After Eighteen Years in the US, No Due Process, No Judicial Review, Just Deportation

Vern entered the United States in 1991 and applied for political asylum. He was issued a work permit as his case was being processed, and began to work in a frozen food processing plant in Ohio. He met a Honduran woman, Maria, also applying for political asylum, and they began to date. Years went by, and each year, they received work permits that allowed them to continue working. Hopeful their cases would eventually be resolved, Vern and Maria married, and had their first child in 1996.

In 1998, Vern received a notice that he should leave the United States — his asylum application had been denied. Vern was devastated — he had established a life in the US, and had few ties to Guatemala. He decided to stay, and hope that his wife’s application would be approved, and that she could apply for him to legalize his status. They had another child, and continued to make their lives in Ohio. Vern rose up the ranks in the food processing plant, eventually becoming supervisor. Maria also worked there, but she worked on the line, earning less money than Vern.

Vern and his wife had a comfortable life in the US, but Vern lived in fear that immigration agents would come for him. To avoid this, he stayed out of trouble. He did everything he could to avoid problems with the police; he never drank, avoided making traffic violations, and abided by the laws at all times. He learned English, took his kids on outings every weekend, and tried to blend in as much as possible.

It wasn’t enough. One Sunday morning, two ICE agents came to Vern’s house and arrested him in front of his children — aged 12 and 9. The immigration agents were part of a Fugitive Operation Team — designed to find “fugitive aliens” — people like Vern who had ignored their deportation orders. Vern was put into detention, and, eight days later, he was in Guatemala, the country he had left eighteen years before.

Vern was never given the opportunity to explain to a judge that he had ignored his deportation order because he had already formed a family in the US, that his family depended on him to meet their daily needs, that he had worked at the same job for sixteen years, that he had never had any trouble with the law, that his two children are Americans, or that his wife was very close to attaining legal status, and thus to ensuring his own legal status. Vern had no opportunity to explain anything. He had sought entry to the United States, and had been denied admission. In one reading of the law, despite his years in the US, the fact that he entered illegally means that he never actually entered the US. As an extraterritorial subject, Vern was not afforded the Constitutional protections and due process we presume to be part of the US legal system.

Vern, like most non-citizens who face deportation, had no right to judicial review of his case. If a person entered the country illegally, he is considered to be seeking entry to the US, and not to be a person physically present in the US. As a person seeking entry, he is not entitled to Constitutional protections and judicial review in immigration proceedings. The right of the United States to deny due process to people seeking entry has merit insofar as it makes sense to avoid burdening the court systems and to protect the sovereignty of the US. However, it makes little sense to refer to a person as seeking entry when he has lived in the US for over two decades, has US citizen children, and has few if any ties to any other country. To deny that person judicial review of his deportation order is to ignore the notions of due process and Constitutional protections that are so important to the United States, and to international and human rights law more generally. It also ignores his human right to form a family and to be with his family.

This is a re-post from Dissident Voice

Nine foods I will miss when we leave Guatemala

As we move each three months to a new country, I find myself thinking of the foods I will have less opportunity to enjoy in our new destination. Of course, the next destination will hold new delights, but there are some things about Guatemala I will definitely miss.

1) First and foremost, the tortillas. Not the ones in the supermarket, not the ones made from Maseca, but the ones made by the tortilleras. Tortilleras are women who spend their whole day making tortillas. In the morning, they grind the corn, and spend the rest of the day patting out fresh masa into delicious, hot tortillas.

2) Avocados. Guatemalan avocados are big, juicy, meaty, and green. They are delicious and much more affordable than in the US!

3) Black beans. Sure, you can get black beans most places. But, the ubiquitous refried Guatemala black beans are some of the tastiest I have tried.

4) Kac-kiq (Cack-kik) de chunte. A big old turkey leg in a thick, delicious caldo, served with rice and tamalitos.

5) Jocón. A scrumptious green chicken stew made with fresh herbs. The chicken simmers in the ground cilantro, yerbabuena, and parsley until it falls off the bone.

6) Hilachas. Tender shredded beef in a delicious tomato sauce. Served with rice and tortillas, with lemon and salsa to taste.

7) Caldo de gallina. Not chicken, but hen, soup. Home-raised chicken is cooked for hours, making a delicious soup, accompanied with vegetables.

8) Caldo de pata. Okay, I didn’t actually eat the cow foot, but I enjoyed the flavorful red broth and the variety of vegetables in this stew – cabbage, huisquil, carrots, celery, potatoes, and yucca.

9) Fresh ground cacao balls. Simmered in milk with cinnamon and cloves – the perfect way to end the day.

Making the Best of a Sunny Day on Lake Atitlan

On Tuesday, the sun came out all day, and we were able to enjoy Lake Atitlan as best we could, without getting into the water. From San Marcos, we walked down to the lake, and along a path that led through dense forest and near steep cliffs. The views across the lake of several volcanoes and the clear blue sky were astounding. The path we were walking along was quite narrow in parts. Really, the worst that could happen is that you could fall into the water, but that did not seem very appealing.

Lake Atitlan is covered with algae that has turned the crystal clear water a brownish color in most parts. In addition, the smell of untreated waste is strong in some parts. That certainly put a damper on the experience. Most locals seem to think that the problem with the lake is temporary. They point out that it has started to get better, with the wind and cold of the past few days. Others say that a clean-up effort will begin soon and that the lake will be restored to its crystalline self. I hope they are right, but I fear that Lake Atitlan will become the next Lake Amatitlan – a highly polluted, green lake near Guatemala City.

When we finished our short hike, we went back to San Marcos la Laguna, where the kids played on a slightly decrepit metal play set for quite a while. As they played, I sat in the plaza and watched people go by. Most of the residents of San Marcos seem to be either white American or European yoga types or indigenous Guatemalans. Most of the gringos live in fancy concrete structures in the part of the town close to the lake, while the Guatemalans live in humbler houses made of all sorts of materials, on the other side of town, farther from the lake. That said, a few gringos passed by us in the plaza, on their way to the other side of town. A young man at the store told us that the segregation is not complete.

The gringo part of San Marcos is replete with yoga facilities, meditation centers, holistic medicine centers, Reiki centers, and people who frequent those sorts of facilities. I thought about taking a dance class while I was there, but never got around to it.

In the evening, we took the kids to have pizza at the Pizzeria Media Luna. It was half-decent pizza, but the kids never seem to notice pizza quality. After that, Nando and I ate at Paco Real, where we shared a delicious bistec a la veracruzana. We also decided to switch hotels, and stayed at the Paco Real the second night. It was slightly less comfortable than La Posada del Bosque Encantado, but the staff was tremendously more cheerful, and it was a better deal.

On Wednesday morning, Soraya and I woke up early and walked along the lake, admiring all of the gardens and fabulous houses in the gringo part of town, just along the lake. After our walk and a bit of homeschooling, we decided to set out for Santiago de Atitlan. A few people had told us that the water is clearer in that part of the lake, and we wanted to check it out. From San Marcos, we took a moto-taxi to San Pedro, as the boat for Santiago departs from there.

The boat to Santiago is a large vessel, with space for about 60 people. The girls were excited to be on a big boat – one on which they could run around. The trip across the lake was beautiful – with views of volcanoes and the surrounding greenery. On the boat, we met a group of folks who were headed to Sipacate, on the Pacific coast. In Santiago, we had a beer with them as we thought about whether or not we should join them.

I had been looking forward to relaxing in a natural wonderland, and had not quite had that experience in San Marcos. It had its moments, but I was pretty disappointed about not being able to swim or go kayaking in the lake. In Santiago, the water was a bit cleaner, but Santiago is a bigger city, and not as relaxing as I had hoped for. So, we decided to join our newfound friends on their trip to Sipacate. That turned out to be a real adventure.

Deported for hitting a dead person, a successful businessman sees his life wrecked

Melvin was born in 1968 in Zone 6 of Guatemala City, in Barrio San Antonio. His mother abandoned him, and he grew up with his father and grandmother. When he was three, his father traveled to the US, leaving him with his grandmother. At age twelve, his grandmother left, leaving him with his aunt. At age 15, he dropped out of school and began working to support himself. When Melvin was 18, his father finally was able to take him to the US legally.

Melvin went to Arlington, Virginia to live with his father and stepmother. In Virginia, Melvin worked in hotel maintenance for a few years before he found a better-paying job doing floors in residences. He worked in that business from about 1990 to 1995. In 1996, his boss encouraged him to set up his own flooring business. It worked out very well for Melvin, and he eventually was making up to $15,000 a week. In 1998, he re-married. He and his wife had two children. The first was born in 1999, and the second in 2001. They had a house, several cars, a successful business, and took frequent vacations. Life was good for Melvin and his family.

In 2005, his past came to haunt him and his life would never be the same again. Ten years earlier, in 1995, Melvin had trouble with the law – the one time in his life that he had trouble. Melvin was driving down the highway with a friend of his. They saw a man lying in the street, and Melvin backed up to see what had happened. The car behind him put on the high beams, and Melvin couldn’t see where he was going. He rolled over the man he had seen laying in the highway. Melvin was scared, and took off. A bad decision, he admits.

