Nicaraguan Asylum Seekers in US Live in Fear of Deportation
Three asylum seekers whose cases are still unresolved speak about their fear of being forcibly returned to a Nicaragua, where they don’t feel safe.
By Ivan Olivares (Confidencial)
HAVANA TIMES – US President Donald Trump’s threats of mass deportation have thrust many Nicaraguans into a constant state of alarm. Below are the stories of three Nicaraguans who spoke to Confidencial about how they’re coping with the uncertainty about whether or not they can continue living in the place they chose as refuge from the Ortega regime’s repression.
The increase in deportations that have taken place in many parts of the US, at the hands of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE as it’s commonly known, have affected the nerves of thousands of people.
Trump is now asking the US Congress for more federal funding to carry out, “the greatest deportation operation in the history of the United States.” Obviously, this hasn’t helped to calm the anxiety of those affected. A reported 37,660 undocumented immigrants have been deported by the beginning of March.
In San Francisco, California, Jairo Bonilla, a young university student who had to flee Nicaragua to escape the government repression, described his feelings: “the situation I’m in makes me feel very frustrated. Beyond just fear, I feel cornered, because I know I mustn’t touch down on Nicaraguan soil for any reason.”
“I feel insecure,” and “we’re very worried and nervous,” were the responses another two Nicaraguans shared, from Iowa and Los Angeles respectively. They preferred to use the assumed names of “Josue
and “Ivan,” to avoid risking reprisals against their family members who are still in Nicaragua.
Jairo: “I can’t step onto Nicaraguan soil”
During the time he spent under siege at the Nicaraguan Polytechnical University in 2018, together with other protesting students who were occupying the center, Jairo Bonilla learned what it was like to hear the whistling of bullets aimed at their flesh. The violent attack was part of the repression the Ortega regime unleashed against the rebelling students.
Despite the risks, in 2021 he embarked on a journey that took him through the Central America’s northern triangle and on through Mexico, to the US southern border. He was allowed to cross, and “as soon as I came in,” he asked for “affirmative asylum.” The term “affirmative asylum” means requesting authorization to enter the United States and apply formally for asylum after reaching the US city they’re heading for.
Jairo tells us that even though he didn’t waste any time, his status remains uncertain. When he went to his hearing before an immigration judge, his lawyer had failed to send the evidence to the prosecution. Hence, the judge had to reject his asylum claim. “I gave [the lawyer] all the proof I had, photos and videos, but he simply held on to them,” Jairo states.
Even though he himself attended the hearing with copies of all these documents, it wasn’t possible to present them to the prosecutor, because she, like the lawyer who represented him, was participating virtually. “The prosecution – whose mission it is to resoundingly deny each asylum request – began to ask where the evidence I mentioned was; how could she be sure that I was a student and not a criminal, since none of this was in the file,” he continues.
“The judge ruled to deny my request for lack of evidence and merit, so I filed a lawsuit against the lawyer. I sued him because I have the e-mails where I sent the evidence,” he explains now.
At the same time, he took advantage of the time the law gives him to appeal – during which period the order of removal is suspended until the root of the situation is resolved. Given everything else, that benefit doesn’t let him feel at ease, since: “Trump said that those who have already seen a judge don’t have the right to a second chance and should be automatically deported.”
He feels that’s unfair to people who, like himself, have a solid case. “We’ve done things the right way in this country, and we’re here helping the economy, even more than most US citizens who don’t work over 8 hours while we work a minimum of 12 – 16 hours to be able to subsist.”
He admits that when he goes out, “it’s with fear. But I can’t stop working. I’ve thought about emigrating to Canada or Spain, a country where I understand we can go without a visa, but there are a lot of other factors. The first is facing the challenge of beginning again from nothing in another country. Also, finding out what the immigration situation is in that country, because I can’t just wait for them to grab me and send me back to Nicaragua. I can’t put a foot onto Nicaraguan soil,” he affirms.
