{"id":15931,"date":"2025-01-03T01:39:15","date_gmt":"2025-01-03T09:39:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/?p=15931"},"modified":"2025-01-13T03:03:59","modified_gmt":"2025-01-13T11:03:59","slug":"one-of-the-most-dangerous-routes-in-the-world-the-darien-gap-migrant-highway-courtesy-of-the-mafia-der-spiegel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/?p=15931","title":{"rendered":"“One of the Most Dangerous Routes in the World: The Dari\u00e9n Gap Migrant Highway, Courtesy of the Mafia”, Der Spiegel"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The Dari\u00e9n Gap between South and Central America is exceedingly dangerous, but hundreds of thousands of migrants try their luck every year in an effort to reach the U.S. Now, a drug cartel has turned the jungle crossing into big business<\/a> – and the refugees profit as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By\u00a0Marian Blasberg<\/a>\u00a0and Gerald Berm\u00fadez (Photos) in Acand\u00ed, Colombia, Der Spiegel, Berlin, 03.01.2025<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Foto: [M] DER SPIEGEL; Fotos: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL (3), Grafik: DER SPIEGEL<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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There they stand, like a black, cloud-covered wall on the horizon, the hills of the Dari\u00e9n Gap, providing an ominous backdrop to the final preparations as the first rays of sun fall on Hacienda Las Tecas. Five hundred, perhaps even people, having just rolled up their tents at this final Colombian outpost, are now gathered at a gate behind which a drug baron\u2019s herd of cattle grazed not long ago. They silently listen to the words of a steward, who explains through a megaphone that it is an eight-hour march from here to the border of Panama, after which they will be on their own in the jungle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As always, a pastor then climbs onto the fence to recite a prayer, his eyes closed. In the name of Jesus, the man says, don\u2019t think of the dangers. Before us lies a day of opportunity. Before us lies the path to a better future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amen, the crowd murmurs.DER SPIEGEL 1\/2025<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"\/<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 1\/2025 (December 28th, 2024) of DER SPIEGEL.<\/strong>SPIEGEL International<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

“People, eight hours are no joke,\u201d Javier Gonz\u00e1lez calls out as the gate creaks open and the group of migrants begins moving. A wiry 28-year-old with gold jewelry decorating his ears, neck and fingers, Gonz\u00e1lez is wearing rubber boots and a yellow vest bearing the number 66, identifying him as a “mochilero,\u201d one of the numerous rainforest sherpas now winding their way through the crowd offering their services.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Javier<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Javier Gonz\u00e1lez works as a jungle porter in the Dari\u00e9n Gap. Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Save your energy!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Just $50 for each piece of luggage!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Vamos,\u201d he calls out to a Venezuelan man who is pulling several bags into the wilderness with his wife and three children \u2013 but the man waves him away like an insect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gonz\u00e1lez grins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He\u2019s acting now as if he has no money, but in three hours, when it starts getting steep, he\u2019ll come up with something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Gonz\u00e1lez has learned anything from his treks through the forest, it\u2019s patience. At some point, they break. Ultimately, he\u2019ll end up with something to carry in this odd goldrush that has gripped the Dari\u00e9n Gap ever since the drug mafia diversified its operations in the border region and discovered the migrants as a profitable business model. Within just a few years, the Gulf Clan, Colombia\u2019s most powerful cartel, has transformed one of the world\u2019s most dangerous migration routes into a global refugee highway, which generates millions of dollars each week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gonz\u00e1lez is one of several thousand employees of this jungle firm, a tiny cog in a surprisingly well-oiled machine that managed to funnel more than half a million people to the Panamanian border last year alone. And it is a service that people around the world have learned about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As is frequently the case, the Venezuelans, who sang their national anthem at the gate as they always do, are the largest group of migrants on this October morning. They are joined by Haitians, Ecuadorians, Mauritanians, Micronesians, Afghans and Iranians. There are people from Angola, Ghana and Nigeria, fleeing from bitter poverty in their homelands, from bloody conflicts or from the effects of climate change. Men with children on their shoulders, or their dogs or their possessions. One, carrying a guitar, looks like a boy scout. Further back, a one-legged man on crutches is struggling to keep up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A tuk tuk on the way from Acand\u00ed to the Las Tecas camp Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While the departure routine merely marks the beginning of yet another long day\u2019s work for Gonz\u00e1lez, it is a leap into the unknown for his potential clients. The Dari\u00e9n Gap \u2013 the 1,800-meter, rainforest covered peaks of which act as a natural barrier between South and Central America \u2013 is the most challenging leg of a several week-long journey across six countries that will, if all goes well, ultimately come to an end several thousand kilometers to the north in a U.S. asylum center.