Guatemala City. José Basilio travels in a bus packed to the brim with people from all over Central America, all headed to the same place: the United States. But while they all share the same destination, their reasons for packing up and leaving are very different: one man has simply had enough of being poor and wants to take a chance on a new life. Another is trying to return to the place he once called home before being deported. A woman and her daughter’s voices tremble when they admit that they are fleeing from a gang. As for José Basilio, he is migrating to “scrape together some money and pay off a debt”. He will miss his wife and children a lot, he says, but if everything goes well, his wife will leave their children with a relative and join him in the US.
This rickety bus and its passengers tell the story of what migration to the US has become over the last decade. In search of opportunity, safety or simply stability, hundreds of thousands of Guatemalans have headed north, making Guatemala the number one country of origin for migrants to the United States. According to US authorities, approximately 280,000 Guatemalans were apprehended by border police in 2019, the latest year on record.
Migration doesn’t just affect those who leave but also those who stay behind. Like José and his wife, half of all Central American migrants leave behind a son or daughter (according to a recent report by the Inter-American Development Bank). When parents leave, children are often left in the care of relatives, usually grandmothers or older sisters, who often don’t have the time, energy or ability needed to raise them. Many children are left to fend for themselves alone in the streets.
In the La Verbena neighbourhood at the other end of the city, Berenice (not her real name) wearily climbs the steep stairs to her humble home consisting of bare concrete walls and a tin roof. She lives with her grandson Neymar (also not his real name), 16, who was left in her care more than four years ago when his mother decided to emigrate. While it’s true that his mother sends them some money from the US, “money is no replacement for a mother,” says Berenice. There is no resentment in her voice, just a mixture of sorrow and concern. Neymar recently began hanging out with gang members in his neighbourhood. Berenice, exhausted, feels unable to control her teenage grandson. Though she tries to remain discreet, she confesses that she was informed by Neymar’s school that he had been seen selling marijuana. While not a serious crime, she is anxious that it could be a first step towards worse crimes like extortion or murder. “It’s the hidden cost of migration. Children can’t grow up without their families. They leave to make money but we end up paying the price,” she says.
Neymar’s story is by no means exceptional. Like him, many children of migrants end up finding a surrogate family in a gang. It may seem like a paradox, but both Mara Salvatrucha (MS 13) and Barrio 18, known for their brutality and a bloody history of massacres, rapes and kidnappings, offer something essential to young people who feel abandoned: the security of belonging to a group.
Unlike other organised crime groups such Mexico’s narco gangs or the mafia in Italy, Central American gangs are imbued with all the trappings of identity. Initiation rites, tattoos, coded language, etc., serve to create a sense of collective belonging among their members. According to the InSight Crime foundation, these gangs function more as a social than a criminal organisation: they are less concerned with financial gain and more concerned with creating a protective space for mutual support. Gang members are willing to kill to protect ‘the neighbourhood’ or any of their ‘brothers’ in the gang.
For years, these gangs have made the region one of the most dangerous in the world. While no official record exists, many of the 3,472 homicides recorded in 2020 can be attributed to the gangs. The result is a rate of 21 homicides per 100,000 inhabitants. To put these numbers into the now all-too-familiar perspective of our current global health crisis, if these murders were a disease, they would be double the numbers required to qualify as an epidemic according to the World Health Organization’s definition.
There are between 15,000 and 20,000 gang members in Guatemala alone. Despite numerous public security operations deployed by successive governments, gang membership has continued to grow. According to several human rights organisations, these measures have not been accompanied by any social integration policy and have thus failed to achieve the desired results. Meanwhile, the unchecked violence fuels a vicious cycle, causing many more Central Americans to emigrate.