‘I’m praying to God we all go through’: Mexico migrants massing to cross before Trump takes power

Camp refugees want to enter the US by the book, but if the incoming president stops them they may resort to illegal measures

In a migrant shelter perched on a hill on the edge of the US/Mexico border, Pastor Hector Silva is leading a prayer about Donald Trump.
Reaching the climax of his almost four-hour service, he calls on God to fill the president-elect with the “wisdom and understanding” that there are many “good people” waiting to enter the US legally.
“There are people that are doing things according to the law, according to the United States, and they won’t be doing things illegally,” Mr Silva bellows to the open-air hall, where a corrugated iron roof provides respite from the thick, 100 degree Mexican heat.
“We do not want to do things by crossing the river, we want to walk across the bridge after waiting for our call”, he adds.
Had Kamala Harris defeated Mr Trump, 78, in last week’s election, the mood of the shelter’s weekly Sunday service would have been one of merriment and hope.
But today the atmosphere is anything but jubilant. As the pastor circles the room blessing as many of the hundreds of asylum seekers as he can, one man holds his arms in the air, his eyes closed, tears streaming down his face.
Another kneels on the ground, his hands clasped together on a chair, his head bowed.
For the more than 800 migrants living at the Senda de Vida, which translates to “path of life”, Mr Trump’s crushing electoral success brought a wave of anxiety, fear and tears.
“If Harris had won, people would be jumping for joy and as you can see right now, they look sad, they are feeling down,” Mr Silva tells The Telegraph
Those living in this shelter in Reynosa, a city for which the US State Department has issued a “do not travel” advisory, have not tried to cross the Rio Grande to enter the US illegally.
Instead, they have been waiting for months for an appointment through the CBP One app, which was introduced by the Biden administration in January 2023 to deter migrants from making illegal crossings.
Unlike those who enter the country unlawfully, migrants who secure a CBP One appointment can apply for a work permit after they have been vetted and released from US custody. They are then given notice to appear in an immigration court, with cases typically taking years to be decided.
Almost 1 million migrants have entered at official land crossings with Mexico through the scheme since it was launched.
The US government allocates 1,450 new appointments each morning, with 30 per cent given to those who have been waiting in Mexico for the longest.
The future of the scheme does not look bright. Mr Trump, who hung his campaign on a promise to deport millions of migrants, previously vowed to “terminate the Kamala phone app for smuggling illegals”.
And as the dust settled from his victory, Mr Trump appointed two immigration hardliners to his administration.
Among them was his “border czar” Tom Homan, his former acting head of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), who has warned Democrat governors to “get the hell out of the way” if they plan to block mass deportation plans.
Those left waiting on the Mexican border with Texas pray that their appointment will come before Mr Trump is sworn in.
If it doesn’t, many fear they will be forced to attempt to cross the border illegally, risking deportation or being preyed on by the cartel.
When Mr Trump was elected, Berta Lisa Matute held back her tears until she got into bed so her children wouldn’t see her cry.
It has been a perilous journey since she, her husband and their eldest daughter Keyri Yoheli Romero, five, were forced to leave Honduras nine-months-ago after her brother was murdered and their lives were threatened.
“I hope that God illuminates Trump so he doesn’t get rid of the app, or that maybe there’s another way we can go through, because everything we have been through was very difficult,” she says.
“It’s not safe in Honduras, I would not want to go back, but if there are no legal pathways to enter the country, then we might try [to cross illegally].”
Speaking to The Telegraph as she wafts a muslin cloth adorned with watermelons over her baby’s face to cool her down in the sticky heat, she explains how her newborn is called Milagros, which translates to “miracle”, because they were amazed she had survived their passage across Central America.
Mrs Matute was convinced she would suffer a miscarriage because they would go days without food and water.
She gave birth shortly after arriving at the shelter in June and since then the young family has been waiting for a CBP One appointment.
“What kills you is not knowing whether you’re gonna be able to get an appointment or not, and then he [Trump] might get rid of the app”, she says.
Asked about where they want to go in the US, Mrs Matute smiles — they want to settle in Texas and they want to work hard to build a future for their family.
Francisco Gomez, 40, and his family are also waiting desperately for their chance to cross by the book.
They left Honduras 10 months ago after a family member was murdered. They joined a caravan at Tapachula on the Guatemalan border and arrived in Reynosa two weeks later.
“We would suffer when we would walk, because we would get tired, because you’re thirsty and you’re hungry and would sleep in the streets”, he tells The Telegraph while perched on a stool in the corner of his living quarters in the shelter.
Mr Gomez, his wife Dilcia Zepeda, 40, and their daughter, Astrid Zepeda, 13, have been waking up at the crack of dawn each morning to try to get an appointment.
The father-of-one says he’s not concerned about Mr Trump’s election victory, as he trusts “God that he’s gonna be a good president, just like the way he was the first time”.
But he adds that he hopes his family get their CBP One appointment before he takes office, so they can join their family in Baltimore, Maryland and work in construction and restaurants.
Despite instilling hope in those living at his shelter during his sermon, Mr Silva, 56, fears they will be overrun by migrants from both directions when Mr Trump takes office — those who have been deported and those waiting to get in.
There are currently 854 migrants living at the shelter in tents and small wooden buildings, a fraction of the thousands who were here a few years ago. The shelter was so busy people would form queues to sleep.
“I cannot tell them that Donald Trump is a bad person, not as a leader”, Mr Silva tells The Telegraph.
“I’m not going to let them worry, because if I let them worry, everybody’s going to be sick… nobody knows what’s going to happen.”
“Right now they’re trying to figure out what’s gonna happen… they’re like in limbo…  if the other president had won, we would be at ease, resting”, he says.
He is confident that most of the people currently in the shelter will manage to get their appointments in time, because the majority have been waiting around six or seven months.
Among those still waiting is “Carlos Alberto” who missed his coveted CBP One appointment because, he says, he was kidnapped off the streets in Reynosa.
“Mr Alberto”, a pseudonym he asked to be used over fears of repercussions, said he was bundled into a red truck and held at four different stash houses with around 50 other victims until his family in the US paid a $2,000 ransom.
When he was eventually released, he discovered his CBP One appointment had taken place six days previously. His four family members had gone through without him — they are now living in North Carolina.
“I went to the bridge to ask if I could go through and they told me I needed to reapply”, Mr Alberto says, tears visible in his bloodshot eyes.
“If what happened to me hadn’t happened I would have been living there already.”
Mr Alberto left his home in San Pedro, Honduras in September 2022 over fears of falling victim to indiscriminate gang violence. He has not tried to cross the border illegally.
“I’m just praying to God that we can all go through”, he says.
Asked how he feels in the wake of Mr Trump’s victory, he looks anxious.
“I am hoping that he can help us,” he says.
As dusk starts to fall, crowds gather round to watch two teams play football on the Astroturf pitch. Nearby, a man wearing a donated Tough Mudder Finisher 2013 shirt is having a haircut.
Around the corner, two young boys play marbles together down a sloped corridor, while a third walks a stuffed white and black dog on a lead.
Back in the room where Mr Silva had held his service, several residents are on shift watching over the tangle of phones charging on a pile of extension cords.
Everyone here wants as much battery time as possible for when they wake again and try to book an appointment that could change their lives.