Far From Home
Photo courtesy of Dominik Scythe via UNSPLASH
Stranded for months in the United States, Venezuelans confront the pandemic, lives on hold and families back home desperate for reunions
Editor’s Note: This story was produced in collaboration with Florida International University’s South Florida Media Network.
By Valeria Venturini
On March 14, Françoise Viera, 51, traveled to Miami from Caracas, Venezuela. She hoped to spend time with her father, 80-year-old Orlando, who had Parkinson’s disease and had developed critical pneumonia.
What Viera didn’t know when she left her husband and two teenage boys in Caracas was that she wouldn’t see them for a very long time.
Just a few hours after Viera's flight departed Venezuela, Vice President Delcy Rodriguez cited the threat of COVID-19 as she announced the closure of the country’s airspace. Viera was suddenly stranded in the United States along with hundreds of other Venezuelans who desperately wanted -- and still want -- to return home. Her father died on March 16. Since then, she has remained in south Florida, mourning and couch-surfing without her loved ones. She communicates with them by text and WhatsApp messages.
"My children tell me every day that they miss me so much," Viera said. “I never imagined that I would not be there for my son's 18th birthday and his graduation ceremony. It breaks my heart, not to mention that he was injured and had surgery during that period as well. I have spent nights crying; these have been the hardest days of my life.”
Many Latin-American countries closed their borders to commercial flights due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Venezuela is no exception. A few, like Ecuador, have reopened; Colombia plans its first international flight on Sept. 19, from Cartagena to Miami. Most others have allowed their citizens and residents to return home in humanitarian flights.
None have been as strict as Venezuela. Its borders are closed to anyone trying to enter the country not only via air, but by car, boat, and on foot.
“Due to American sanctions against Venezuela, there are no flights from Miami or anywhere in the United States directly to Venezuela,” said Eduardo A. Gamarra, a professor in the department of politics and international relations at Florida International University. “U.S. sanctions also banned any other commercial airline that transports passengers via third countries, such as Panamá and the Dominican Republic.”
Françoise Viera -- Photo courtesy of Françoise Viera
From bad to worse
Venezuela’s coronavirus isolation has become a regional migration crisis. President Nicolás Maduro’s opponents, who formed a shadow government in early 2019, have estimated that the pandemic restrictions and the country’s unstable political situation have impeded half million Venezuelans attempting to return. Organized crime, human trafficking, criminal organizations, and guerrillas on the borders have taken advantage of those willing to pay to go home.
“The situation of Venezuela tends to worsen; the political situation in the country is uncertain,” said Jose Moreno, a Venezuelan lawyer living in Miami. “There are two governments in one country, both with limited resources and lack of capacity to provide service and solutions to Venezuelans in and out of the country.”
Moreno adds that for many of these unwitting exiles, that limbo complicates everything. “Venezuelans cannot get service at Venezuelan consular offices such as passport renewals, registration of wills, birth or death certificates, or other important documents,” he said. “This means Venezuelans are citizens of the world with documents that have expired and with limited legal recognition.”
A group claiming to represent more than 1,200 Venezuelans stranded in the United States due to COVID-19 restrictions created an Instagram account April 1 called @venezolanosvaradosenUSA2020 (Venezuelans stranded in the USA 2020). There they post government and flight updates and request help.
Many in the group said they are out of money and scrounge for places to stay. Many of their travel visas have expired. They started a petition in July that so far has garnered more than 8,200 signatures. It urges authorities in both countries to allow their return. The group members offer to pay for air tickets from a third country to Venezuela and abide by hygiene protocols to prevent the coronavirus's spread.
Vice President Mike Pence meets with Julio Borges, Carlos Vecchio, and the Venezuelan government-in-exile in 2019 -- Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
A costly quarantine
Los varados created a WhatsApp group chat that now has around 250 members. Andreina Friedlander de Gómez, 56, is one of them. She traveled from Caracas to Miami with her husband and daughters on Feb. 27 to attend a wedding. Friedlander de Gómez planned to return to Venezuela on March 26. She joined the group chat on May 12.