The next day, the police came to his house. He was charged with a hit and run and involuntary manslaughter. It turned out that the man was already deceased when Melvin rolled over him, and the involuntary manslaughter charge was dropped. For the hit and run, he was given a six year sentence. He served one year, and the remaining five years were suspended.

When Melvin was released from prison, he figured his past was behind him. He had done his time and had not been in trouble with the law since. He got married, had two kids, and was running a successful business. He was a legal permanent resident of the United States, and never expected immigration agents to bother him.

In June 2005, ICE agents came knocking on his door. They took Melvin into custody and told him he was to be deported to Guatemala. Melvin could not believe his life was crashing down like this. Melvin and his wife spent $15,000 on lawyers, trying everything they could. It did not work, and Melvin was sent to Guatemala.

He found an uncle to take him in who lived in Zona 4 de Mixco, a fairly dangerous neighborhood. However, Melvin soon had problems there. Melvin’s biggest problem is that he has tattoos all over his arms and one on his neck. Melvin got them because he liked them, and a friend he knew offered to do them for him. What Melvin did not know is that the spider tattooed on his neck and the spider webs tattooed on his elbows are considered symbols of the gang “18” in Guatemala. One day, on his way home, members of a rival gang spotted him and shot at him. Luckily, he ducked. Unfortunately, his uncle took a bullet for him. His uncle’s injury was not fatal, but the family decided to move out of that area.

They moved to Melvin’s father’s half-way constructed house in Santa Catalina, a much safer part of the city. Once the house was finished and Melvin was settled in, his wife and children moved to Guatemala City. She sold the house, and they had $200,000 in savings – enough to set up here in Guatemala.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the life changes put stress on their marriage. After about a year and a half, they decided to divorce, and Melvin’s wife went back to the US with the kids. In the US, she works in a gas station and lives with her mother. Their children’s lives have changed drastically as a result of Melvin’s deportation.

Back in Guatemala, Melvin works in a call center. He earns enough to get by, but barely makes in a month what he used to earn in a day. He is fortunate that he has a car and just goes back and forth from his house to his job. He is scared to walk around on the streets because of his visible tattoos. He is a target for police and gang members alike. He told me that if he is killed here, no one will ever find out. They will see his tattoos, presume he is a gang member, and no one will ever care to investigate.

Deportee finds faith and a cure for his disease in Guatemala

I met “Freddy” in the cafeteria where he works. He is a short, heavy-set man in his late thirties. He had on a white polo shirt with a three button collar, and jeans. He had tattoos on his neck and arms. The one on his neck was a green Chinese character. Throughout the interview, he joked and laughed. It is amazing that he has kept his good humor through all he has been through: he was abused as a child, was teased in school, and was a homeless alcoholic for some time in New York and in Boston. Today, he is a transformed man, thanks to rehabilitation centers and his faith.

Freddy was born in 1971 in Guatemala City. He and his grandmother lived in zone 1. His mother abandoned him as a baby, and his father went to the United States. Freddy grew up in poverty, with barely enough to eat. When he was twelve years old, his dream finally came true: his father sent for him to come to the United States. He and his four brothers and sisters arrived in Spanish Harlem, with his father, his stepmother, and his half-brother and half-sister.

Things did not turn out as he expected. His father was an alcoholic and was abusive. At school, kids teased Freddy because of how he dressed. He resented his father for not buying him clothes so he could fit in; he had to wear his slacks and shirts from Guatemala. As Freddy got older and his older brothers left the house, they began to take care of him, buying him new clothes, shoes, and a winter coat – things his father did not provide for him.

When Freddy finished high school, his girlfriend became pregnant, and they decided to move to Boston. In Boston, Freddy met Dominican men who introduced him to the world of selling cocaine. Anxious to provide for his new family, Freddy began to sell cocaine. In 1992, he was arrested on a conspiracy charge. While he was out on bail, he continued to sell cocaine, and, in 1993, was arrested for selling three grams of cocaine to an undercover agent. Freddy never went to court. Instead, he moved back to New York and started over.

In New York, Freddy worked as a salesperson at a variety of stores, and lived in the Bronx. Things were going well for him, and he was able to make ends meet. However, Freddy developed a drinking problem, and eventually lost his job because of his drinking. Freddy decided to return to Boston around 2001. In Boston, he ended up homeless, and his alcoholism got the better of him. He was in and out of treatment programs and the hospital.

In 2002, Freddy was arrested for public intoxication in Boston. Because of this, the police realized that he had a warrant for his arrest since 1993. Freddy had never gone back to court for the drug charges. Freddy pleaded guilty to those charges, and was sentenced to nine months in prison. He served eight for good behavior, and looked forward to getting out to get his life back together again.

However, things did not work out as he expected. Freddy’s two drug charges resulted in an order of deportation. He spent eleven months in immigration detention. He did not have a lawyer to fight his case, and ended up being deported back to Guatemala.

I asked Freddy why the statute of limitations had not expired on his 1992 and 1993 charges. He told me it was because he had left the state of Massachusetts. I asked him why he was deported if his crimes were in 1992, before the passage of IIRAIRA. He told me it was because he pled guilty in 2002. I asked him why he was deported if his sentence was only for nine months, and it was a fairly minor drug offense. He said he did not know the answer, and could not afford a lawyer to help him out.

Back in Guatemala in 2005, Freddy found his grandmother’s house. He fell back into alcoholism for several months before he sought treatment. In Guatemala, Freddy found the Nicky Cruz Alcohol Rehabilitation Center, which converted him to Evangelism and got him out of his alcoholism. He spent over a year there until he was able to live on his own without alcohol. He has had a couple of relapses, but tells me he is now alcohol free.

When we spoke, Freddy was working at a Call Center, making decent money. He lived with his girlfriend in Villa Nueva. I asked him if people look at him badly because of his tattoos. He told me they initially do, but that when they see that he always has a smile on his face and is respectful, people lose their fear.

I asked Freddy if he planned to go back to the US. He told me that he is better off here in Guatemala than he was in the US. In the US, he was homeless and an alcoholic. Here, he has made a life for himself and he found God. He would love to be able to visit, to see his son and daughter. His son is seventeen, and his daughter is fifteen. He has not seen them in years, and would love to see them and to ask for forgiveness for not being a good father.

At the end of the interview, he asked me what I thought of him. That kind of caught me off guard, as I wasn’t there to judge him. I told him that I was impressed with how far he has come, and that he comes across as a pleasant, funny person. Admittedly, I did not say that when he told me he had been a drunk asking for money in the street, an image came to mind that I did not approve of.

It touched me when Freddy told me that he invites kids over to his house to have a bowl of cereal. He remembers what it was like to grow up without enough food, and reaches out to kids in his neighborhood by offering them a bowl of cereal. That struck me as a very generous and thoughtful act.

After 28 years in the US, deported for “smoking a joint”

I met “Diallo” in the cafeteria of the Call Center where he works, right after he got off of work. Diallo is in his late thirties, is light brown skin, has almond-shaped eyes, and curly short hair. He spoke with a strong Boston accent.

Diallo moved to the US when he was eight, in 1980. He is not sure exactly why his family moved, but it was related to the fact that his stepfather worked for Interpol and was killed. His mother owned several restaurants in Guatemala City, and had begun receiving threats. Shortly after they left, armed gunmen came to one of her restaurants, demanding to speak with the owner. Fortunately, they were already in Boston.

In Boston, Diallo enrolled in the third grade. He lived in a primarily white suburb, and grew up with a racially mixed group of friends. The worst trouble Diallo got into in school was for skipping classes. He graduated from Walton Vocational high school, and went to work with his uncle. He told me he didn’t go to college because he was making good money working with his uncle in shipping and construction.

Shortly after graduating from high school, Diallo was arrested for driving under the influence. He was given one year probation. In addition, the police found a few seeds of marijuana in his car, and he had to pay a $50 fine for marijuana possession. After that, Diallo stayed out of trouble for nearly a decade. But, he developed a drinking problem, and in 2000 was arrested for driving under the influence. This time, the police found a marijuana joint in the car, and he had to pay a $50 fine for that. For the DUI charge, Diallo had to serve six months in prison. When he was released, he was still dealing with alcoholism, and, in 2004, was arrested for driving while intoxicated. This time, he was given a 300 day sentence.

Diallo had been a legal permanent resident (LPR) of the United States for nearly two decades. He knew that, as an LPR, a sentence of over one year would result in him being deported from the United States. For this reason, when his lawyer was able to arrange a plea bargain for 300 days, he accepted the guilty plea for the DWI charge. For this last charge, Diallo was not actually found driving the car. He had parked it on the side of the road and had gone go to get gas for the car. This was in a primarily white neighborhood, and Diallo was with a black man, at night. Someone called the police to report suspicious activity – a black and a Latino man walking down the highway. When the police arrived, they found Diallo intoxicated and charged him for DWI. This is a charge he may have been able to beat had he gone to court, as it is not clear that he was intoxicated while he was actually driving. However, he accepted the 300 day plea bargain, as he understood that would not lead to his deportation. He was not willing to take the risk of going to trial, as any sentence over one year would result in him being deported. With no family ties in Guatemala, Diallo did not want to take that risk.

