澳门六合开奖结果

His farewell hug is more than I expect. We only met two hours ago, but he hugs me like a best friend. A best friend he may never see again.

His embrace is filled with emotion 鈥� sadness, desperation, fear. All of it raw. I don鈥檛 know if he has any hope left.

When he pulls away, his face wrinkles. His brow furrows. Tears soak his cheeks.聽 听听聽

鈥淗ave faith,鈥� I tell him, as I cry too. 鈥淒on鈥檛 give up. Keep fighting.鈥澨�听

They鈥檙e the only words I have.

鈥�Gracias,鈥� he whispers. 听听

I watch as he and his partner are escorted away by U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officials. One of them shouts, 鈥淜eep moving!鈥�

I don鈥檛 know what happened next. The man and his partner disappear with CBP officials down a long, brightly lit hallway, just outside of the checkpoint. The last thing I see is the scar on the man鈥檚 head as he walks away, a reminder of his life in Cuba, where he was brutally beaten and persecuted for being gay. 听听听听聽

This marks the end of my first day at the U.S.-Mexico border. The men have just presented themselves at an official U.S. port of entry, after waiting four grueling months in Ciudad Ju谩rez, Mexico, one of the 50 most dangerous cities in the world. And now they are gone.聽 聽

I am here with Mary Bauer, deputy legal director for the 澳门六合开奖结果, along with Linda Rivas, executive director at . Linda is guiding us on this journey along the border, where Ju谩rez meets El Paso, Texas.

Nowhere to go

Earlier that morning, when word spread that people were helping to advise asylum- seekers, fathers came to the migrant center toting toddlers on their hips. Mothers nursed infants, not knowing where to go, or to whom they should speak. Children were so tired, they slept on the dingy, tiled floor.听听听听听听听听

Many asylum-seekers were there to add their names to the waitlist. They are given a number and must wait until it is called to present themselves at a port of entry. 聽This is the result of the Trump鈥檚 administration鈥檚 use of 鈥渕etering鈥� to restrict access to the asylum process at the southern border. It is based on false assertions that CBP lacks the capacity to process asylum seekers at ports of entry.聽

A sign nearby indicates that no one鈥檚 number has been called in three days.听听听听听听听听听听听听

At the migrant center, volunteers do intakes, and pro bono attorneys listen to inconsolable migrants, desperate for representation. One man talks of a friend who was shot while waiting in his truck in Ju谩rez. A woman traveling with her young son tells us that the police in her home country can鈥檛 be trusted.

鈥淚f you talk, you die,鈥� she says in Spanish. 鈥淚f you talk, they鈥檒l kill you.鈥�

My heart aches when I hear the migrants say that no one cares about them.

In the afternoon, a woman enters the room and sits. Her legs are shaking. Her once painted fingernails are chipped. While her son eats cookies, the mother explains that she was threatened by los Zetas 鈥� Mexico鈥檚 most dangerous drug cartel 鈥� once she got into Mexico.

Her voice cracks. She fears for the safety of her son in Ju谩rez. The attorney explains that she can鈥檛 guarantee representation. The woman gives a slight, sad nod, then leaves the room.聽

The sun promises to rise again the next day, but unfortunately, the woman has nowhere to go.聽

鈥楾hey鈥檒l kill me鈥�

I never got the name of the man who hugged me. But I know that he was kind, smart and witty. I know that he and his partner traversed the entirety of Central America by foot, taxi and bus to get to Ju谩rez so that they could seek asylum in the U.S. I also know that he is one of tens of thousands of people caught in the crossfire of the administration鈥檚 war against asylum-seekers.

鈥淚t鈥檚 been my dream to go to the United States,鈥� he said with a smile when I first met him at the migrant center in Ju谩rez. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 go back to my country. They鈥檒l kill me. This is my dream.鈥� 听听听听

When the time comes for us to leave the center and head to the port of entry, he begins to sob. His shoulders tremble. His hand shields his face, so I can鈥檛 see him weep. He鈥檚 terrified the long journey to the border won鈥檛 be worth it. That his dream won鈥檛 come true. He鈥檚 terrified today won鈥檛 go as planned. Which it won鈥檛. 听听听听

As we cross the bridge from Ju谩rez to the port of entry, CBP tells us that El Paso can no longer accommodate asylum-seekers. There鈥檚 not enough room, they claim. It鈥檚 clear that CBP is limiting the number of migrants who can present themselves at the port of entry, a process called 鈥渕etering.鈥�

The man鈥檚 face falls when he hears this. He wraps an arm around his partner. They are both sharply dressed, wearing matching shirts. 听听聽

The claim is a lie. Earlier that day, news broke that El Paso had room to house thousands more asylum-seekers. I鈥檝e been told by local attorneys that CBP is focusing its hostility on Central American and Cuban migrants. Why? I don鈥檛 know.