Friedlander and her husband, Guillermo Gómez, 58, entered the United States with visas that expired on Aug. 26. They saved money for months before the trip but didn't expect to remain for six months paying utilities, food, transportation, personal expenses -- and now, an immigration lawyer’s fees. They are running out of money and staying at Friedlander's in-laws' cramped vacation apartment in west Broward. They economize on everything, including food.
Friedlander says she feels imprisoned and prays daily for a miracle. She misses her home, friends and family, and cuddling with her dog, Maia. When her father-in-law, Guillermo (Billy), died of natural causes on June 15 in Venezuela, she and Guillermo mourned alone.
"During these months, I had to endure missing the funeral and burial of my father-in-law, and we couldn't do anything about it," said Friedlander. "I feel impotence. I feel anger and pain mixed with deep depression, despair, and great uncertainty."
Alberto, who works for a technology company and asked that his identity be obscured for safety reasons, arrived from Venezuela in early March to help kick off a sales campaign. Days later, as he often does when traveling to the United States, he stopped in Miami to spend some time with three sisters who live in nearby suburbs. He expected to stay just a couple of weeks to shop and socialize before returning home.
The night before his return flight, Alberto packed his suitcase. But then his wife called to tell him that Venezuela was closed. “Sweetie,” he recalls her saying. “I think you might be there for a while.”
Alberto has lived for months in a tiny guest room in the home of his sister, who has two teenagers. Everyone, he says, has lost privacy. He misses his wife, two sons, and elderly parents.
Alberto has tried, and failed, to buy tickets home traveling via Perú, the Dominican Republic, Trinidad, and even Spain.
Alberto speaks with his wife several times every day. Still, he misses her deeply. His salary, which supports an entire extended family, was cut 25% during the pandemic. Electricity, internet, and running water often cut out in his family’s home in Venezuela, he says. It is hard to find gasoline there, and overdue bills are piling up.
Venezuela recieves China health aid — Photo by Xinhua News Agency
Hope becomes fear
Recently, it seemed the door might be opening for stranded Venezuelans, but the government cracked down. First, a few hundred lucky people who spent months stranded in México and the Dominican Republic were allowed to travel home on the Venezuelan national airline, Conviasa. Then it was announced that a flight from Toluca, outside Mexico City, would allow a few Venezuelans stranded in the United States to return to Caracas on Sept. 23. Those tickets quickly sold out. And then, on Sept. 12, the Venezuelan National Institute of Civil Aviation announced an extension of commercial flight restrictions for 30 more days.
Meanwhile complaints have arisen on Instagram of fake repatriation flights. One itinerary was posted in @venezolanosvaradosenusa2020 with the warning, “Avoid being the victim of these scams.”
Many of those stuck in the United States fear returning home, where some returnees have been forced into government quarantine facilities. There, they have been given little food and must sleep on floors next to other passengers for three weeks without any guaranteed date of freedom. Daily COVID-19 cases have nearly doubled since mid-August and reports say the hospital system is collapsing. Doctors, whose monthly salary is the equivalent of two U.S. dollars, often do not have the minimum supply of masks, gloves, and medicines to treat patients.
Françoise Viera, who’s been stuck alone since her father’s death, has explored private jet services with special government permits that cost $3,000 to $5,000 per passenger. But even those have not worked out. She recently heard about a pregnant woman who came to the United States before the pandemic planning to stay here for a few days to buy baby clothes. Then came the flight shutdown. She gave birth and is now alone and struggling to find a way to survive with her baby, staying at different people’s houses.
“Every story that you hear of Venezuelans stranded here in Miami is worse than the other,” Viera said. “I feel like I was in my house, and someone who entered will not let me in.”
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Valeria Venturini was born in Venezuela and is a junior in Florida International University's Department of Journalism + Media.