Rosa Viridiana Ceron Alpizar’s 9-year-old daughter and 1-year-old son became unwell two days after their arrival at a temporary migrant shelter at the U.S.-Mexico border in June. She remembered that most of the children in the converted gymnasium had stomach problems after being given sausage and beans.
Her daughter recovered fast, but her son did not. He had a fever, diarrhea, and was vomiting. When the staff at the shelter were unable to assist Alpizar, he sought out a private physician, who administered antibiotics.
Midway through June, Alpizar, her spouse, children, and brother relocated to Leona Vicario, a former factory that the Mexican government had transformed into a shelter for migrants awaiting entry into the United States. Several weeks later, though, a physician informed her that her son’s condition had not improved. “He showed me the chart again and stated it remained unchanged,” Alpizar said in Spanish via an interpreter while visiting a shopping center near the shelter. He remains malnourished.
People at the Leona Vicario migrant shelter entrance in Mexico
On January 19, 2022, people may be seen in the Leona Vicario Migrant Center in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico.
Prior to three years ago, Mexico had few shelters for migrants traveling to the United States. Asylum-seekers, such as Alpizar and her family, often presented themselves to U.S. authorities and were either jailed in American institutions or granted parole pending their procedures. In either situation, access to the U.S. health care system was possible.
But a constellation of U.S. immigration regulations, a rising number of asylum seekers and refugees, and the COVID-19 epidemic have converted Mexican border communities into holding centers for those wanting to cross the border and continue north while awaiting a change in policy. And despite recent attempts by the Biden administration to reverse some of these measures, it is unlikely that anything will change in the coming months. A few miles from El Paso, Texas, Alpizar and her family are now among the thousands of immigrants staying in dozens of freshly constructed shelters in Juárez.
The delay, which may take months, has caused some migrants, such as Alpizar’s children, to acquire health issues; aggravated people’s existing illnesses, such as hypertension or diabetes; left them in dreadful circumstances without treatment; and intensified the anguish of those leaving their homes.
Under Title 42, a public health emergency order first invoked by the Trump administration in March 2020 to prevent the spread of COVID, Alpizar and her family are prohibited from presenting themselves at a border checkpoint and claiming asylum; they would be expelled back to Mexico without screening.
According to KFF research, the policy, one of many that have kept migrants in Mexico, is “counterproductive” to safeguarding individuals from COVID.
Since its inception in 2019, the Leona Vicario shelter has seen epidemics of chickenpox and measles. Because the Mexican government manages it, it is still regarded as one of the best shelters. Private and non-profit shelters operate with little control and vary in quality.
A guy being tested at the Leona Vicario shelter for COVID-19.
On March 11, 2021, a guy gets tested for COVID-19 at the Leona Vicario shelter in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, before to entering the United States.
A number of migrants sleep on the street. Gabriela Muoz, project manager of Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center in Juárez, said that in general, circumstances are making individuals ill and treatment is scarce.
After an attempt to abduct her children, Alpizar decided to go to the border from Cuernavaca, a city south of Mexico City, she claimed. On the same day, her brother Angel and his painting companion Pablo Sandoval Arce were attacked on their way home from an apartment painting job. She informed Pablo, the father of José, that it was no coincidence.
She reported the events to the local police, but was informed there was nothing they could do. A few days later, they arrived in Juárez with funds from Alpizar’s aunt in South Carolina, who had helped raise Alpizar and her brother after the death of their mother. Alpizar is now attempting to get an exception to Title 42 that would enable her family to apply for asylum and join her aunt pending the outcome of their case.
Crystal Sandoval, director of strategic initiatives at the El Paso office, said that Las Americas receives over 4,000 calls daily. Only approximately 100 elicit a reply. Approximately 70% of callers need medical care; they require rapid cancer treatment, have uncontrolled conditions such as diabetes, or have acquired anemia. Others have been sexually abused or are pregnant with high-risk infants. The organization assists 60 to 90 individuals every week in obtaining exemptions, allowing them to petition for asylum and stay in the United States until their court dates.
According to immigration activists, not only has Title 42 done more damage than good for public health, but the law has also been enforced selectively. During the current fiscal year, which began on October 1, U.S. Customs and Border Protection has detained almost 1.7 million migrants. According to the agency, over half of these stops ended in an expulsion under Title 42. About 65 percent of the expulsions included Mexicans, but the great majority involved immigrants from El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras. However, in April, American officials briefly let Ukrainians in Mexican shelters to enter the United States.
In many respects, the medical history of the Alpizar family is not the most severe. Other migrants have pressing needs that risk their lives. In 2019, after five months of waiting in a shelter, a Ugandan lady passed away in a hospital in Juárez – the same week that her asylum application was approved. An autopsy revealed that sepsis, pneumonia, and TB caused her death.
Jeremy Slack, an immigration researcher at the University of Texas in El Paso who met Alpizar during a monthly visit to Leona Vicario, said that Alpizar’s predicament illustrates how U.S. immigration policy has outsourced migrant care to Mexico.
The Biden administration’s efforts to repeal several immigration restrictions have been delayed or thwarted by the federal courts. A federal court barred the Biden administration from rescinding the Title 42 order in May, days before Alpizar embarked on her voyage.
In the meanwhile, several non-profits aim to facilitate migrants’ access to healthcare during their border queues. Hope Border Institute, a Catholic non-profit, established a fund to help them pay for private physicians, hospital stays, medications, and transportation to and from appointments.
When a doctor instructed Alpizar to put her kid on a special diet, the family originally went grocery shopping to purchase him food that was not accessible at the shelter, which shelters around 600 people. However, when they checked the shared refrigerator of shelter occupants later that day, the fruit and yogurt were gone. Pablo now shops three times a week and purchases just little quantities to feed his kid.
Then, towards the end of July, a doctor at the shelter diagnosed José with conjunctivitis and prescribed antibiotic eyedrops. Shortly afterwards, his sister Zoe tested positive for COVID, prompting the placement of the family in the shelter’s isolation unit.
Dr. Julie Linton, co-chair of the American Academy of Pediatrics’ Council on Immigrant Child and Family Health, stated that gastrointestinal issues, respiratory illnesses such as COVID, and skin conditions are prevalent in congregate facilities, such as shelters, where people are housed in close quarters. She has treated several freshly arrived children with various parasite illnesses because they had access to clean water or hygienic conditions while traveling.
Dr. Bert Johansson, a doctor from El Paso who helps in Mexican shelters, warned that José might have something much more dangerous, but migrants do not have access to specialized treatment and testing.
Or José may just need a safe space to recuperate.
Linton said that chronic stress lowers the immune system, making infections more frequent and healing more difficult. According to Marisa Limón, senior director of advocacy and programs at the Hope Border Institute, the lengthy delays contribute to or exacerbate preexisting trauma. According to Linton, mental health disorders are among the most prevalent health issues among those in shelters and correctional institutions.
In July, authorities from Las Americas informed Alpizar that she would have to wait between eight and ten weeks to discover if her family would be given an exemption.
Alpizar has considering illegally crossing the border but lacks the cash to do so. Desperation has prompted migrants to undertake this perilous voyage.
Eddie Canales, director of the South Texas Human Rights Center, said that the absence of legal avenues to seek asylum “forces individuals to take greater risks in more hazardous locations.” The boundary is a cemetery.