Despite buoys and barbed wire, migrants continue to arrive in Texas

Their two children on their shoulders, Wilfredo Riera and Nataly Barrionuevo jump into the Rio Grande from the Mexican shore. Waist deep in water, they avoid the buoys placed by Texas to block their passage and head for the United States.

“They had spoken to us (of the buoys), but had told us that they did not mark all the territory, that there was a way to get there”, says Wilfredo Riera, a 26-year-old Venezuelan from Ecuador. with his wife Nataly Barrionuevo, 39, and their children, Yeiden, 2, and Nicolas, 7.

In July, the governor of Texas, the Republican Greg Abbott, had this floating barrier installed on the river, the natural border between the United States and Mexico, to flow back migrants.

The buoys are designed to spin if grabbed and have serrated metal discs. At the beginning of August, a lifeless body was found there.

Wilfredo Riera, Nataly Barrionuevo, and their children left Ecuador a month and a half ago in search of work and a better life. They crossed the Darien jungle, from Colombia to Panama.

With a dozen other migrants, the family was able to cross the river, far from the buoys.

It takes them about ten minutes to cross from one bank to the other, from Piedras Negras, in Mexico, to Eagle Pass, in the United States.

They then come up against an interminable barrier of barbed wire before finally finding a breach and rushing through it.

It is 2:00 p.m., the temperature felt exceeds 40ºC. A warm wind is blowing, and the only sound is that of lizards hiding in the vegetation.

In front of them, another fence, about three meters high with, again, barbed wire. They cover them with their clothes to pass to the other side.

Nataly Barrionuevo climbs it, and waits for her husband to catch up with her with their children. Some come out with a hole in their pants, but they’re in the United States.

A Border Police van arrives, kicking up dust. In Spanish, an agent asks them for their identity papers.

They search the men and place everyone in a vehicle, heading for a detention center.

If they are allowed to apply for asylum, they will be able to stay temporarily in the United States, until a judge rules. Otherwise, they will be expelled.

“We want to work, to give them a future,” says Nataly Barrionuevo, pointing to her children, before her voice breaks.

Jumping the fence, the migrants arrive at a private property, the Heavenly Farms of the Urbina, pecan nut farmers.

Their land has direct access to the river, where the buoys float, and is now fully fenced and guarded by the military.

They don’t like it, but they have no choice but to accept, laments Magali Urbina, 52.

“My husband and I don’t believe in open borders. But neither do we believe in treating people inhumanely,” she explains.

“We are human beings first and foremost,” she points out, “you’re not saying wait a minute, you shouldn’t be here, it’s not our first human instinct.”

The buoys are the subject of a showdown between Texas and the United States federal government.

The Justice Department considers them a humanitarian and diplomatic issue because they violate border treaties with Mexico, and has sued Texas to remove them.

The case is now being considered in federal court.

The Texas authorities already had to move the buoys last week because they were encroaching on the Mexican side.

“We are fully authorized by the Constitution of the United States to do exactly what we do”, namely “secure the border”, defended Governor Greg Abbott.

The Republican accuses Joe Biden’s administration of being responsible for an immigration crisis and the governors of other conservative states have sent troops to support him.

“The governor of Texas has set up a cute little scene to make it look like a war zone,” said Jessie Fuentes, 62, owner of a kayak tour business.

He had to close up shop, “because nobody wants to go on the river in these conditions”.

Robie Flores, 36, was born and raised in Eagle Pass. She remembers her childhood on the banks of the Rio Grande. People were picnicking, wading in the water, boating. It was even common to greet the neighbors of Piedras Negras.

But, since then, Texas has erected a barrier of containers that obscures the view, explains this videographer, co-founder of the border coalition of Eagle Pass. Then came the barbed wire and, finally, the buoys.

“It’s really sad to see. Migrants rounded up like cattle, treated like less than nothing,” she denounces. “That’s not how our community works. We’re a border community.”