When Diallo finished his sentence, instead of being released, he was sent on a plane to Louisiana, to an immigration detention facility. Immigration had placed him in deportation proceedings, not based on his DUI and DWI charges, but based on his two marijuana possession charges. Convinced that he was being wrongfully deported, Diallo spent two and a half years in immigration detention, fighting his case. His voice broke and his eyes teared up as he told me that he spent more time behind bars fighting his immigration case than his original sentence. Two and a half years in the prime of his life. Eventually, Diallo gave up and signed his deportation order.

In 2008, Diallo landed in Guatemala, a land he barely remembered. In the US, he left his ailing mother, who had developed diabetes, and his twelve-year old daughter. Diallo has had custody of his daughter since she was six months old; she has always lived with him and his mother. Since he got in trouble, when she was eight, his daughter has lived with his mother. Diallo told me how much it hurts him not to be able to help out his mother and to help raise his daughter. Both his mother and his daughter are US citizens. Diallo, unfortunately, never applied for citizenship, even though he qualified years before he was deported.

In Guatemala, Diallo knew no one, except for his aunt who lives in Boca del Monte. He is fortunate that she lives in a relatively peaceful part of the city, where he does not have to deal with urban crime and violence to the same extent as other deportees.

His mother is still in Boston. They have spent over $15,000 in legal fees trying to get his deportation rescinded. Currently, they are in the process of appealing one of his marijuana charges. If they are successful, his deportation order could be reversed. However, it is hard at this point for his mother to pay all of the legal costs, in addition to the financial burden of raising his daughter and keeping up her house. For now, the legal proceedings are at a standstill until they can come up with the money to proceed with the appeal.

I told Diallo that there might be lawyers willing to work on his case pro bono, as it seems he may have been wrongfully deported. He said he would think about it. After fighting this case for four years, Diallo realizes that he cannot be at peace with himself until he accepts what has happened to him. Fighting the case only torments him further. Diallo has become deeply religious as a result of his experiences. He no longer drinks, and attends church regularly to keep his mind off of all he has lost, really of the life in America he lost, for smoking a joint.

Getting around Guatemala City on the Bus and Transmetro

After lunch, I picked up the phone and called Lorenzo, a deportee that a friend had recommended for an interview. I told Lorenzo that I was writing a book on deportees and wanted to talk to him. He seemed very interested, and agreed to be interviewed that afternoon.

On the phone, Lorenzo told me he had a scar on his face. That made me wonder why he had a scar. He spoke perfect English, so I presumed he had grown up in the US. Other than that, I had no idea who I was going to meet, and plenty to reflect on as I took the bus downtown.

Now that we live in San Jose de Villanueva, it is a one to one and a half hour trip downtown on two different buses. Because of the long ride, I really hoped Lorenzo would show up. The first bus is a remodeled school bus where three adults squeeze onto seats designed for two children. That bus lets me off at the Transmetro stop – the new Express buses that go from the southern suburbs to the city center - Zone One.

The Transmetro bounced me down Avenida Bolivar, past Pollo Campero, Mega Paca, and under pedestrian bridges - all frequent landmarks in Guatemala City. Pollo Campero is the national fried chicken restaurant, where, for a day's miminum wage, you can get a three piece chicken meal. The Mega Pacas are huge stores filled with second hand clothes from the United States. Mega Pacas even have K-mart style billboard with models dressed in their second hand clothes. And, pedestrian bridges dot the city, designed to prevent pedestrian accidents. They generally work, except for the ones pedestrians are scared to use because of the potential for robbery.

Further down Avenida Bolivar, we came to a line of furniture stores, where each small manufacturer exhibits their wares outside. As we rolled by, I fantasized about buying a small dresser in which to put my clothes. Having enough space to fully unpack all of our clothes is a consistent problem when we travel for temporary stays. It is never enough of a problem, though, to actually go through the trouble to purchase a new dresser. That didn’t stop me from thinking about which one I might want as we rode by.

At Don Bosco Station, the Transmetro veered off onto First Avenue, headed towards Zone 1. We passed a line of wholesale distributors of toiletries, toilet paper, shampoo, and other bathroom items. I am not sure why dealers of similar items all line up together, but it must work for them. Soon, we were on 18 Calle, with stall after stall of things for sale. Each stall is dedicated to a different item for sale – pirated DVDs, tricycles, suitcases, balls, pots, pans, clothes, and then, another Mega Paca. So many things for sale in a city where most people are too poor to buy much of anything.

I got off of the Transmetro at Plaza Muni. As I was twenty minutes early, I scoped the place out to find a spot to do the interview. I found a Pollo Campero and went back to the bus station. Once there, I saw a light-skinned guy with a blue Dodgers T-shirt on looking at me. I saw the scar on the side of his face and said “Lorenzo”? It was him.

The first thing he wanted to know was if he had a chance of returning to the US. His whole family is there – his mother, his stepfather, his cousins, his uncles, and his three kids. In Guatemala, he only has an aunt and three cousins. When he first came back ten years ago, his grandmother was here. She has since passed away.

As we were talking, I found out that Lorenzo got his scar here in Guatemala. He was standing on 18 Calle in the evening with his wife when two robbers approached him. When they demanded that he give them his phone, he punched one in the face. The other scratched him with a sharp object, leaving a huge scar across his left cheek. I asked him why he didn't just give him the stuff. He told me, “When you're from L.A., you don't do that.”

Lorenzo lives in a rough part of Guatemala City – La Limonada in Zone 5. I asked him if anyone gives him trouble there. He told me they don’t. I pointed out that they must know he has family in the US, and asked if he has any issues with extortionists. He said, thankfully, he does not. It seems as if his street smarts he developed in the US are helping him to survive here in Guatemala.

After our interview, I joined the sea of people on the Transmetro. Luckily, I got a seat. On the way back, I reflected on the interview and on how Lorenzo's life had changed. In the US, he had a car, a steady job, and partied a lot. In Guatemala, he rides the bus, and has a job that pays just enough for him and his family to get by. During the interview, I asked him if he was any less mad, now that he has been here for ten years. He says he is not – he is still mad at himself for messing up. Not a day goes by when he doesn't think about his life in the US. Not a day, for ten years.

Deportation takes father away from his two small children

Alberto is from Escuintla, a city south of Guatemala City, where he grew up with his grandparents. When he was eight years old, his mother left Guatemala for Miami. One year later, Alberto’s father was killed in Peten, Guatemala’s northernmost state.

Alberto’s father was driving a truck and was attacked, robbed, and killed. I asked Alberto if this had anything to do with the war that was going on at the time, and he told me he didn’t know. He was only nine years old, and wasn’t told much about the incident.

Alberto’s mother became the sole provider for him, and sent money from Miami to his grandparents to raise him. Alberto’s mother paid for him to study at a private, bilingual school, in the hopes that he would learn English, as they planned for him to travel to the US one day. Alberto’s grandparents earned a living selling used clothes from the United States.

When Alberto was 16, his girlfriend got pregnant, and Alberto left high school to get a job to support his newborn daughter. He only finished the eighth grade of high school, but was able to get a job in a beer bottling plant, and later, in recycling.

When he was 20 years old, in the year 2000, he decided to set out for the United States. His motives for going there were two-fold. He wanted the opportunity to earn more money for himself and his daughter. And, he wanted to see his family in the US. His mother and two siblings were in the US, and he had not seen them since they left. As they were undocumented, they feared traveling back to Guatemala. Alberto set out on his trip across Mexico, through the Arizona mountains, and made it to Miami, where his mother and siblings were.

In Miami, Alberto started out mowing lawns, but quickly found a more stable job in a recycling plant. He started out on the floor, sorting, but, once he learned how to operate the heavy equipment, was able to get better jobs. At his last job in the US, he was earning $16.50 an hour – twice the daily minimum wage in Guatemala.

Little by little, Alberto made a life for himself in the US. He married a Cuban woman, and, in 2006, they had their first baby together. In 2007, their second was born. Alberto now had a family to care for, and focused his energy on working and enjoying time with his family. His wife was a legal permanent resident of the US, but not a citizen. They never looked into applying for Alberto’s legalization; they were busy trying to make ends meet and care for a growing family.

In the summer of 2009, Alberto’s mother fell ill. He went to the hospital to see her as soon as he could get a day off of work. As he was pulling into the hospital parking lot, a man talking on his cell phone hit his car. Alberto got out of the car and saw that, although his car was damaged, the other car was not. He tried to explain to the man, in his limited English, that it was not necessary to get the insurance companies involved. Alberto did not have a driver’s license, and knew that he would get into trouble if the police arrived.

As Alberto was explaining this to the other driver, the hospital security guard showed up and began to ask Alberto for his registration and insurance papers. Alberto gave them to him, and as they were going over the details of what had happened, the Miami-Dade police came on the scene. The police officer asked Alberto for an ID, and he gave him his consular card. The police officer asked him if he was in the country legally. Alberto told him he was not. The police officer called Border Patrol, and they came and took Alberto into custody.