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those who choose the overland route have little choice. They must navigate their way through this green hell, the swampy paths of which pass by snakes and scorpions. The trekkers must repeatedly clamber over sharp, slippery rocks, cling to roots on steep slopes and wade through streams that tropical rainstorms can instantly transform into raging rivers. At some point, after days in the forest, exhaustion becomes a factor, as does hunger, diarrhea and malaria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hundreds of those who set out on this dangerous journey in 2024 didn\u2019t survive. Many of them simply disappeared, as though the Dari\u00e9n had swallowed them up. There are photos of skulls mounted on poles deep in the forest. Another image shows a skeleton lying in a riverbed, sneakers still on its feet. Such images, though, say the Colombians, come from Panama, where there are no porters and no knowledgeable guides showing the way, just plastic bags tied to branches marking the path. Where the injured and sick are left behind for lack of a doctor marching along with them to offer first aid. Where the armed gangs lie in wait for the migrants to rob, murder and rape them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The abortion pills that international NGOs give to the women?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those are needed in Panama.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On their side of the border, say people who work for the Gulf Clan, the journey is safe, comfortable and relatively clean, because the porters pick up garbage and the jettisoned ballast on their way back. Pants and T-shirts that are still usable are washed and made available in a clothing co-op back Las Tecas. At the most dangerous spots in the forest, there are now safety ropes or steps, and those who are hungry can take a break at one the new rest areas, for which Gonz\u00e1lez and others hauled in refrigerators, hotdog grills and even pool tables. Some of them have WiFi.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is, however, a crucial detail: None of these logistical improvements are free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cartel operates not unlike a tourism agency. They have low-cost routes available, such as the multi-day trek starting in Las Tecas, but there are also packages for clients that are slightly better off, involving speedboats, motorcycles and horses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Four days in the jungle with responsible guides. All of Central America with VIP transport and guides + cell phone chip so you’re always in touch. Lodging, food, safe passage 100% guaranteed,\u201d reads one of the Facebook ads that have been clicked on hundreds of thousands of times \u2013 making it sound as if this trip is little more than a harmless outdoor adventure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The prices vary. The quickest routes cost up to $7,000. The basic entry fee, which everyone must pay, is $350.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For less than that, nobody is allowed to enter the forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So what is it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is it human trafficking?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is it a cynical attempt to take advantage of the desperation facing the poorest of the poor and pull every last dollar out of their pockets?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or is it a win-win situation, as the migrant smugglers insist, pointing out that on their side of the border, there is finally a “humanitarian corridor\u201d of the kind human rights activists have been demanding for years?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Either way, it is rather complex.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The only certainty is that hundreds of migrants continue setting off into the forest each day \u2013 people in whom nobody seems particularly interested aside from the cartel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I am offering a service that gets them a step closer to their dream,\u201d Gonz\u00e1lez says. “So many people have told me: Without your help, I would never have made it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They have been underway for an hour and a half on this October morning when Gonz\u00e1lez stops at a river and scans the faces of the migrants stumbling past looking for signs of exhaustion. The fastest ones, he says, are usually the first to begin fading. To gain the trust of a mother, he gives her young daughter a hand as she carefully navigates over a rock on the riverbank. He then takes a few steps next to a young woman who, in her large Windsor glasses, looks as though she just emerged from an advertising agency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Hundreds<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Hundreds of people who risked the crossing of the Dari\u00e9n Gap last year lost their lives in the attempt. Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Water is sloshing into her boots. Sweat is trickling down her brow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hey, chica! Backpack,\u201d Gonz\u00e1lez says to her, but the woman doesn\u2019t even look up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two years ago, Gonz\u00e1lez says, he lost his job with a security agency and has been working as a porter ever since, though there are a couple of rules he must adhere to. He is not allowed to charge more than $50 for each piece of luggage and he is forbidden from carrying more than 50 kilograms. The rules come from the top to ensure that he doesn\u2019t overexert himself and that there is enough work for the others. After two weeks, a different team of porters takes over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Everything is evenly distributed,\u201d he says, as if the cartel were a communist party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For Gonz\u00e1lez, the job is an opportunity. After more than 300 shifts, he has managed to accumulate some savings and is hoping to use the money one day to fulfill his dream of opening a barber shop. The idea of simply joining his clients on their northward trek is one that occurs to him less and less often, he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A bit later, he points to a couple of tree trunks on a hillside, lying in the mud like huge matchsticks. “We cut them down,\u201d he says, so that sunlight can dry out the ground more quickly. A few bends later, the first large clearing appears, with music coming from wooden shacks and rice with grilled chicken for sale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Migrants<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Migrants in the jungle on their way across the Dari\u00e9n Gap Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The group that includes Jos\u00e9 Daniel, the Venezuelan amputee who is hoping to find a prosthesis in the U.S., reaches the rest stop about half an hour later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Acand\u00ed, a 45-Minute Tuk-Tuk Ride from Las Tecas<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

