As US President-elect Donald Trump prepares to take office in January with the promise of mass deportations, Central American countries are bracing for a possible influx of vulnerable migrants.
As dozens of deported migrants crowd into the sweltering facilities of H0nduras' San Pedro Sula airport, Norma sits under the fluorescent lights with a disposable cup of coffee and a small plate of eggs, everything that awaited her there.
The 69-year-old Honduran woman had never imagined leaving her Central American country. But then came the anonymous death threats to her and her children and the armed men who showed up at her door threatening to kill her, just as they had killed one of her relatives days before.
Norma, who requested anonymity out of concern for her safety, spent her life savings, $10,000, on a one-way trip north in late October with her daughter and granddaughter.
But after their requests for asylum in the United States were rejected, they were put on a deportation flight. Now, she is back in Honduras within the reach of the same gang, trapped in a cycle of violence and economic precariousness that torments deportees like her.
“They can look for us anywhere in Honduras,” he said at the migrant processing facility. “We only have the protection of God, because we do not expect anything from the government.”
Now, as US President-elect Donald Trump prepares to take office in January with the promise of mass deportationsHonduras and other Central American countries, where people have fled for generations, are bracing for a possible influx of vulnerable migrants, a situation for which they are ill-prepared.
“There is no capacity”
Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador, which have the largest number of people living illegally in the United States after Mexico, could be the first and most affected by mass deportations, said Jason Houser, former chief of staff at the Immigration and Enforcement Service. United States Customs (ICE) in the Biden administration.
With countries like Venezuela refusing to accept deportation flights from the United States, Houser suggests the Trump administration could prioritize deporting the “most vulnerable” migrants from those countries who have removal orders but no criminal records, in a effort to rapidly increase deportation numbers.
“Hondurans, Guatemalans, Salvadorans must be very, very nervous because (Trump officials) are going to push the limits of the law,” Houser said.
Migrants and networks that help deportees in those countries in the Northern Triangle of Central America fear that their return could plunge them into even deeper economic and humanitarian crises, fueling future migration.
“There is no capacity” to receive so many people, said Antonio García, deputy minister of Foreign Affairs of Honduras. “There is very little that exists for returnees.” Those who return, he said, “are the last in line.”
Back to the United States
Since 2015, Honduras has received around half a million deportees. They step off planes and buses to be greeted with coffee, small plates of food, and bags of toothpaste and deodorant. While some breathe a sigh of relief, freed from the harsh conditions in US detention facilities, others cry, panicked.
“What do we do now, we don't know what lies ahead,” said a woman in a group of deportees waiting to be called by a man pointing at a keyboard.
About 560,000 Hondurans, about 5% of the country's population, live in the United States without legal status, according to U.S. government figures. Of these, migration experts estimate that about 150,000 can be located and expelled quickly.
While García said the government offers services to help returnees, most are released with little help in a country dominated by gangs. They have few job options to pay off crushing debts. Others, like Norma, have nowhere to go, unable to return home because of the gang members hanging around their home.
Norma said she's not sure why they were targeted, but believes it was because the family member who was killed had problems with a gang. Despite the repression, García estimates that up to 40% of Honduran deportees return to the United States.
A looming humanitarian crisis
Larissa Martínez, 31, is among those who have struggled to reintegrate into Honduran society after being deported from the United States in 2021 with her three children. Driven by economic desperation and the absence of her husband, who had migrated and left her for another woman, the single mother sought a better life in the United States.
Since returning to Honduras, Martínez has spent the last three years looking for work, not only to support his children, but also to pay the $5,000 he owes relatives for the trip north.
Their efforts have been fruitless. He built a shaky wooden house hidden in the hillsides of San Pedro Sula, where he sells meat and cheese to survive, but sales have been poor and tropical rains have eroded the flimsy walls where they sleep.
So you've started repeating a mantra in your head: “If I don't find a job in December, I'll leave in January.”
César Muñoz, leader of the Mennonite Social Action Commission, said Honduran authorities have abandoned deportees like Martínez, leaving organizations like his to intervene. But with three deportation flights arriving weekly, aid networks are already overwhelmed.
A significant increase could leave aid networks, migrants and their families reeling. Meanwhile, countries like Honduras, which rely heavily on remittances from the United States, could face serious economic consequences as this essential lifeline is cut off.
“We are on the verge of a new humanitarian emergency,” said Muñoz.
Trump's return has been met with a variety of reactions from Latin American nations connected to the United States through migration and trade.
Guatemala, a country with more than 750,000 citizens living illegally in the United States, announced in November that it was working on a strategy to address possible mass deportations. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum said Mexico is already bolstering legal services at its consulates in the United States and would ask Trump to deport non-Mexicans directly to their countries of origin.
Honduran Deputy Foreign Minister García expressed skepticism about Trump's threat, citing the economic benefits migrants provide to the US economy and the logistical challenges of mass deportations. Aid leaders like Muñoz say Honduras is not adequately preparing for a possible increase in deportations.
Even with a crackdown by Trump, it would be “impossible” to stop people from migrating, García said. Driven by poverty, violence and hope for a better life, groups of deportees board buses on their way back to the United States.
As deportations by U.S. and Mexican authorities increase, smugglers offer migrants packages in which they get three attempts to reach the north. If migrants are caught on their journey and sent back home, they still have two opportunities to reach the United States.
Recently returned to Honduras, Kimberly Orellana, 26, said she spent three months detained in a facility in Texas before being sent back to San Pedro Sula, where she waited at a bus station for her mother to pick her up.
However, she was already planning to return, saying she has no choice: Her 4-year-old daughter, Marcelle, was waiting, cared for by a friend in North Carolina.
The two were separated by traffickers while crossing the Rio Grande, hoping to increase their chances of successfully crossing. Orellana promised her daughter that they would meet.
“Mommy, are you sure you're coming?” Marcelle asks over the phone.
“Now that I'm here, it's very difficult to know that I can keep that promise now,” Orellana said, clutching his Honduran passport. “I have to do it, try… my daughter is the only one I have.”