U.S. Border Patrol officers meet near a border fence and security tower… (John Moore / Getty Images )
HARLINGEN, Texas — They come from Central America with slips of paper sewn into their pockets bearing names they are sometimes too young to spell. Parents send them with Bibles, rosaries and small wooden crosses in their backpacks.
The flood of undocumented immigrants has slowed compared to five years ago — likely due to tighter border enforcement and the economic downturn in the U.S. — but in its place is a new immigration surge even more confounding: children and teenagers traveling through the rugged border lands into south Texas, lured by the promise of safety. Up to 120 unaccompanied youths are arriving each day, officials say, a number that has tripled over the last five years and that by some estimates could soon reach 60,000 a year.
The southeastern edge of Texas has become the busiest border crossing in the country for these wandering youths, most of whom are adolescents, though some are as young as 5 or 6. Last year, U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents apprehended more than 21,000 minors traveling without families on a roughly 315-mile stretch of the Rio Grande that runs west from Harlingen to the south of Laredo. That was more than half the total of 38,833 detained nationwide.
Changes in U.S. policy to expand legal residence opportunities in the U.S. for undocumented youth, along with job prospects, may have led some families to send younger family members on the journey north.
But immigrant advocates say most are fleeing in fear. More than 90% of the youngsters detained are from Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador — countries where violence, particularly drug cartel and gang violence, has spurred an exodus for all ages.
Relatives may pay smugglers to bring the children north at a cost of $3,000 to $10,000, said Aryah Somers, a lawyer who has worked with migrant youth. Some were left behind by parents who immigrated illegally to the U.S. to find work, she said, and their journey often involves traveling by themselves, often atop trains.
The young immigrants tell harrowing stories of being abused before and during their journeys, according to Susan Terrio, an anthropology professor at Georgetown University who interviewed 40 of the youths.
"They witnessed or survived robberies and fell victim to brutal attacks and sexual assaults. They outran or hid from federal police and border patrol agents. They struggled with hunger, illness, and exposure to the elements and saw fellow migrants lose limbs or die while jumping on or off cargo trains," Terrio said.
One Honduran youth she interviewed suffered abuse at the hands of his stepfather before he fled; he lived on the street, then was kidnapped by the Zetas cartel after reaching Mexico, she said. He witnessed gang rapes and assassinations before escaping.
A 13-year-old Salvadoran girl was also kidnapped by a Mexican gang, then trafficked for sex and forced to transport drugs for two years before she escaped across the border. Because she had been drugged and starved in captivity, the girl was disoriented, suffered memory lapses and was only able to tell her story to a clinician after six months in detention, Terrio said.
"It's very clear to us they are coming because of violence and protection issues in their home countries," said Michelle Brané, director of the Migrant Rights and Justice Program at the Women's Refugee Commission in New York. "It's not about necessarily a pull factor in the U.S."
Brian Portillo Hernandez, 17, was one of several youths who appeared in a courtroom here in the border city of Harlingen earlier this month after being apprehended by U.S. border authorities. The youth said he fled El Salvador last year at the urging of his parents after being threatened by gangs at school. He had been allowed to join his aunt in Independence, Mo., after being detained, but traveled back to court on the advice of the attorney his family hired to handle his immigration case.
"His mother wanted him to come here because she feared for his safety. She wanted him to come here for a better life," said Portillo's aunt, Marguerita Hernandez, 51.
Elizabeth Kennedy, a researcher at San Diego State University who works with migrant youths and their families in El Salvador, said many youths have already tried to flee worsening gang violence at home, switching schools and cities and seeking help from police and other government agencies. Increasingly powerful gangs find them, however, and act with impunity, she said.
Parents tell her they must weigh the risks of sending a child north against the violence at home. "They know it's a dangerous journey, but they also don't want their child to die or not get an education," Kennedy said.