Alberto was in immigration detention for 72 days. His mother was fatally ill. She died while he was detained. Immigration agents allowed him 45 minutes to pay his final respects. Ten days later, he was deported to Guatemala.

Back in the US, Alberto’s wife moved in with another man once he was deported. She sold the trailer they had bought together, and only sent him $100 of the money from the sale. Alberto is concerned for the safety of his children. He is worried that his wife is drinking too much, and is concerned that she has moved in with another man. At the time of our interview, Alberto’s cousin had the children in Miami, and Alberto was in the process of figuring out how he could get the children to Guatemala with him. As his wife is unwilling to sign the papers to allow the children to travel to Guatemala, it may be very difficult for Alberto to regain custody of his children.

Alberto’s deportation took him away from a lucrative job in the US. However, his greatest sorrow is that his deportation may mean he will never see his children again.

Leaving Zona 9 for Villanueva

My husband, three kids and I spent the first two months of our three month stay in Guatemala City in a furnished apartment in zone 9, near to the Plazuela Espana. We stayed in an apartment building that often rents to foreigners, in a part of the city where foreigners and wealthy Guatemalans live. Where we lived is not quite as exclusive, elite, and utterly bourgeois as La Cañada in zone 14 or Oakland in zone 10, but it was close enough. Here is the view from our window in zone 9.

From our apartment in zone 9, it was just a few short blocks to the Zona Viva, one of the few places in Guatemala City where foreigners mingle in cafes and sports bars. We also lived close to the nice Parque del Obelisco, and at a convenient distance from the American Embassy. In addition, our apartment was just a twenty minute bus ride from Zone 1, with no traffic.

Zones 9, 10, and 14 are the places most expatriates live, except for the brave few who live in Zone 2, for easy access to downtown (and cheaper rents). These are also the areas where most elite Guatemalans reside. These zones are safer than most, and one has access to nearly everything one could need. Nevertheless, we decided to move to a working class neighborhood, where a friend of ours offered to rent us an apartment. There are many advantages to living in a working class neighborhood in Guatemala City.

We packed our things and moved to San Jose de Villanueva, a working class neighborhood in the south of Guatemala City. The biggest advantage to living here, in my view, is the fact that people live part of their lives outside. In the more exclusive zones, life is mostly lived within the confines of the home, and perhaps inside restaurants and shopping malls. In contrast, in the neighborhood we live in now, kids play freely in the park outside, children come in and out of our house, and people greet each other as they pass by. Whereas my three daughters were largely confined to the house in Zone 9, except when I took them out to Pollo Campero or to the Parque del Obelisco, in our new neighborhood, they can run out on their own and play with their newfound friends. Here's a view from the window of our new place in Villanueva.

Another advantage is the food. First of all, in our new neighborhood, there are three young women who spend all day making fresh tortillas. Each morning, they grind the corn to make the masa. Then, they spend the rest of the day making fresh, hot, delicious tortillas with their hands, meaning we can have these tasty tortillas with each meal. In addition, there are several small stores that sell fresh vegetables, meat, chicken, and fresh baked bread within walking distance. And, of course, there is a large market that has everything one could want for sale, all at the best prices.

I was concerned about moving so far from all of the action. It takes a full hour to get to Zone 1 from Villanueva. It is about a twenty minute ride on a bus, and then another 40 minutes on the Transmetro, the new modern buses that go straight downtown. However, as I only have to go to Zone 1 a couple of times a week, if that, it is not that big of a deal to get on the bus. Plus, bus rides are always fertile ground for the stuff of blogs.

Ten Years after Being Deported, Jewish Guatemalan Deportee Longs to Return to the US

Don Rafael was born in Guatemala City in 1950 into a wealthy Jewish family. His parents separated when he was young, but his mother had enough of her own money to send him to the prestigious English-American high school in Guatemala City.

As a youth, Don Rafael traveled frequently to the United States to visit his brother and other family members who lived there. His first extended stay was in 1970, when he enrolled in the University of North Florida, where he studied for two years. He traveled again to the US in 1980, this time with his wife and three-year old daughter. This time, they stayed for four years, as Don Rafael had a successful Mercedes dealership. They decided to move back, as his wife yearned to be in Guatemala again.

In 1985, their second daughter was born, in Guatemala City, and they remade their life in Guatemala. In 1989, the family unexpectedly had to flee Guatemala. Don Rafael was a witness to a political assassination, and his life was in danger. He traveled to the US first, and his family came afterwards. Once in the US, they applied for political asylum, as Don Rafael would likely be killed were he to return to Guatemala.

Their lawyer advised Don Rafael not to seek employment until his work permit arrived. Unfortunately, the lawyer closed his office without telling Don Rafael, and, when the work permit arrived, it was sent back. Unaware, Don Rafael and his family lived on their savings, without working, for over a year. When their savings were used up, they ended up at the homeless shelter.

Unwilling to violate the law by working, Don Rafael decided that his best shot would be to open a business. He made friends with the head of the homeless shelter, and the two of them opened up an import/export business, bringing shoes from Mexico for sale in the US. That venture did fairly well, and allowed Don Rafael to get back on his feet.

His next business venture was a bilingual school that did asbestos safety training in Spanish and English for laborers. The school did well, and they were able to live off of that for several years. The problem was that Don Rafael worked constantly and barely had vacations. He decided to close the school went into business with his brother, who had done very well for himself.

Don Rafael’s brother, Mateo, had a successful business doing touch-up work for cars, and Don Rafael went to work with him. He had to travel quite a bit, but stayed as a business partner of his brother for about a year and a half. Eventually, he felt as though his brother was not giving him his fair share and decided to open up his own business, doing the same thing his brother was doing.

His business did tremendously well, and, Don Rafael was making a lot of money off of his new business. He was able to buy a nice house, had five cars, and had his oldest daughter in University. However, the family had never legalized their status. Their asylum application had been denied, and the lawyer was still supposed to be appealing the case, over a decade later.

Don Rafael’s brother was not pleased with the fact that Don Rafael opened up his own business, and decided to pull some strings. Mateo was friends with the then-governor of Louisiana and was able to get immigration agents to come looking for Don Rafael. One morning, immigration agents showed up at Don Rafael’s house and told them that his brother had called immigration on them, and that they had thirty days to leave the country. They could not believe that their dreams had turned into a nightmare. Don Rafael was determined to keep his family in the US, and moved to a new address in an attempt to hide from immigration agents.

Thirty days later, they were caught. This time, they were only given four days to leave. And, Don Rafael and his older daughter were taken into custody. Doña Mariluna did what she could to gather her things, but was in a state of shock and was unable to collect some of the most valuable items. In addition, as they had just finished decorating the house, it was too much for her to bring herself to take it all apart.

When they arrived in Guatemala, they did not have a house of their own. They were lucky that Don Rafael’s mother had left them a small, simple house in the outskirts of Guatemala City. It was nothing like the house they had left behind, but they had a roof over their head.

Don Rafael was not able to secure employment in Guatemala City. He was nearly fifty years old, and too old or too qualified for any position he sought. Doña Mariluna found out that, as she had worked as a teacher before leaving Guatemala, she could collect her pension. She spent a year getting the papers together before she finally was able to collect the monies. In the meantime, they depended on the charity of their family members, who lent them furniture and gave them bags of rice and beans to eat.

Their two daughters entered into a deep depression and spent their days sleeping. Doña Mariluna tried to enroll her youngest daughter in school. However, with no record of ever having studied in Guatemala, the public schools refused to enroll her. Private schools were beyond their reach. As a result, their older daughter never finished high school.

Although they have not been able to achieve financial success in Guatemala, they are not poor either, at least by Guatemalan standards. As Don Rafael and Doña Mariluna are both from wealthy families, they both have received inheritances that they have been able to turn into income. They own several properties and collect rent from those properties. They were able to take out a loan and open up a small store in the city center.

Don Rafael explained to me that he has the opportunity to move to other countries. His mother was born in Germany, and he could move there. As a Jewish man, he could move to Israel. He also could go to Spain. However, he would rather stay in Guatemala than move to a country where he knows no one. In contrast, he would move back to the United States. He loves America. In the US, he was able to build a successful business. He received help from many kind and generous people. He would love to return to the United States.

It has been nearly ten years since they were deported, and Don Rafael hopes that they will be able to return to the US some day. He plans to apply for a visa, asking for a pardon for having overstayed his previous visa. It is his family’s dream to return to the US and re-build their life there.

A family’s fall from grace

I was a bit early on Tuesday morning for my appointment with Don Rafael. To avoid arriving early, I sat in a nearby park and reflected on my upcoming interviews with Don Rafael and his wife. I had already interviewed their daughter, Katy, so knew a bit about their story. Katy had told me that the whole family had been deported when she was just fifteen years old. She also had told me that her uncle had called immigration and reported them. That seemed a bit of an unlikely story, but not impossible.

