Separated by U.S. border patrol, one pregnant woman searches for her
husband
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[March 24, 2021]
By Mimi Dwyer
DEL RIO, Texas (Reuters) - Nehemie
Montrose, a mother-to-be from Haiti, stood anxiously outside a respite
center for migrants in Del Rio, Texas, waiting for the daily border
patrol buses dropping off migrants who had recently crossed the
U.S.-Mexico border.
For five days Nehemie, 29, had waited and watched people get off the
buses in single file. Again her husband, Josue Macon, was not among
them. They had crossed the Rio Grande river that separates Texas from
Mexico days earlier and been taken into custody by U.S. border patrol
agents. She had not seen him since.
Inside a border patrol station, the couple was separated and Josue was
sent to a men's outdoor holding area, Nehemie said. That was the last
she saw of him before she was taken to the center in Del Rio, Texas,
where she now waited for any word of his whereabouts.
"Every day I think my husband is coming," Nehemie said as she sat
outside the center on Sunday afternoon. "I wait so much and he doesn't
come." She clasped her palms together. She had written Josue's name on
one of them with a pen, and added a Spanish inscription: "I miss my
love. I am suffering so much."
Cases like Nehemie's highlight the scramble on the ground as increasing
number of migrants arrive at crowded border patrol facilities, and U.S.
authorities have to make swift case-by-case calls about whom to release,
whom to detain and whom to expel.
A SEPARATION
After U.S. border patrol separated Nehemie and her husband in custody,
Nehemie fell asleep for a few hours. When she woke she asked about her
husband. She was told he was gone, she said.
In the Spanish she had picked up since leaving Haiti three years
earlier, Nehemie said she begged officers for help. She told them she
was pregnant, that the couple had planned to go to his family in the
United States, whom she had never met. How could she go there without
him?
She said her pleas for help went unanswered. Instead, she was put on a
bus and taken to the Val Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition (VVBHC), an
organization that has been helping released migrants in the border town
of Del Rio and runs the respite center. She does not understand why she
was released but her husband was not.
U.S. Customs and Border Protection declined to comment on the specifics
of Nehemie's case. It said in a statement that migrants could be
released pending an immigration hearing on a "case-by-case" basis,
taking into consideration "legal requirements, COVID-19 protocols,
changes in Mexican law, U.S. holding capacity, and the health situation
of the individual."
The Biden administration has hammered the message that the border is
closed and that most arriving migrants, other than children traveling
without legal guardians, will be expelled from the country under a
Trump-era public health order put in place to limit the spread of the
novel coronavirus.
But in practice, the government is releasing thousands of migrants,
mostly families, in Del Rio, the Rio Grande Valley, and elsewhere, in
part due to a change in law in one Mexican state that limits which
families the United States can return.
Tiffany Burrow, director of operations for the VVBHC, told Reuters she
has seen 100 people released on average per day to the facility since
the end of February, mostly Haitian families.
She said cases like Nehemie's, where released migrants have no idea what
has happened to family members they had been traveling with, were a
daily occurrence.
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Nehemie Montrose, a 29 year old Haitian migrant, sits outside Val
Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition for the fifth day in a row while
waiting for her husband to appear in Del Rio, Texas, U.S., March 21,
2021. Montrose, who is five months pregnant, crossed the Rio Grande
river from Ciudad Acuna, Mexico with her husband, Josue Macon, into
the small central Texas border town of Del Rio on March 16. When
U.S. border patrol took them into custody, agents separated the
couple, sending Josue to an outdoor holding area. REUTERS/Adrees
Latif
On the same day Nehemie spoke to Reuters outside the center, a
Venezuelan husband and his pregnant wife were holding vigil for his
mother, who had not been released with them. They, too, hoped she
would arrive on the bus. Like Josue, she did not.
'I FEEL AWFUL'
All around Nehemie at the respite center, families were enjoying
their first moments of freedom in the United States - children rode
tricycles and kicked soccer balls while their parents tried to sort
out their onward travel, asking volunteers for help as they booked
tickets to their loved ones.
Nehemie could not bring herself to talk to anyone. Watching couples
get off the bus together was particularly hard for her.
Her voice broke. "I feel awful when someone comes with their husband
and I don't have mine," she said.
Nehemie had no money and no way to communicate with him. Josue
carried all of the couple's cash and their shared cellphone. The Del
Rio center has no overnight capacity, so a pastor paid for her to
say in a motel for a few nights. She called her husband's phone
repeatedly from the center, but the calls did not go through.
While the separation of adult family members in immigration is not
new, advocates are calling on the Biden administration to fulfill
its promise of a more humane immigration system by allowing families
like Nehemie's to stay together, or reunifying those that have been
separated.
Guerline Jozef, executive director of the Haitian Bridge Alliance,
an organization focused on helping Black immigrants, said under
former President Donald Trump she saw cases where pregnant women
were released but their partners were detained and deported.
This has left behind "a slew of single women and fatherless children
whose fathers and partners cannot do anything to be reunited with
their families," she said.
By Sunday, Nehemie knew she had to leave the border. She had barely
eaten for days. Her pregnancy had made her prone to vomiting, and
she could not keep the respite center's sandwiches down. She planned
to fly the next morning to Josue's older brother in Florida who had
bought her an airline ticket.
Marjorie Macon, Josue's sister-in-law, had some news for her when
she landed: Josue had called from an Immigration and Customs
Enforcement (ICE) facility.
It wasn't clear whether he was being held there prior to being
deported.
ICE confirmed that Josue was in their custody in Mississippi but did
not respond to questions about the case.
(Reporting by Mimi Dwyer; Editing by Ross Colvin and Aurora Ellis)
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