There is no map documenting the network of winding jungle pathways through the Dari\u00e9n Gap, secret trails that originated at a time when there were no nation-state boundaries. Indigenous peoples used them to maintain contact with relatives on the other side of the Dari\u00e9n. At some point, smugglers picked up on this ancient knowledge and began transporting cigarettes, alcohol and medicines through the jungle. In the 1980s, when the drug baron Pablo Escobar began flooding the U.S. market with cocaine, it became a pipeline for narcotics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"The<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The coastal village of Acand\u00ed at the foot of the Dari\u00e9n Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Gulf Clan materialized later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It emerged out of a paramilitary group that was contracted by large property owners to fight leftist resistance groups like FARC, which used the forests surrounding the Gulf of Urab\u00e1 as a refuge during the civil war. At the beginning of the millennium, when Colombian President \u00c1lvaro Uribe officially disbanded these private armies, some fighters went underground and founded the nucleus that would later become the cartel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today, the Gulf Clan exerts total control over the border region. Having forcibly expelled numerous small farmers, it now rules over a vast expanse of stolen land. It operates illegal goldmines and coca plantations in addition to charging customs duties from other cartels who smuggle their drugs through the region. Corrupt politicians and police officers provide protection for the clan\u2019s operations and thousands of armed fighters ensure unconditional loyalty in the municipalities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing can be done without the cartel, whose local representatives frequently finance weddings and doctor\u2019s visits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is an invisible monster that consumes everything in its path, even an old codger like Juan G\u00f3mez, who you will face at the migrant shelter in Acand\u00ed when you ask to meet the boss. Acand\u00ed, a sleepy village on the Gulf of Urab\u00e1, is something of a hub where those migrants on the budget route through the Dari\u00e9n Gap must check in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The boss, she’s nervous.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Juan G\u00f3mez, organizer<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After paying their admission fee, they receive a bracelet \u2013 just like at a music festival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

G\u00f3mez, a chain-smoking journalist who has reported from the region for more than 20 years, introduces himself at reception as something like a press spokesman. He says he\u2019ll put in a good word but cannot promise anything. The government ombudswoman for human rights has apparently announced a visit in the next few days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The boss, she\u2019s nervous,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It will be the first ever visit from a government representative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In truth, G\u00f3mez is more than just a doorman. He is a shadow that sees everything. In the evenings, he is sitting in an empty restaurant on the beach of Acand\u00ed and stirring the powder of the instant coffee he always carries with him in a small can packed away in his jute bag. A damp breeze blows in across the water as boats chug past. Acand\u00ed, which is only accessible by water, used to survive primarily on fishing, with a couple of tourists showing up during the vacation period.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The foreigners in transit,\u201d as G\u00f3mez refers to the migrants, were just a secondary source of income. When somebody did show up, they would take a room in a hotel and look around for a drug courier in the village to guide them through the jungle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That sleepiness vanished in 2019 when thousands of Haitians suddenly appeared in Acand\u00ed, fleeing from the poverty and violence in their disintegrating country. Suddenly, there were days when 15 or 20 boats would show up, says G\u00f3mez. People began sleeping out in the open once the hotels filled up. There was noise everywhere, and trash. The alcohol flowed and girls in the village began offering their bodies for sale to the foreigners. A short time later, a boat carrying 32 people from Africa sank off the coast. Because there was no cold storage, the bodies were brought to the beach, where they lay in the sun for so long that many locals took to wearing masks to ward off the stench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A migrant from China on the beach of Necocl\u00ed Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a consequence, media outlets finally began turning their attention to the migration crisis at the Dari\u00e9n Gap. When drug investigators also began taking a closer look at the secret pathways, the cartel responded. G\u00f3mez says they had a few couriers executed who defied the order to stop their trafficking business. They