I was anxious to meet Katy’s parents. She had painted a picture of them as honorable, honest, hardworking people whose bad luck had led to their return to Guatemala and consequent financial demise. As Katy was only fifteen when her parents were deported, it is conceivable that they omitted a few details in recounting what had happened. Since they don’t like to talk about what happened to them, because of the pain, she likely still doesn’t know the full story.

It is not my place to unearth the “real story.” Thank goodness, because, I am not sure what the real story might be, nor whether it is a good idea for Katy to know it. It is my job to create a safe space where Katy’s parents feel comfortable telling me their version of why they were deported from the US nine years ago.

It is also not my place to judge their actions or inactions. It is my place to listen with respect, compassion, and humility to their stories. Taking a few minutes to reflect on this before the interview helped me to prepare for what I was about to hear.

I met Don Rafael in his hardware shop. He came across as a very pleasant and open man, who did not hesitate to share his story with me. When I told him I am writing a book on people who have been deported to the US, the first thing he wished to clarify is that he did not enter the US illegally. Don Rafael had been traveling to the US on a multiple-entry visa for years before he decided to settle there.

To say he decided to settle in the US is a bit of an exaggeration. Rather, he was forced to flee from Guatemala because he was a witness to a political assassination in 1989. Don Rafael went to the house of one of his professors from the University to pay a visit. This professor was left-leaning, and was a potential candidate in the upcoming elections. When Don Rafael arrived at the professor’s house, he and the professor accompanied his sons to the corner to take their bus to school. As they were walking back to the house, armed gunmen came out of a parked vehicle and began to shoot at the professor. The men ran in separate directions. Don Rafael managed to escape, but not without seeing the men who shot and killed the professor. The killers found out who Don Rafael was and began to look for him in order to kill him. It was under these circumstances that Don Rafael fled the country and entered the US. His wife and two daughters came shortly afterward.

Once in the United States, Don Rafael applied for political asylum. As he was waiting for his application to be processed, he was advised not to work. They survived on their savings for over a year, before ending up on the streets, homeless. This was quite a fall from grace, as this family was quite well-off in Guatemala. Both Don Rafael and his wife, Mariluna, had attended prestigious schools in Guatemala, lived in wealthy neighborhoods, and were from upper class families.

Eventually, Don Rafael was able to find a business partner and started up a business. As such, technically, he was not employed, but simply conducting business in the US. Years later, Don Rafael’s plea for asylum was denied on the basis of lack of sufficient supporting evidence. His lawyer told him he would appeal the case, and Don Rafael and his family continued their life in the US, slowly becoming more and more successful.

After about 13 years in the US, Don Rafael finally achieved the American Dream. He bought a house for his family, a very nice abode in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He and his wife bought all new furniture and appliances for the house and were in the process of decorating it to their tastes when their worst nightmare came to fruition.

Don Rafael’s success was based on his business doing touch-up paint work for cars. He had the business for just over a year, and it was doing very well. His brother, it turns out, was in the same business, and had taught the trade to Don Rafael. Although his brother was tremendously well off, he resented the fact that Don Rafael had opened a business in the same area as him, and vowed to revenge him.

Don Rafael’s brother was friends with the then-Governor of Louisiana and was able to pull some strings to ensure that immigration agents found out about Don Rafael’s denied application for asylum. For this reason, immigration agents came to their house, and ordered the family deported.

Nine years later, this family still suffers tremendously from what happened to them. Katy was never able to finish high school, as she did not have the proper papers to register in Guatemala. Don Rafael was never able to get a job in Guatemala, as potential employers said he was too old and overqualified. When they first arrived, they survived on their credit cards from the US and the good will of their family in Guatemala. Today, nine years later, they have enough money to eat and keep a roof over their head. But, the pain they carry in their hearts has not disappeared.

When I left their house, after a delicious meal with Doña Mariluna, it was clear to me why Katy has so much respect and esteem for her parents. Over lunch, Doña Mariluna told me that, after losing nearly all of her material possessions first in Guatemala, and then in the United States, she has learned not to value material goods as much. And, having lived on the goodwill of others both in the United States and in Guatemala, she has developed real compassion for the poor in Guatemala, something quite rare among Latin American elites.

From Tourist to Detainee – How a fifty-year old woman spent two months in immigration detention instead of having the vacation she had planned

On Saturday afternoon, Doña Juanita invited my research assistant and I to a sumptuous lunch at her house. We ate baked pasta and baked chicken, with “borracha” – a delicious cake – for dessert. As the owner of a bakery, a farm, and a construction firm, Doña Juanita is a well-off woman. Her son dined with us, and told us that he takes his children to Disney World every year for vacation.

The motive of our visit was two-fold. I was there to interview Doña Juanita’s sister, Doña Mabel, who has been deported from the United States. Elisa, her lawyer, was there to discuss the possibility of Doña Mabel pressing charges against the US government for the way she was treated by immigration agents and the guards at the Elizabeth detention Center.

Doña Mabel traveled to the United States about three months ago, on a tourist visa. She was hoping to go to the US to relax and get away from some of the very stressful events she had experienced in Guatemala, including the death of her son. When she arrived and was being processed through immigration, the Border Patrol agent took her aside and put her in a separate room – secondary inspection. No one told her the motive for her being held. Next thing she knew, she was taken on a bus to Elizabeth Detention Center. She remained there for ten days before anyone came to speak to her about her case.

When she finally had a chance to speak with someone, she was told that she had overstayed a previous visa, and that she had tried to conceal that fact through false exit stamps on her passport. At least, this is what I presume she was told, as this is what appears in her removal documents. She told me she had no idea why she had been detained. Once I explained what her documents indicated, she recounted to me the reasons for her apparent lack of an exit stamp on her previous visit.

It turns out that the last time Doña Mabel was in the US, she became very ill. She explained that she experienced amnesia and was unable to function. Her daughter had to travel to the United States to bring her back to Guatemala. She was not well when she traveled back to Guatemala, and had to be taken out in a quasi-unconscious state. Due to her condition, she was unable to locate her passport, and was issued a consular pass that allowed her to travel to Guatemala. Her passport stayed in the US, and it was sent to her later. For this reason, there was not a valid exit stamp from her previous visit.

Doña Mabel was never given the opportunity to explain her situation. Instead, when she got off of the plane and presented her visa and passport to the Border Patrol agent, she was taken into custody. When she finally had a hearing ten days later, she was told the only way she could stay in the US was to ask for political asylum. Doña Mabel asked for asylum, on the basis of her son, a police officer, having been killed by narco-traffickers. Because she was asking for asylum, she was detained until her hearing. She was finally denied asylum nearly two months later and ordered deported.

Altogether, Doña Mabel spent two months in immigration detention in the US. She is a woman in her fifties who suffers from high blood pressure and is generally not in very good health. At one point, she was made to sleep in an upper bunk, but was unable to lift herself onto the upper bunk. Due to the efforts she made to get onto the upper bunk, her blood pressure rose drastically, and she passed out. She was taken to the hospital, in shackles. She remained in the hospital for five days, and was shackled and handcuffed the whole time. When she ate and went to the bathroom, she remained shackled. The shackles bruised her legs severely.

When Doña Mabel finally was to be deported, she was transferred from New Jersey to Louisiana to board the plane. She did not do well during the trip, and nearly had a stroke. Because of this, she had to be hospitalized again, and missed her plane. When she finally stabilized, she was able to travel and was sent to Guatemala.

Instead of the relaxing vacation in the US she had hoped for, Doña Mabel spent two months in immigration detention, where she was treated like a criminal and denied her dignity as a human being. At present, her family has hired a lawyer to press charges.

Unfortunately, what happened to Doña Mabel appears to be consistent with U.S. laws. Doña Mabel was never officially admitted to the United States. As such, she is not protected by the Constitution. In addition, immigration agents have the right to take into custody anyone they suspect to be in the US illegally. Whether or not she actually had a valid visa, so long as there were grounds to suspect she did not, she could be taken into custody.

The treatment she received, although inhumane and degrading, is the norm at many detention centers. As a woman who expects to be treated better, it seems atrocious. It is atrocious - for everyone who experiences it. However, she is among the few detainees with the resources to do something about what happened to her.

Dreams Shattered, Hope Lost: The story of a fifteen year old deportee

“My last Christmas in the US, I couldn’t even think of anything to ask for; I had everything,” Katy told me, as she reminisced on her life in the United States. Katy lived with her parents and her sister in a spacious house in suburban Louisiana. Her parents moved to the US when she was two years old, and were able to achieve the American dream. They had a house, several cars, and two daughters headed for success.

Katy’s father had his own business painting cars, her mother was a housewife, and Katy was a typical American teenager. On weekends, she went out with her friends to the mall or the movies. Tears streamed down her face when she thought of all she had lost – of the life she once lived.

Katy was fifteen years old when immigration agents told her family they had a week to leave the country. She was finishing up middle school, and her sister was enrolled in college. This was their worst nightmare. Their parents moved to another town, in the hopes that they could delay their departure. However, immigration agents soon found the family. When the immigration agents arrived, they handcuffed Katy, who was waiting at the school bus stop. “It was in front of everybody,” she told me.

