🌊 How one migrant got a free trip to NYC

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We started Roca four years ago because we believed the nation’s blood pressure needed to be lowered. After yesterday’s shooting and apparent assassination attempt on Donald Trump, this is even truer now than it was then. Endless fear-mongering, political vitriol, and partisanship risk destroying the United States. We at Roca are trying to do our small part to prevent that. Thank you for supporting our mission.

Part 4: Life in a Shelter

This is the final installment in our series on Xavier, a migrant who traveled from Colombia to New York City. Did you miss parts 1 and 2? They’re available here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

Once the smugglers brought Xavier, his girlfriend Kerlin, and her son to the US-Mexico border, the question was what would happen next: Would the smugglers leave them in the desert? Would they kidnap them and take them elsewhere in Mexico? Would American border officials separate them? Deport them?

The trio need not have worried, because everything went as smoothly as it possibly could have:

They crossed the river, turned themselves into US border patrol, and were briefly detained. Xavier and the two others were separated, but all were released by the afternoon. Migrant organizations put them on buses to San Antonio, where they reunited at a shelter that night.

In San Antonio, they were asked their destination: “New York City,” they said. Within days, their flight – paid for by a migrant support organization – touched down in the city. A shuttle whisked them off to a shelter in the Bronx. Days later, they were relocated to a hotel in a nice neighborhood of Brooklyn.

It was on a Saturday night several months later that I received Xavier’s message: “Max good evening.”

“A question: Were you in the subway just now Max?”

“You were wearing a blue shirt.”

Indeed I was, and soon after, Xavier and I met for pizza. He told me many of the details that have been relayed here. But he also told me about his struggles in America.

Xavier and Kerlin were now in the US indefinitely, however, they were not allowed to work. Migrants try to work under the table, he said, but businesses didn’t want to employ them. That left them stuck in the US without any money. The National Guard had taken over their hotel and provided three free meals daily.

His best bet, he had heard, was working in food delivery, although apps like Uber Eats require the driver to have an American bank account or work authorization

For now, he waited, frustrated.

A few weeks later, Xavier told me that he had found a way to join the army of New York City delivery drivers: He could pay a Venezuelan-American to rent his Uber Eats account. Every few weeks, that person would give Xavier his earnings, less a cut. He was excited – work at last.

Except the first time that money came due, the person disappeared.

Scammed but determined, Xavier tried the same thing with someone else. Once again, though, payday came and the person was nowhere to be found.

His purgatory continued.

The next time I saw Xavier was a Sunday night in December. It was frigid, dark, and raining – the worst kind of night New York has to offer. I met Xavier, Kerlin, and their boy, Grieker, at a Mexican restaurant, where they could easily order in Spanish.

A bit had changed since we last spoke: Grieker had enrolled in school and a change in federal policy had allowed migrants like Xavier and Kerlin to get temporary work authorizations. Kerlin had started working at a restaurant while Xavier had been able to set up his own Uber Eats delivery account and buy a moped. They were still living in the Brooklyn hotel, receiving three free meals a day.

On the one hand, the couple now had their feet on the ground.

Greiker – who had been constantly sick before – was now in good health, something they attributed to his getting basic vaccinations. As a Venezuelan migrant born in Colombia, he hadn’t been able to receive his childhood vaccine regimen until he reached the US.

On the other, their outlook was grim: They had upcoming court cases but couldn’t afford lawyers, which left them at risk of being deported. They were also alone, isolated, and freezing: They told me they had no one else in the US to talk to.

When I asked if they liked New York, Kerlin vehemently shook her head. But she added, “I want to fulfill my duty. I want to do what I have in mind.”

Xavier nodded: “We will also get used to it. Hey, we're already here. What can we do? It's good, it's what we wanted…When we spoke to you in Colombia, we wanted to be here.”

He continued: “And now that we're here, we have to support it. Move forward. What can you do? It’s a new life. A new world.”

Before ending our conversation, Xavier said, “I think the coming year will be a little better than this one. Because this one, we didn't really know how it was in the United States. Now we are getting used to this country.”

“All people have to get used to this country,” he said. “There are some who say they will leave in four years but after ten, 12 years, they still live here”

A month later, Xavier sent me another message.

“Max I almost died.”

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