then instructed boating companies to go out on strike, which led to thousands of migrants being stranded in the tourist towns on the other side of the gulf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A short time later, the foreign minister sat down in Acand\u00ed for a roundtable discussion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In these talks, says G\u00f3mez, the municipalities asked the government to do something. The list included a morgue, help for the hospital and money for the wastewater system, which had been overwhelmed by the crowds \u2013 but nothing happened. The chaos remained. “Our government isn\u2019t interested in any of that,\u201d says G\u00f3mez, before he disappears into the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning, ahead of the visit of the ombudswoman, he sends a video showing the military pulling a well-known drug smuggler into a helicopter on the beach of Acand\u00ed. Later in the afternoon, news begins spreading that a migrant shelter employee was executed because he was allegedly pocketing some of the proceeds. The boss, G\u00f3mez writes, is stuck in meetings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, in the evening, another message arrives: Come to the hostel tomorrow morning. But don\u2019t forget: No questions about the cartel. And nothing about money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Welcome to the shelter,\u201d reads a large sign next to the entrance gate where G\u00f3mez\u2019s boss welcomes her visitor the next morning. “Come in, we have nothing to hide,\u201d she says, a friendly smile on her face as she leads the way into the finca, which belongs to a fallen “high-risk entrepreneur,\u201d as they call the drug kingpins here. She then apologizes for the fact that it took so long to set up a meeting. She has had, she says, a few “complex days\u201d recently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"The<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The migrant hostel in Acand\u00ed Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And another thing before we get started: Please don\u2019t write my name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What would she like to be called instead?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Coordenadora,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because she coordinates operations here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The coordenadora is a plump woman in her mid-30s. She is wearing tight jogging pants with white-framed sunglasses stuck into her long black hair. As she leads the way on a tour of the facility, a young assistant tags along carrying her backpack. With the ombudswoman\u2019s visit now over, things are rather relaxed on this morning. A few couples are huddled in the shade of a canopy. Others are charging their phones as an employee collects passports and money from a group from Angola. Afterwards, the African migrants sign a paper documenting that they have booked the service at their own risk. At the very bottom, they are asked to check a box indicating whether they have found the service to be “unsatisfactory\u201d or “excellent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"One<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

One of the shops in Necocl\u00ed, where many migrants buy survival kits for the jungle Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shelter has toilets and showers in addition to a Western Union kiosk and a barrack where a nurse is on call 24 hours a day. When the coordenadora opens the door, she points to a cot and says that some Dari\u00e9ns and Darienas have been born there. In the main building, with crocodiles carved into the wooden staircase railings, there is a kitchen where women are preparing a menu that can be purchased for $4.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A short time later, the coordenadora sits down on a plastic chair in a medical supply storeroom. An air conditioner hums. The iPhone in her lap, the latest model available, vibrates constantly as she speaks about how they eliminated the chaos and transformed it into an opportunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“If nobody helps us, we help ourselves,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Initially, it was important to find a site that kept the migrants out of the center of the village, she says. Then, the porters, the guides, the motorcycle, tuk-tuk and cart drivers joined forces to found a cooperative, which began working together under the umbrella of a newly established foundation. They named it “The New Light of Dari\u00e9n.\u201d It is an open secret that cartel representatives pull the strings in the organization. One of the first things they did was establish a fixed price for the passage to the border, a fee which also includes the boat ride across the gulf and the half-hour ride to the camp in Las Tecas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Jungle<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Jungle porters during a break Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whereas porters like Gonz\u00e1lez work on their own account, the drivers, guides and medical workers are paid out of this collective pot. The cartel\u2019s share is also allegedly siphoned off from the foundation revenues, which has officially been registered as a non-profit charitable organization.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When you carefully ask the coordenadora whether this professionalized movement of large crowds of people might actually constitute human trafficking, she grows resolute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Nonsense,\u201d she says. “These people are taking advantage of their right to migrate. They come through here whether we want them to or not. What we are doing is creating humane conditions. We are bringing them to the border, nothing more than that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a brief pause, she continues.