn back, their exhaustion and despair evident as they cling to their backpacks and await their fate.
The migrants’ journey to this point has been nothing short of extraordinary. Many spent months, even years, navigating the complexities of seeking asylum in the U.S. under the Biden-era CBP One app, a program that allowed migrants to schedule appointments at U.S. ports of entry. However, when President Trump dismantled the program, their fragile hopes were extinguished. Karla Castillo, a 36-year-old Venezuelan migrant traveling with her sister, summed up the collective despair: “When Trump arrived and eliminated the application, all our hopes went up in smoke.” For Castillo and countless others, the decision to return is fraught with mixed emotions—relief at reuniting with loved ones, but also the crushing defeat of giving up on a better life.
Smuggling Networks and the Cost of Return
The reverse migration has created a lucrative opportunity for smugglers, who are now charging exorbitant fees for boat rides back to Colombia. Each migrant, including children, is forced to pay between $200 and $250 for the dangerous journey. These payments, often made through money-transfer apps like Zelle, represent the last of many migrants’ savings. The smuggling networks, once focused on ferrying migrants north through the Darién Gap, have pivoted to exploit the desperation of those returning south. The boats, part of what was once called the “VIP route,” now operate in the opposite direction, offering a costly but safer alternative to the deadly jungle trek.
For many, the decision to return is not a choice but a necessity. After spending years navigating the challenges of living in countries like Chile, Peru, and Ecuador, which have increasingly closed their doors to Venezuelan migrants, the collapse of the U.S. asylum system has left them with few options. Castillo, who lived in Chile for five years before embarking on the perilous journey north, expressed her anxiety about returning home to her four children and elderly mother. Her family scraped together enough money for her return by holding a raffle, a testament to the resilience and resourcefulness of migrants in the face of overwhelming adversity.
The Human Toll of Reverse Migration
The migrants’ stories are filled with both hope and heartbreak. Celia Alcalá, another Venezuelan migrant, refused to return to her homeland, citing the country’s recent elections and escalating violence. Like many others, she plans to settle in countries like Peru, Ecuador, or Colombia, continuing a cycle of displacement that has defined her life for years. Yet, the journey back is far from safe. On one recent occasion, a boat carrying 21 migrants, including children, capsized off the coast of Panama, claiming the life of an 8-year-old Venezuelan child. Such tragedies have heightened fears among migrants waiting to board boats, many of whom are now questioning whether they will survive the journey.
Juan Luis Guedez, a Venezuelan migrant traveling with his wife and daughter, exemplifies the uncertainty and fear gripping this community. After fleeing Venezuela eight years ago and living in Chile, Guedez and his family waited four months for an asylum appointment in the U.S. only to see their chances vanish under the new policies. “I don’t know if we will get there alive,” he said, referencing their plans to return to Chile, where their daughter was born. “But if we make it, the idea is to go back to Chile.” For Guedez and his family, the journey is not just about survival but about reclaiming a sense of home in a world that seems determined to push them away.
A Crisis Without End
The reverse flow of migrants underscores the broader challenges faced by countries in the region. Panama, Colombia, and Costa Rica are struggling to manage the influx of returning migrants, many of whom arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs. While the numbers are smaller than the waves of migrants seen in recent years, the continued flow highlights the inadequacy of current migration policies and the need for a more compassionate and coordinated response. Authorities in Panama report that hundreds of migrants are passing through the country every day, many of whom are housed in makeshift camps or forced to fend for themselves in towns like Puerto Cartí.
The migrants’ stories are a poignant reminder of the human cost of migration policies. As they await their fate in Puerto Cartí, they cling to the hope of rebuilding their lives, even as they confront the same economic and political challenges that drove them to flee in the first place. For many, the journey is not over—it is simply taking a different, uncertain path. Their resilience in the face of unrelenting adversity is a testament to the human spirit, but it also raises urgent questions about the global response to migration and the need for solutions that prioritize compassion, safety, and dignity.
Conclusion
The migrants’ reverse journey from Panama to Colombia is more than a story of defeat; it is a deeply human tale of resilience, sacrifice, and the unyielding pursuit of a better life. As they navigate the dangers of their return, they carry with them the memories of loved ones left behind, the losses endured, and the enduring hope of one day finding a place to call home. Their stories remind us that migration is not just a political or economic issue but a profoundly personal one, shaped by the complexities of the human experience.
