The Journey of a Venezuelan Migrant Who Crossed the Darién Jungle -Part 2

"As of 2024 alone, more than 230,000 people have been recorded crossing the Darién jungle, and by August, the figure had already surpassed 8,000 cases, according to the director of Panama’s National Migration Service". El País.

In this journalist report, through the story of Darmis, a broader message is conveyed about the migrant experience in the context of humanitarian crises. My intention is to educate, reflect, and invite a deeper understanding of the complexities surrounding migration.

The Decision Not to Continue

The first stop was Panama, and the plan was to head to Costa Rica. However, the UN informed them that the United States Department of Homeland Security had announced that Venezuelans would be sent back to Mexico if they attempted to cross the southern border. (please read the previous blog post)

Many migrants who crossed the Darién gap in Panama were asking to be deported to Venezuela due to desperation. However, deporting all migrants to Venezuela wasn’t an option, so each person had to decide on their next destination.

Darmis, along with his group, decided to continue and reach Costa Rica to follow the route through Central America. He told me: "We arrived at the border with Costa Rica after a night travelling by bus. I said: 'I'm not going any further, I'm going to find a way to return'. In Costa Rica, we heard stories about groups robbing people, putting them on buses and taking them to the wrong destination. We also heard stories of kidnappings. Despite this, one of the group members continued to the United States and managed to reach Detroit."

Paralysis as a Response to Trauma

Fear paralysed Darmis. The traumatic experience of crossing the Darién and knowing about organised crime caused what Peter Levine (founder of somatic therapy) describes as "immobility", one of the defence mechanisms in the face of danger.

To those unaware, immobility may seem like an act of cowardice. However, theologians explain that it is one of the three primary instinctive responses of reptiles and mammals when facing a threat. In the face of danger, we fight, flee, or remain still.

Darmis’s instinctive decision may have saved his life. We will never know if he would have made it to the United States or not. Darmis decided to return to Panama. He tells me: “I had no plans there; my mind was blocked.”

Friendship and Shared Humanity

“I contacted my friend’s brother, who lives in Panama, and he said: ‘Come to my house’.”

There is something very particular I must acknowledge in Venezuelan culture, and that is solidarity.

“Then, the mother of one of my brother’s friends, who lives in Panama, took us in. She gave us shelter, food, and treated us like her own children. We stayed in Panama for 15 days. It wasn’t easy to find work as an undocumented migrant, and we couldn’t leave the house because we didn’t have any papers; we could have been arrested.”

Panama’s regulations are restrictive for illegal migrants, and there is constant monitoring of migratory flow. Darmis explained to me.

Darmis and his friend, first day in Spain

"While in Panama, a friend with whom I had been friends for 30 years found out about what I was going through. He called me and said, ‘Why don’t you come from Panama to Spain? I’ll buy your ticket, and you can pay me back here.’ But my passport had expired.”

At that time, getting a passport in Venezuela was nearly impossible. One of the harsh realities faced by most Venezuelans under the dictatorship goverment is the difficulty in accessing or renewing passports. Moreover, with an average salary of around $30, a Venezuelan cannot afford a passport that costs $215.

Returning to Venezuela

“We were informed about a refugee camp for Venezuelans where we could take a ‘humanitarian aid’ flight back to Venezuela. My son and I decided to return. We paid $240 for each ticket; they didn’t give us a receipt, and it was a Venezuelan government airline. I went back to Venezuela to get my passport.”

According to Rodolfo Ruiz, an aeronautical lawyer, charging for humanitarian flights undermines their purpose, as they should be free. Humanitarian flights transport passengers in danger or needing medical treatment, as well as medical supplies or food. Repatriation flights are meant to bring stranded or injured citizens back to their country, and the costs should be covered by the State.

Darmis tells me that while processing his passport, he stayed at his mother’s house in Venezuela. Months later, he returned to Colombia to reunite with his wife. During that time, he contacted his friend, who had offered him the opportunity to go to Spain. “I told him I was heading to Colombia that same day. Then he replied: ‘Send me a photo of your passport.’ The next day, he messaged me: ‘It’s sorted, you’ve got a ticket for 7th February, it’s already bought.’”

Thanks to his friend, Darmis embarked on a new migration journey to Spain. Today, he is in Valencia, working and has applied for asylum on humanitarian grounds.

At the end of the interview, his wife tells me: “Do you know that this is the first time I’ve heard him talk about the Darién? This topic is not spoken about in our house. My son and brother-in-law talk about it, but he doesn’t.”

Darmis responds: “It’s such a strong, dramatic situation. It makes you see things differently because, at that time, I didn’t know if I would ever see my family again.”

A report by The newspaper, El País shows that in 2022, 250,000 migrants crossed the Darién, with an increase in Venezuelans and Ecuadorians. In 2023, the number surpassed half a million, the majority being Venezuelans – up to 60%.

Darmis, on the day of our interview in Valencia. Shared his experience of migration

I asked him: “What emotion do you feel when you tell your story?”

“It’s like a weight being lifted,” he replied.

In my experience with women’s circles and interviews with people who have lived through traumatic events, I’ve seen how, through narrative and the recognition of their stories, people heal. I’ve learned that describing and acknowledging what’s been experienced, releasing it from the body, and being actively listened to allows people to feel supported, accompanied, and liberated.

To conclude, I asked Darmis: “What are your thoughts on the migration debate?”

Darmis replied:

“They look at it from their own perspective; they don’t know why we’re here. I often explained to people in Colombia: I’m here because I need to be, not because I want to be. I need to settle somewhere where I can have job and financial stability, as in Venezuela I had no work. Do you think a Venezuelan who walks to Panama does so because they want to? People risk their lives because their country no longer offers them stability or guarantees. People need to educate themselves more about this and be more empathetic towards others.”

What reflections has Darmis’s story inspired in you? Do you have any personal experiences related to migration that you’d like to share? Your perspective and comments enrich this conversation.

If you are interested on this topic, I invite you to watch the series by Anderson Cooper an American Broadcaster Journalist, who crossed the Darién Jungle to show the reality of migrants. The Trek: A Migrant Trail to America

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