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Where is our state? Why is it not sending helicopters to evacuate the injured from the forest? Why are our porters doing that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She says that they offered the state migration authorities the possibility of setting up an office in the hostel, but nobody responded. They only accepted the offer of collecting the migrants\u2019 data and feeding it into an app. She then smiles suddenly. In contrast to the state, she says, they are at least doing something for the region, such as using their revenues to build schools in Acand\u00ed. One city quarter, she adds, is currently being connected to the sewage system. The economy is doing well, with 5,000 jobs having been created . The coordenadora says that she is a nurse herself. When the Haitians began coming several years ago, she had just lost her job at the hospital. So she bought a few pots and began cooking soup for the “Black brothers,\u201d before she founded the first cooperative with a dozen farmers in the area.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“When I asked why she was wearing a mask, she showed me her face. Her jaw was missing. It had been shot off, she told me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The coordenadora in Acand\u00ed<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In spring, she says, she was waiting beneath a mango tree for a trek to begin when one of the heads of the foundation took her aside and appointed her manager of the hostel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She takes a deep breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyes fill with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“During the time that I have been here,\u201d she says, “there have been men who started shaking and were lying dead on the ground just seconds later. One time, a beautiful princess from Venezuela was standing before me. When I asked why she was wearing a mask, she showed me her face. Her jaw was missing. It had been shot off, she told me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody, says the coordenadora, asks how such experiences affect them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Instead, we are treated like criminals.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Necocl\u00ed, 60 Kilometers by Boat from Acand\u00ed<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Just once during our conversation does the coordenadora speak of money, bringing it up on her own. The logistics, she says, generate costs, which is why they are unable to offer their service for free. But they do make exceptions, she says. Last year, she estimates, they waived through around 10,000 clients who had arrived in Acand\u00ed with no money at all to their name. Around one in four migrants, she says, do not pay the full price.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 Daniel, the Venezuelan who lost his leg in a motorcycle accident after riding while under the influence, is among these “welfare cases.\u201d On the evening prior to departure in Las Tecas, he wandered among the tables in front of the chicken stand begging for food. After taking a seat, he explained that he had spent the past few years selling sweets at an intersection in Bogot\u00e1. He left behind his possessions \u2013 a mattress and a fan \u2013 in the room that he had shared with his sister, her husband and their baby. He paid a $330 entry fee for Dari\u00e9n instead of the standard price of $350.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving him $50 for the onward journey through Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala and Mexico to the U.S.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are rumors that women pay with their bodies if they don\u2019t have sufficient cash. Others, it is said, are forced to carry drugs through the forest. A newspaper reported on the case of a man from China who broke his leg on the journey through the jungle. He apparently had to pay $1,000 for the porters to carry him out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They are stories that are just as unverifiable as the profit margins earned by the cartel. Gustavo Petro, Colombia\u2019s president, once put the number at $30 million per year. Others suspect that number might represent the proceeds of a normal month \u2013 while Darwin Garc\u00eda, who operated the hostel before the coordenadora, crowed to the New York Times<\/em> that the operation brought in more than tourism would in 50 years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

When asked where the most profits are generated in this unbridled Dari\u00e9n capitalism, where everything and everyone has a price tag, most people give the same surprising response: the Chinese, who tend to have a higher budget than the other migrants.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a total of around 25,000 migrants, they represented the fourth largest group last year. And they stand out in Necocl\u00ed, a beach town located around 40 nautical miles across the water from Acand\u00ed. Striding through the busy market in their outdoor clothing to buy their survival kit including rubber boots, tent and anti-venom, they look more like package tourists. Whereas those escaping the poverty in Venezuela tend to pitch their tents on the beach, the Chinese migrants book rooms in higher quality hotels where there are signs at reception noting in Mandarin that guests can comfortably pay using the messaging service WeChat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Necocl\u00ed is the eye of the needle through which all migrants must pass. In this small boomtown, where new restaurants and bars are opening on every corner, they meet their migrant smugglers for the first time and listen to their menu of offerings. They rest up here ahead of the onward journey, before boarding overloaded boats that speed them across the water toward the jungle, loud salsa beats blaring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTwo speedboats up the coast, then a day of riding, one day walking and then it\u2019s behind me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Zhang Li, migrant from China<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The small Ensenada Hotel is situated a block away from the promenade. Eight people from China are standing here in the courtyard on one October morning after arriving overnight, hanging up their freshly washed clothes. A couple of lobsters are sizzling on the grill. If you try speaking to them, they rush up to their rooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Zhang Li, 39, is the only member of the group willing to break the vow of silence forced upon them by their smuggler. Like the coordenadora, though, he also asks that his real name not be used. Li is worried, which is why he agreed to a meeting at a corner table in a restaurant the next day to talk about the VIP package he booked for $800.