Katy’s father and sister were taken to a county jail, and Katy and her mother were allowed to stay at a friend’s house for their last four days in the country. Although Katy had been in the US for thirteen years, and her father had been in the US since before she was born, they had not successfully legalized their status, and were deported to a country Katy knew nothing about.

When they were deported to Guatemala, Katy could not believe how drastically her life had changed. They were fortunate that they had a place to go – Katy’s grandmother had passed away and left them a house. However, it was a simple dwelling, with adobe walls, a tin roof, and the bathroom was outside on the patio.

It is already difficult to be an adolescent, and Katy did not deal well with this fall from riches to rags. She fell into a deep depression, and barely left the house for over a year. Unable to read or write Spanish, she never went back to school.

In the US, Katy excelled in school, was popular with her friends, and never got into trouble. She had dreams of becoming a veterinarian, and her sister was already studying to be a doctor. When they were deported to Guatemala, her dreams were shattered.

They have been here for nine years, but the wounds are very deep, and Katy still hurts from what happened to her when she was fifteen. She shed tears for most of the interview. Just thinking about what happened to her and her family was too much to bear.

Katy still dreams of going back to America. Unfortunately, that is not possible right now, and she must continue to make her life in Guatemala.

A No-Show Can Be a Learning Experience

This morning, I set out to conduct an interview with a deportee who works in a Call Center here in Guatemala City. I suspected he might not show up, as he did not answer my calls this morning. Sure enough, he never came to the interview.

We were supposed to meet at 9:30 am near where he works, as he had to be at work at 11:00am. When it became clear that he was not going to show up, I decided to take advantage of the fact that I was near a Call Center – a prime place of employment for deportees.

Call Centers (called by the English name here as well!) are places where U.S. customers call the 1-800 or 1-888 numbers on the back of their credit cards or on their service requests. Instead of having people in New York or Atlanta answer the phone, many of these operations have been outsourced – transferred overseas. Deportees who have lived several years in the US are ideal employees for Call Centers in Guatemala. They speak English and are familiar with the “American” way of doing things.

The irony of all of this fascinates me. Guatemalans are deported from the United States back to their country of origin. One of the strategies used to deport people is to raid places of employment, and one of the rallying cries for increasing deportations is that “They take our Jobs!” However, deportees in Guatemala often find work at US-based companies (CitiBank, Sears) answering phone calls from US customers. Of course, they are paid a fraction of what they would be paid to do the same work in the US.

Beyond the irony, knowing that many deportees work at Call Centers, I decided I would try and see if I could secure a different interviewee, as my scheduled interviewee hadn’t shown up. I knew this could be a bit complicated. It is not appropriate to approach people and ask them if they have been deported. Instead, I decided to tell people that I am doing a quick survey of people who have lived in the US, and then try to determine, in a discreet fashion, if they have been deported.

I pulled out my clipboard, and, as soon as I spotted a person with the Call Center uniform on, I asked him if he would be willing to answer a few questions.

“I am doing a quick survey of people who have lived in the US. Have you ever lived in the United States?”

“Yes”

“For how long?

“Six years”

“When did you come back to Guatemala?”

“In 1995”

“And, why did you come back?”

“My whole family came back, and I came back with them.”

“Okay, Thanks!”

I believed the first guy. He had come back in 1995, when deportations of long-term residents were fairly uncommon. So, I figured I still had a chance with other employees of the Call Center.

I saw a group of people entering the Call Center, and asked them if any had lived in the US. One guy said he had, and began to speak to me in English. He had lived there for twelve years, and had recently come back. He also told me he came back with his family. I thought he might not be being completely honest, but thanked him for his time.

I decided to give it one last shot. An older man was walking alone towards the Call Center. As he was alone, I thought he might be more likely to admit it if he had been deported. He told me he had lived in the US for twelve years, and had come back in 2005. But, when I asked him if he didn’t mind telling me why he had come back, he told me he’d rather not say. For me, this meant he must have been deported. So, I asked him if I could contact him at a later day for a longer interview. He declined.

Turns out I didn’t get any interviews or interviewees out of my trip across town. However, I think I learned a few important things. First of all, it will be very difficult to find deportees without a direct contact with someone they know and trust. Secondly, although my interviewees often insist there is no stigma attached to being a deportee, these discussions shows this is not exactly the case. The stigma is not as strong as in Jamaica, where deportees cannot find work. However, being deported is clearly not something to be proud of, and some people are not willing to admit that they have been deported.

Despite my relative lack of success this morning, I am going to give this strategy one last try. There is another Call Center fairly close to my daughter’s day care. The workers come out between five and six pm and some of them go to a café across the street. At least, this is what I suspect based on walking by there twice around that time and hearing people speak English. So, I am going to go to that café this afternoon and see if I can’t engage any potential interviewees in conversation.

Finding deportees in Guatemala is not easy. But, it is not impossible either. So far, I have completed 12 of the 30 interviews I need to complete. It is time to implement new strategies to ensure that I find the 30 that I need.

Co-Operation between Police and Immigration Agents Leads to the Deportation of Long-Term Residents of the US

I arrived at the airport just after 10:00am this morning to greet the two planeloads of deportees scheduled to arrive today. A flight from Miami, with 24 deportees, had already arrived when I walked in the door. One woman, twenty-three men. I was struck by the fact that at least five of the deportees were wearing their work clothes. One man had on a full McDonald’s uniform – cap and all. Another had on a crisp uniform with a striped shirt with the initials IBS on one side and his name “Domingo” embroidered on the other.

I had a chance to talk to one man who was wearing a golf course uniform – a green shirt with beige shorts. He told me he was getting ready to leave the house to go to work when ICE agents raided his house. He had been in the US for fifteen years, and had never been in trouble with the law. He was unaware that he had an outstanding deportation order, yet that was the motive for ICE agents coming to his house. In the US, he was an Evangelical pastor, and plans to go back to his town in northern Guatemala and spread the word of God.

Another man I met had lived in Orlando for four years. He took a Greyhound bus to Miami to get his Guatemalan passport. On the way back, ICE agents boarded the bus and checked everyone’s papers. He was undocumented, and ICE agents arrested him and deported him.

The second flight came in at twelve noon. There were 112 deportees aboard – only one woman. This flight originated in Louisiana, and made a stop in Georgia before coming to Guatemala. All of the people on board had been living in the US when they were picked up by ICE agents on the streets, in the criminal justice system, or in their homes.

I met two people who told me they were stopped on the highway at routine checkpoints. The first man told me he was pulled over in Akron, OH. According to him, the police officer pulled him over for DWL – “driving while Latino.” When the police officer found out he did not have a valid license, he was arrested and taken into custody. From the jail, the police called immigration and he was placed in deportation proceedings. Another person told me he was driving in Raleigh, NC when he was pulled over by the police in a routine stop. He had a valid driver’s license and his papers for his car were in order. However, the police officer noticed his accent and asked him for his immigration papers. He told the police officer that they were in his house. The officer arrested him and said he had to prove his legal status before he would be released. This man had been in the US for nearly twenty years. It turned out that his visa had expired, and he was deported.

A young man asked me to borrow my phone to call his family to come pick him up. When he finished talking, I asked him how long he had been in the US. He told me he had been there for 15 years, since he was three years old. In the US, he was a legal permanent resident, as were his parents. When he was 17, he got into trouble for driving without a license. He missed his court date, and was arrested. For these two crimes – driving without a license, and missing a court date – he was sentenced to two years in prison. As he was a minor, he only had to serve six months. At the end of his sentence, he was deported to Guatemala. I kept asking him to explain the details of his story to me, because it didn’t make sense to me that he could be deported on the basis of such minor infractions. I have no doubt that, with a good lawyer, he would have been able to avoid deportation.

I met another man whose story is unbelievable. He was adopted at the age of nine by American parents. They took him to the US, where he finished high school and went to college. He finished college and was working as a mechanical drafter. When he was in his thirties, he got into trouble with the law because of possession of drugs, and did time in prison. When he was released from prison, he was deported. It turned out that, even though his adoptive parents are American, they had to take the extra step to naturalize him in order for him to become a US citizen. They never did; he never did it on his own. And, today, he is not a citizen, and thus subject to deportation. Today, he found himself in Guatemala, the country he left with his parents at age nine.

What I saw in the airport today is that the cooperation between local police and immigration agents is creating a situation where police are asking people they encounter on the streets to prove their legal status in the US. I’d have to ask police officers to find out for sure how they are making the determination as to who is and who isn’t a citizen. However, it seems as if they are guessing on the basis of physical appearance and accent. And, in a diverse country such as the US, you can’t just look at someone and tell who is a citizen and who isn’t.

A Tattooed Deportee

This afternoon, I ventured downtown to meet Jose Carlos for an interview. We met at his brother’s office, where there was an empty room quiet enough to do the interview. We sat down, I told him about the project, and Jose Carlos agreed to tell me his story.