Irritated, I wait. Even though the men are allowed to present themselves, CBP officials do not relent. They refuse to let anyone into the U.S., including a group of transgender women seeking refuge. 听听听听听听听听聽

Along with the men, Mary, Linda and I are also presenting a lesbian couple and their young daughter. Again, CBP refuses. The agents threaten to call the National Guard, which would force the migrants to again wait in Ju谩rez. 听听

But just like the men, the women cannot wait any longer. 聽

Life or death听听

The little girl is almost 3. She wears pigtails and speaks with a slight lisp, blissfully unaware that she will soon be separated from one of her mothers, who will almost certainly be detained. Standing in 100-degree heat with little shade, the little girl whimpers and clings to both women.聽 聽 聽

For this family, today could be worse than the day before.

Last night, a vicious windstorm erupted in Ju谩rez, sending plumes of dust and trash through the city鈥檚 already grimy streets. The women cradled their little girl while seeking shelter on a bridge, hoping to protect her.

But as they tried to sleep, three men approached and tried to rape them. The men tried to steal the daughter from her mothers鈥� arms. The family barely escaped both tragedies. It was pure luck, because in Ju谩rez, many asylum-seekers have been kidnapped. Many have been raped. 听听

Like the Cuban men, the women need out of Ju谩rez. It鈥檚 a matter of life or death. 听听听听

The worst day

Once we鈥檝e made it to the port of entry, the dry, dusty air fills my nostrils. So do exhaust fumes. At least 35 people crowd together on the bridge, baking under the hot sun. Our bodies drip with sweat. Our shirts are soaked. A man standing on the highway sells water to the group. 鈥溌�Agua, agua!鈥� he yells, walking by the formidable line of traffic inching its way through the port of entry. A tall Wells Fargo bank stares at us from downtown El Paso, as if to taunt the migrants. The U.S. is so close, but virtually impossible to reach. 听听听听听听听听听听聽

Calls are placed to a congressman鈥檚 office, demanding that CBP allow our group and the transgender women to enter. After an hour, CBP finally lets us pass. I notice a message, la frontera es donde debe vivir, written in graffiti under the bridge. 鈥淭he border is where you should live,鈥� it says. I wonder who tagged the bridge with that message, because for the migrants stuck in Ju谩rez, there鈥檚 no other choice.

Past the checkpoint, the migrants depart with the CBP officials.

It鈥檚 difficult. We assume all will be detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) at an immigrant prison for a long time. They may be deported back to the countries they fear. We know the little girl will be separated from the woman who isn鈥檛 her biological mother, even though she calls her 鈥渕谩尘补.鈥� This, Mary tells me, could be the worst day of the little girl鈥檚 life.

Still waiting

The next day, I wake up to news that a detained man at an El Paso detention center has been protesting his prolonged detention by hunger-striking. When the attorney who represents him returns from federal court, she says the judge ruled in favor of the man being force-fed, viewed by many as a form of torture. The ruling sickens me. I am surrounded by one tragedy after another.

Later in Ju谩rez, Mary, Linda and I visit a shelter where migrants wait until their number is called.

The children鈥檚 faces light up when they see we鈥檝e brought snacks. For them, it鈥檚 like Christmas.

鈥�隆Hola, hola!鈥� they call with a smile, a cacophony of gleeful cries. 鈥�隆Gracias, gracias!鈥�

Each child greets us, hugs us and kisses us on the cheek. The mothers do the same. 听听听听

One boy hugs a teddy bear to his chest. A couple of children play on a discarded razor scooter on a concrete patio. Others watch a movie, while their mothers gather in the kitchen to tell the stories of what led them to Ju谩rez.聽 聽

This is a 鈥渘ice鈥� shelter. While most migrants waiting in Mexico must wait on the street, this group is lucky to have a roof over their head. 聽

Still, the shelter is bare. There鈥檚 little furniture.

One mother shares the story of how her father was murdered. His killers threatened to murder her next, so she was forced to flee her home country. She says she is depending on God to get her through this trying time, words that remind me of a mountain in Ju谩rez bearing this message: La biblia es la verdad. L茅ela.

鈥淭he Bible is the truth. Read it.鈥澛�

The irony of the mountain鈥檚 message is not lost on me. 听听

A verse from Proverbs says to 鈥渄efend the rights of the poor and needy.鈥� A verse from Matthew says, 鈥淚 was hungry, and you gave me food. I was thirsty, and you gave me drink. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.鈥�

As we head back to El Paso, I glance through the car window and bid farewell to Ju谩rez, wondering when our country will welcome the poor, needy, hungry and thirsty stranger. 听听听听

Much like the migrants of Ju谩rez, we don鈥檛 know. So we are forced to wait.