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Zhang<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Zhang Li of China paid $27,000, all of his savings, for the trip from China to the southern border of the U.S. Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Two speedboats up the coast, then a day of riding, one day walking and then it\u2019s behind me,\u201d he says. “Not the cheapest deal available, but it seemed faster and safer to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Li is a shy, smiling man with powerful hands who has trouble remembering all of the factories where he worked during his years of meandering through the provinces of China. He worked a stint in security, once served as a forklift operator and also worked in a warehouse sorting packages containing electronic parts. At the beginning of the pandemic, Li says, he moved to Chad with a group of Chinese laborers where he drove a digger on a road construction project before he was then pulled out of the country following a putsch and put to work back home in a phosphorus mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know,\u201d says Li, “that I will be at the very bottom in L.A. as well. But I am certain that things will be better for me, even if I am just delivering food.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

China is not on the brink like the poverty-stricken dictatorship of Venezuela, but these days, it is a country whose growth model is reaching its limits. Factories are leaving the country for cheaper locations and the vast infrastructure projects that kept people employed for many years have largely been completed. The silent pact, according to which the people of China sacrifice individual freedoms in exchange for a Communist Party that continually boosts prosperity, has begun to fray \u2013 a development that began even before the pandemic, during which many citizens, locked away in quarantine, felt as though they had been left in the lurch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Zhang<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Zhang Yun with her nine-year-old daughter. Chinese migrants make up the fourth-largest group passing through the Dari\u00e9n Gap.Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During that period, says Li, he started clicking on videos on platforms like Douyin that had managed to evade state censors. In many of these clips, labeled with the hashtag #Zouxian, other Chinese reported on their “trekking tours\u201d through Central America.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I thought, so you can just walk there,\u201d says Li. As he watched, he noted down a few telephone numbers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Snakeheads are what the Chinese call these anonymous internet contacts that guide them across the globe. In late June, his man sent him to Bangkok. From there, Li flew to Belgrade via Istanbul, where he got stuck in early July because Ecuador, his gateway to South America, suddenly began demanding entry visas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I feel lost. I no longer know what to believe.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Zhang Li, migrant from China<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a few days, which he spent at the airport, a new path opened up. Li flew via Amsterdam to Surinam, and from there he traveled onward by boat to Guyana. Brazil, Bolvia and Peru slid past the window of his bus \u2013 fields, bridges and border rivers where nobody bothered to check passports. Sometimes, when he had reception, Li would take a screenshot of his location on Google Maps. One image on his phone shows him in handcuffs at a checkpoint where police demanded $100 to allow him to pass, but the snakehead, he says, took care of the situation from afar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His current problem is far greater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His local smuggler from the cartel, who had joined their chatgroup for the first time shortly before they reached Necocl\u00ed, posted in the morning that the risk of being arrested in Panama had risen. In response, he had been forced to make security arrangements, for which each member of the group had to pay an additional $1,200. Otherwise, their journey was over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Li puffs out his cheeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The rumors are flying,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chinese who have already crossed the Dari\u00e9n Gap have written in chatgroups that Chinese secret service agents were combing the camps behind the border on the search for people from China. Recently, the media in Panama reported on the first deportation flights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I feel lost,\u201d he says. “I no longer know what to believe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trip from China to the southern border of the U.S. cost him $27,000, all of his savings, paid out in installments. Now, he finds himself wondering what would be worse: being ripped off or trying to continue on his own from Las Tecas on foot, with no access to the secret hideouts of his smuggler, where he would be safe from arrest \u2013 relying only on his translation app, which hardly provides much assistance out in the jungle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So what is it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Human trafficking?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A humanitarian corridor that ceases to exist at the halfway point?