In October they began “visiting” Josue’s house
Josue worked in a government office but managed to resign “when I saw what happened in 2018. But when I had been gone from that job for about a year, they came looking for me again [to return to work] and I told them no.” After that, his logical next step was to leave Nicaragua to protect himself and his family, knowing how the regime behaves towards those they consider traitors.
He left Nicaragua in December 2022, on a bus to Guatemala. In that country, “they took us to sleep in a place that I know was run by a cartel, because there were drugs there, arms, all kinds of things. They woke us up at five in the morning to continue moving on towards Mexico.” While in that country, he decided to change coyotes, “because ours was having problems moving the group that was ahead of us. They couldn’t get them out, because they weren’t paying the narcos enough to let them keep going,” he recalls.
Together with a new group of travelers he joined, he managed to reach a border crossing called Piedras Negras where he turned himself in to US immigration authorities. They held him there “for two days, in the place they call la hielera, and when I got out I traveled to Iowa, with the help of a niece who received me there.”
Like Jairo, Josue began to file his paperwork as soon as he could. “When I came here, they gave me a year of parole while I got settled and worked on my asylum application, but I had to wait a year to be able to request all the documents.” When the stipulated time ended, he got his driver’s license, a work permit and a social security card.
Although his deportation order was suspended, the threatening declarations of the current White House occupant means that he doesn’t feel safe, “due to the risk that they could send me to Nicaragua. My family told me that in October (2024) they [agents of the Ortega regime] began coming around to my house to ask about me, and to threaten them, because they saw that I managed to escape from the country.”
For the moment, he’s doing the only rational thing he can do, which is to go forward with the process of legalizing his immigration status. However, just in case, he’s following the advice of his lawyer and always carries with him a copy of the documents showing all of the legal actions he’s making. He carries these so he can show them to the officials, if they stop him. “I understand well that the order is to go after everyone the same. The good thing is that I’m not in a big city, but I live in a town, and here you don’t see a lot of those raids,” he admits.
His hope is that neither he nor his wife – a Nicaraguan woman who followed him to the United States and arrived a year after him – will be deported, and that they will have enough time to consolidate their status, so that ICE will stop appearing in their nightmares.
Ivan: “I don’t know if being paroled is enough”
Ivan volunteered with a civic organization that the Nicaraguan government began to go after. “A lot of us decided to leave the country, leaving our families behind. That’s how I came to be here, in the United States,” via a journey that was full of vicissitudes.
“While I was in Nicaragua, I kept a low profile. I didn’t spend a lot of time at home but would stay with one or another relative. The neighbors told me that the Police were going around asking about me – and not only policemen, but also guys on motorcycles, who people figured were paramilitaries for their way of operating,” he details.
His neighbors weren’t the only ones to pass on information. “A person I knew well and trusted had a position with influence in the government. They told me I was on the government’s radar due to my civic activities, and that the best thing for me to do would be to leave the country right away. Luckily, the parole program was declared around then, and I was able to fly directly to the United States where I entered legally in mid-2023.”
Like Jairo and Josue, when Ivan reached the US “I immediately looked into the paperwork processes and turned in my asylum application punctually. I know I can’t go back to my country, because if I return, I don’t know what could happen to me. I’m afraid of what could happen to me in Nicaragua, because it’s public knowledge what happens there to those the government considers “dissidents,” he states.
Thanks to the fact that he completed all the legal requirements “in the correct time and manner,” he’s received all of his documents, including a work permit. In his view, this means “I’m legal in this country, but all of us who are involved in this process are uneasy, because we don’t know what the Trump government will do. No one knows,” he repeated.
Although he doesn’t even know if they’d allow him to reenter Nicaragua if he’s deported, he also fears that letting him in may not be such good news either, because in that case, “it’s highly probable I’d be imprisoned for the activities our civic group promoted. There are people who weren’t even involved in the 2018 April Rebellion, and they won’t let them enter Nicaragua. I wasn’t in the opposition, although I found myself involved in certain situations. I have friends within the regime who warn me that anyone who comes back will go to jail.”
First published in Spanish by Confidencial and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.