Jose Carlos went to the United States as a preschooler. He lived with his father for one year in Los Angeles, and then moved to live with his mother in Houston a year later. Jose Carlos and his mother both had temporary permits to live in the US and arrived via airplane. In Houston, Jose Carlos went to Kindergarten through eighth grade in Southwest Houston, a primarily black and Latino community. When he went to high school, his family moved to North Houston, to a whiter, more affluent community.

In North Houston, Jose Carlos had a diverse group of friends, mostly Asian and Latino. He finished high school, but began getting into trouble while he was in high school. He was picked up by the police for small amounts of marijuana on one occasion and for riding in a stolen car on another occasion. He told me he didn’t join any gangs, but enjoyed going out and having fun, and that this got him into trouble.

Jose Carlos is good at drawing, and became a tattoo artist. He was able to make a decent living with that. Since he was working for himself, Jose Carlos didn’t think to renew his work visa when it expired.

One evening, shortly after he turned 21, Jose Carlos left a party with his girlfriend. He had been drinking, yet decided to drive home. He got into an accident, and was sentenced to six months in the county jail. When he was released from the county jail, immigration agents came to pick him up, and he went to immigration detention.

In immigration detention, Jose Carlos planned to fight his deportation case. He had been in the US for eighteen years. He was 22, and had been there since he was four. His parents are both legal permanent residents, and he thought he would have a case. However, to win, he needed a lawyer. And, Jose Carlos didn’t have the money – nearly $10,000 – that the lawyer wanted. So, in 2005, Jose Carlos agreed to be deported to the country he left when he was four years old.

Although Jose Carlos had few ties in Guatemala, he did have a brother in Guatemala City who had come back from the US of his own accord a few years before. He also had cousins and other family members who helped him find a place and a job.

Jose Carlos got a job delivering boxes, and then a job at a bar where his English skills were an asset. After a few months in the capital, he headed to Panajachel – a prime tourist destination in Guatemala. There, with his English skills, he was able to find work in a bar and did okay for himself. He traveled around Guatemala a bit, getting to know the country that he now calls home.

At the moment, Jose Carlos is back in Guatemala City, where he works in a call center. He makes about US $500 a week, answering calls for a major US company. It’s enough to pay the bills down here, but not enough to have the lifestyle he had in the US.

Jose Carlos told me he is happy to be back in Guatemala. He has been back for four years, and doesn’t wish to go back to the US. He recalls people in the US being materialistic and superfluous, and having a sense of entitlement that you don’t find in Guatemala. I asked him for an example. He pointed out that, in Guatemala, you can see a man picking his nose with his fingers on the bus, not caring what others might think. Or, people hanging out the door of a bus. “Here,” he said, “you can do what you want, and nobody gives a fuck.”

I asked Jose Carlos how people treat him here. Looking at him, it is fairly obvious that he grew up in the US – his demeanor, his clothes, his walk, and his tattoos give it away. With his urban gear and tattoos, Guatemalans are likely to presume he is a gangbanger. He told me that the police stop him here for no reason. When they do, he shows them his national ID, his work ID, and tells them he is coming home from work. They frisk him, and then let him go. He is okay with that. He admits he has more rights in the US – that the police wouldn’t kill him there, although they could here. But, so long as he stays on the right side of the law, he thinks he will be okay.

I asked him how other Guatemalans see him, does he cover up his tattoos? He told me he used to, but that he doesn’t any more. People are often scared of him, but he says he can’t do anything about that. Women clutch their purses; people cross the street. They see his tattoos and presume he is a bad person. He says his tattoos provide him with a certain level of protection in what can be a dangerous city. People are scared of him.

Jose Carlos is 26 years old and has his life ahead of him. He wants to travel around Latin America. He should be able to do this with his tattooing skills, but needs to get the money together to buy all of the equipment he will need. Returning to Guatemala was definitely a life-changing experience for Jose Carlos. As for what the future holds, only time will tell.

Looking for deportees in the Zona 19

About a month ago, I met a deportee, Andy, at the airport in Guatemala City. He was tall, well-dressed, and had his beard shaved into a goatee. He looked as though he had spent most of his life in the US. Turns out he had. He barely remembered Guatemala, as he left here with his father when he was just a child.

Andy told me his story while we were at the airport, waiting for him to be processed. He had gotten into a verbal argument with his girlfriend while they were on the highway. She began to hyperventilate and demanded he call an ambulance. When the ambulance showed up, she told the police officer he had threatened her and had hit her. Andy was taken into custody, and sentenced to six months in jail for domestic violence.

When his jail term was up, the police turned Andy over to immigration agents. Although Andy’s father is a legal permanent resident and Andy qualified for legal status, he had never followed through with the paperwork. He owned his own business in Arizona, and didn’t need a green card to work. So, he let his paperwork slide, and fell out of status. He became an undocumented immigrant. When the immigration authorities figured this out, they placed him in deportation proceedings. That’s how Andy ended up at the airport, after over thirty years in the US, with four US citizen children, and few family ties in Guatemala.

I asked Andy if I could contact him in about a month to see how he was doing. He didn’t have a phone number, but gave me an address in Zona 19 of Guatemala City. I told him I’d stop by in a few weeks.

Today, Nory, my research assistant, and I made our way to the Zona 19. The address Andy gave me is in a working-class part of the Zona 19, not the poorer parts that are on the peripheries, but not the best part of town either. On the way there, we passed through the local market and by a cantina on the corner. There was an old man selling fruits on the opposite corner.

When I got to the address, I was a bit surprised. There was no number on the door, and the place look halfway-constructed. From the outside, it appeared as if the house had a makeshift roof, and the metal door on the outside was composed of several pieces of metal put together. It was clearly the poorest house on the block. We knocked on the door and an old lady answered, through a small hole. She told us she had lived there for less than a month, and that she did not know where the previous occupants were.

We decided to try the neighbors’ door. A woman answered the buzzer over the intercom. Nory told her we were looking for Andy next door. The lady appeared to know who we were talking about, but told us she had no information on where he was. At the house on the other side, a young man quickly told us he had no idea who Andy was or where he lived.

There are several possible explanations for this – the most obvious being that the address was simply wrong. However, the lady on the intercom appeared to know who Andy was. Plus, the new occupant told us she had lived there for less than a month – meaning she would have moved in shortly after Andy arrived.

Nory speculated that Andy may have had to move to avoid extortion. The part of Zona 19 we were in is well-known for its criminal enterprises. It is conceivable that the local extortionists found out that Andy had come from the US and he had to move to avoid paying them.

He might have also moved because the house was in bad conditions, and he could afford to move with his aunt to somewhere more comfortable. Andy spoke perfect English and may have gotten a job in a call center, allowing him to pay for a better apartment.

It is odd that the neighbors told us they had no idea who he was. Andy does not look like a typical Guatemalan, and he would have called attention to himself by his height, his clothes, and his way of speaking. It is unlikely that no one would have noticed his coming.

We will probably never know what happened to Andy, but it was quite an adventure to go out to the Zona 19 to try and find out.

Uprooted from all he knew: the story of a teenage deportee re-adjusting to life in Guatemala

I met Eric at the Guatemalan Air Force Base about a month ago, shortly after he got off of the plane. It was apparent to me that he grown up in the US. His soft skin, urban gear, walk, mannerisms and demeanor gave him away as a US Latino. I approached him to ask if he was from Guatemala City. He told me he was. I asked Eric if he would give me his contact number so that I could call him in about a month to see how he was doing back in Guatemala.

Eric gave me the number, but told me he planned on going back to the US. So, if I didn’t find him at the number he gave me, I shouldn’t be surprised.

I called the number yesterday. A woman answered and gave me Eric’s cell phone number. I was able to reach him, and he remembered who I was. We agreed to meet up in Metro Norte in Zona 18, not too far from where he is staying. Zona 18 is one of the rougher neighborhoods in Guatemala City, but the Metro Norte where we met seemed to be a pretty secure place. It is a large shopping center, and we met in the Food Court.

Eric told me he had traveled to the United States when he was eleven years old, to join his mother, who had left three years before. He went on an airplane alone, with a tourist visa, as his mother was undocumented, and was not able to come for her son or to apply for an immigrant visa.

Once in the US, Eric went to middle school, and then high school in Inglewood, Los Angeles. He got mixed up with gangs for a while when he was in high school, but decided to quit after just a short time. In his last year of high school, Eric’s mother became ill. She hurt her back and was unable to continue working in the garment factory.

Eric had to drop out of school and get a job to support his mother. He had no trouble finding low-wage work, and worked two jobs. He met a Salvadoran girl, and they got married.

It had been one year that Eric had been out of school. He was 19 years old, and was working and living with his wife, who was expecting a baby. One evening, a friend of Erics’s asked him for a ride down the street. Eric dropped him off and was on his way.

Next thing he knew, the cops came. The police arrested Eric, as his friend tried to steal a car right after getting out of Eric’s car. He was charged as an accessory to the crime. Eric was sentenced to fifteen days in jail. When it was time for him to be released, the police handed him over to immigration agents.

Eric had overstayed his tourist visa for the past eight years, and was undocumented in the US. The immigration agents took Eric to a detention center.