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The only thing that can be said with any certainty is that those trying their luck in the Dari\u00e9n Gap aren\u2019t just entangled in the thicket of Colombia\u2019s never-ending conflict. With the porousness of the southern border having been a major issue in the U.S. presidential elections, they have also become enmeshed in American politics as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whereas the Republican Donald Trump held confused speeches stoking fears about the country being overrun by murderers, pet-eaters or a covert Chinese army, the Democrats, under the leadership of President Joe Biden, sought to reduce the number of illegal immigrants by shifting the border further to the south. Under pressure from the U.S., numerous Central American countries have introduced stricter visa regulations in recent years, which is one of the reasons for the chaos that gripped towns like Acand\u00ed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The migrants found new routes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And those routes became longer and more dangerous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

In spring 2023, the Department of Homeland Security and the governments of Panama and Colombia signed a declaration of intent aimed at ending the “exploitation of vulnerable people for significant profit\u201d in the Dari\u00e9n Gap. Panama, which received an additional $6 million, upgraded its border control agency and closed a few gaps in the fencing running through the forest. Coastal patrols confiscated several dozen boats carrying hundreds of migrants and arrested 68 VIP smugglers, who were accompanying their clients to Panama. They face up to 22 years in prison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beyond that, not much happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In August, when the first U.S.-financed repatriation flights took off, Panamanian President Jos\u00e9 Ra\u00fal Molino capitulated. It simply wasn\u2019t possible, he said. “I can neither arrest them all nor can I force them to return.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those who wanted to, should carry on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Colombia took a similar position.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the security agencies initially arrested a few smugglers in the spring, the boat companies went on strike until the men were released. In September, Colombian President Gustavo Petro said “neither horses nor whips\u201d would hold back the migrants. The responsibility, he said, lies with the U.S.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fact that so many people were embarking on the journey, Petro intimated, was partly a consequence of the sanctions which had driven millions of people in Venezuela into poverty and desperation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“In the eyes of our government, these people are leaves that are best raked into the neighbor\u2019s garden,\u201d said the reporter Juan G\u00f3mez one evening in Acand\u00ed. But perhaps that\u2019s not the whole story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Petro, the first leftist president of Colombia, entered office two years ago with the promise of bringing progress and development to historically backward regions like the one on the Gulf of Urab\u00e1. By allowing the cartel to do the work for him, he is keeping his word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Migrants<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Migrants in the jungle of the Dari\u00e9n Gap Foto: Gerald Bermudez \/ DER SPIEGEL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2024 again saw hundreds of thousands of migrants pass through the Dari\u00e9n Gap \u2013 around 300,000 of them by early September. It is unclear what will become of these people. Donald Trump, who will be sworn in for a second term as president later this month, recently promised to declare a state of emergency for the southern border of the U.S. He plans to deploy the military to take care of the mass deportations he pledged during the campaign. The illegal immigrants aren\u2019t civilians, he says. It is an invasion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The coordenadora already suspects that business isn\u2019t necessarily destined to continue as usual. It is possible, she believes, that people will stop coming at some point. Which is why she believes they should begin diversifying today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Eco-tourism,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 Daniel, the one-legged Venezuelan, made it to Panama. After crossing the border, he says over the phone, he lost his crutches in a river. His brother-in-law carried him out of the forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Li, the man from China, ultimately decided to pay the additional fee after lots of thought. “Praise be to freedom,\u201d he replies from Honduras after several days with no reception. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Dari\u00e9n Gap between South and Central America is exceedingly dangerous, but hundreds of thousands of migrants try their luck every year in an effort to reach the U.S. Now, a drug cartel has turned the jungle crossing into big business – and the refugees profit as well. By\u00a0Marian Blasberg\u00a0and Gerald Berm\u00fadez (Photos) in Acand\u00ed, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001004,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[53],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15931"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001004"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=15931"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15931\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15993,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15931\/revisions\/15993"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=15931"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=15931"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldcampaign.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=15931"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}