A Venezuelan family’s desperate journey

On foot, by bus, on the backs of juddering trucks, like tens of thousands of others they slogged for days along the Pan-American highway through Colombia and Ecuador.  Grubby and sleepless, their goal was to reach Peru, a sanctuary of sorts for a desperate Venezuelan family.

Exhausted and swept by the endless wash of traffic noise on the highway’s shoulder, the Mendoza Landinez family had the additional pressure of a deadline: to enter Peru before new rules required them to produce a passport. It pushed Joel Mendoza, his companion Edicth Landinez and her two children Nacari and Sebastian, into a desperate race against the clock. Also in tow are Edicth’s niece Eliana with her baby, Tiago.

Thursday August 23 In Pasto, southern Colombia, near the Ecuadoran border, they hitch a ride on a truck. On board are 11 Venezuelans, including seven on the open flatbed behind, three of them children.  The cold is numbing. Huddled against the wind, Joel throws an arm around Edicth. They left Guanare in western Venezuela together on August 15. A tough decision but their combined wages as a truck driver and domestic worker could buy “nothing” -- just a kilo of soap.

Crossing mountainous Colombia, already home to more than a million Venezuelan migrants, they found cold but some comfort from strangers who gave them food. “Leaving one’s country takes its toll,” said Joel, 51.  “Abandoning what took so much effort is hard,” says Edicth. At 34, her tired eyes and weathered skin make her look older. They have only the clothes they are wearing, with some blankets in a suitcase. The trucker who drove them for over 40 hours from the Venezuelan border buys them breakfast. And a Venezuelan woman, who made the same trip herself in July and works in a restaurant, offers them lunch.

The day began at 6:00 am. Eight hours later, they board another truck, which leaves them a few kilometers outside Ipiales, near the Ecuadoran border. They have crossed Colombia. Nervous, they hike for 90 minutes to the border. Edicth is the only one with a passport, which Ecuador now requires instead of ID cards in a bid to control a seemingly endless wave of migrants.

Other Venezuelans coming in the opposite direction tell them they should turn around. “I have faith that they will let us in,” insists Edicth. Joel nervously pulls on a cigarette. The sun goes down. The temperature drops. Sixteen year old Nacari and Sebastian, six, rest on their bags. They make no complaint. Eliana 19, cradles fivemonth-old Tiago.

Fraught, she barely utters a word. At 6:40 pm rumors are circulating that Ecuador is letting migrants cross without passports and will also lay on a bus to take them to Peru. Joel can scarcely believe it. “God be praised!” he says. The family prays together, hug each other. Edicth beams a wide smile.  It will not last.