Eric pleaded asylum, on the basis that there are many gangs in Guatemala that target young men such as himself. His asylum plea was denied, and five months later, Eric was deported to the country he left when he was eleven years old.

In Guatemala City, Eric’s aunt came to pick him up and he went to stay with her. Eric spoke with his wife, and they have decided that once the baby is born, she will apply for citizenship. She is currently a legal permanent resident, and soon will qualify for citizenship. Once she has her citizenship, she and the baby will come to live in Guatemala with Eric. They will apply for Eric to return to the United States as her husband. They hope that he will be granted an immigrant visa.

As Eric is waiting for his wife to come, he plans to begin working in Guatemala. Since he speaks English fluently, he was able to find a job at a call center. Call centers pay about Q3000 or Q4000 a month (US$400 to US$500) – enough for a small family to get by. But, not enough for Eric to have the lifestyle he had in the US with new clothes, a car, and all of the latest technology.

In order to begin working, however, Eric has to get his Guatemalan papers. The day we met up, he was working on getting his birth certificate. With that, he will be able to get his resident ID card.

Slowly, but surely, Eric is making a life for himself in Guatemala. Nevertheless, the moment he can, he plans to return to the United States. Back in the US, he plans to finish high school and go to college. Some day, he’d like to be an architect.

Another Day of Mass Deportation - 280 Deportees Arrived in Guatemala City Airport on Friday

On Friday morning, I went to the Guatemala Air Force Base again. There were three planeloads of deportees scheduled to arrive – with a total of 280 deportees for the day. The first plane, with 104 deportees on board, had already arrived.

The room was packed with people, waiting to be called by the immigration officials, standing in line to change dollars or to call their relatives, and going to see the Health ministry officials.

This plane had arrived from San Antonio, TX, and nearly all of the passengers had been caught attempting to cross into the United States. Only three of the passengers had been deported on criminal grounds – the rest for lack of legal papers.

One young man told me it was his second time being deported. He had moved to the US when he was sixteen, and had lived there for ten years. In Michigan, he had a wife and two kids waiting for him. He planned to visit his family in Xela, and try again. With two small children in Michigan, he didn’t see any other option. His main concern was that he might be kidnapped in Mexico. Apparently, kidnappings are on the rise. The kidnappers hold you and demand six thousand dollars from your family. If you don’t come up with it, they kill you.

A young deportee from Guatemala considered himself lucky he had not been kidnapped. It was his first time trying to go to the US. He went alone, with 5,000 quetzales on him – about US $800. Halfway through Mexico, he was attacked by armed gunmen and robbed. Despite being penniless, he decided to keep on going. With the kindness of a few Mexicans, he made it to the border, and almost into the US, before he was nabbed by the Border Patrol.

I was surprised to see two dozen women among the passengers on the first plane. Nearly all deportees are men, and this is usually reflected in the people arriving on the planes. I asked the women why there were 26 women on their plane, and they shrugged their shoulders. The women told me they had all been accosted at the border, but had not traveled together. One petite woman told me she had been hit on the head by Border Patrol agents, even though she had already surrendered. Many of the women were headed to the US to join their partners, who were already there. Some intended to head back to the border.

The second planeload of deportees came from Mesa, Arizona, with 132 deportees. Nineteen of them were women. One young man on the plane stood out because of his sharp clothes, sparkling clean tennis shoes, fat wad of bills, street demeanor, and fully tattooed upper body. I noticed him going around talking to quite a few of the other deportees. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was arranging a group of people right there at the airport to attempt to re-enter the US. Just before leaving the airport, he changed shirts with another deportee. He traded his fresh T-shirt for a long-sleeved shirt that covered up his tattoos. Not a bad idea in a country where people with tattoos are automatically presumed to be gang-members, and where social cleansing is common.

The third planeload was much smaller, 21 passengers, and from the interior of the US, meaning most passengers would have been long-term residents picked up by immigration agents on the streets of the US.

280 deportees in one day is a lot for Guatemala to absorb. The few services they usually offer deportees – a meal, a ride to the bus station, a ticket home for some, currency exchange – were thinly stretched, and many people weren’t able to get any of them.

Watching mass deportation in action never ceases to amaze me.

What happens to deportees who arrive in Guatemala City?

Today was another busy day at the Fuerza Aérea Guatemalteca – The Guatemalan Air Force base - where planeloads of deportees arrive most weekdays.

The deportees arrive on chartered airplanes, which charge about $25,000 per flight to Guatemala. On the airplane, they are handcuffed and shackled. If they give them food or water during the flight, the passengers have to figure out how to eat with the handcuffs on.

Once off the plane, deportees are greeted by Guatemalan soldiers and various government liaisons. They walk single file into a room, where they sit in rows of white plastic chairs. On each chair is a paper bag with a sandwich and a drink for them to eat in case they arrive hungry. The food is provided by the Ministry of Foreign Relations. Once everyone is seated, an immigration agent explains to the deportees the process they must go through in order to leave the Air Force base. He or she also welcomes them to Guatemala and reminds them to use their real name, as they have nothing to fear, now that they are in their own countries.

Each deportee is called by name to be processed by immigration agents. The immigration agents verify that they are indeed Guatemalan, and not Ecuadorian, for example. They also ask when they left Guatemala and through which port of exit. Each deportee must also be checked by the Ministry of Health officials, whose job it is to find out if the deportees have any communicable diseases. The most common problems are respiratory diseases, and the occasional case of tuberculosis. The Ministry of Health officials wear surgical masks, as do many of the immigration agents. This is especially because of the H1N1 scare. Each deportee also has to have his or her record checked by the Guatemalan police, to ensure that they do not have an outstanding warrant in Guatemala.

Deportees are also provided with a limited number of services. Banrural, a Guatemalan bank, exchanges US dollars for Guatemalan quetzals at the market rate. They don’t change any other currency, so people arriving with Mexican pesos have to wait until they exit to change money. The Ministry of Foreign Relations provides deportees with a two minute phone call to whoever is coming to pick them up. In some cases, they are permitted to call the United States, especially if they need to call the US in order to get the phone number for a relative in Guatemala. The Ministry of Employment also has its liaisons available, who can point deportees to jobs for which they may qualify. In reality, though, few deportees are able to secure employment in this way.

Finally, deportees are given their luggage, and are allowed to leave. The Ministry of Foreign Relations supplies a bus which takes the deportees to terminals where they can take a bus to their home towns. People who are unable to contact their relatives are taken on this same bus to the Casa del Migrante, where they can stay for two days as they try to locate their relatives.

Every day at the airport, a variety of problems arise. Today, two of the passengers had health problems. One woman almost suffered a stroke before being deported from the US, and came directly from the hospital. A man had a severely painful hernia that barely permitted him to walk. I met another man who thought he had been wrongfully deported. He had lived in the US illegally for six years, and then returned to Guatemala. Back in Guatemala, he had a good job and was able to secure a tourist visa to go to the US. However, upon arriving in Guatemala, immigration agents placed him under arrest for his previous illegal stay in the US. His plan to spend a month’s vacation in the US turned into a month-long stay in an immigration detention center before being deported back to Guatemala. Unfortunately for him, the US embassy in Guatemala which granted him the visa did not know that he was ineligible for re-entry based on his previous illegal stay.

Another man I met had lived in the US for eighteen years. When he first arrived in the US in 1991, he was stopped at the border and ordered deported. Once released from immigration custody, however, he did not leave the country. He was able to secure a work visa in the US a couple of years later, and continued to renew this visa until 2005, when his renewal was denied. Nevertheless, he remained in the US, with his wife and daughter who are undocumented like him, as well as his two US citizen children. One morning, he was driving on the highway in Alabama. A police officer pulled him over for speeding. The police officer also used this opportunity to check his records with immigration agents, and found that he had an outstanding deportation order from 1991. He was taken into custody and deported.

Historian Mae Ngai makes the case that, aside from murder and rape, illegal entry is the only crime in the US which doesn’t have a statute of limitations. Thus, this man was deported for the relatively minor infraction of ignoring a deportation order in 1991 – eighteen years later. Had he committed another crime such as robbery or tax evasion in 1991, the statute of limitations would mean that he couldn’t be punished for those crimes. With illegal entry however, this is not the case. I asked him what he was going to do now that he was back in Guatemala while his wife and three kids were in the Alabama. He wasn’t sure yet.

There are no reliable data on how many Guatemalans return to the US once deported, but some estimates are as high as 90 percent. People who have their families in the US are particularly likely to attempt to re-enter. The punishment for re-entry is often at least two years in jail. Deportees are well aware of this, as well as the likelihood that they will be caught crossing the border. Faced with the choice between permanent separation from their spouses and children and the possibility of jail time and another deportation, many take the risk.

A cab driver who told me that one day four deportees leaving the Air Force base contracted him to take them straight back to the border with Mexico. A religious leader told me that many of the migrants that stay at the shelter he offers use their time there to plan their return to the US together.

Deportation is costly, breaks up families, and is a waste of resources when many deportees simply turn around and attempt to re-enter the US. Those who are successful at re-entering return to their lives in the US. Those who are unsuccessful join the over two million people in the US criminal justice system.