People from dozens of countries are crossing the river in groups small and large. In all, they number in the tens of thousands. Some journeys are short and relatively comfortable — Claudia and Kemy took a flight from the Venezuelan capital of Caracas to Canun, Mexico, then bused to the border — and some are monthslong, harrowing and peppered with brutal violence.
Some are fatal.
None of the journeys end there, on the American shore of the Rio Grande, which in Mexico is known as the Rio Bravo, or Wild River. Some people will be deported quickly. Some will be allowed to remain in the United States while they go through a legal process to determine whether they will be granted asylum.
That process can take two to four years.
In between, the travelers stay with sponsors, family or friends all over the United States who often have helped fund the journeys. No one is allowed to remain in the country and seek asylum without first having a sponsor, so these migrants cross the Rio Grande with a plan and arranged transportation.
They face one more hurdle. A gap in the system. Once they are released by the Border Patrol, they often have no food, nowhere to stay, no way to shower, no extra clothes and little to no money while they wait for a bus or train or plane.
That’s the story Jeff and I went to Texas to tell this week, about the people and the groups that are stepping into that void to help take people off the streets, feed and clothe them and give them a cot for sleep.
The churches and charities don’t provide any money to the asylum-seekers. Instead, they try to provide room in a makeshift inn.
We told part of the story earlier this week. We will publish another later this week.
