by Elket Rodríguez

How do you contain passion? How can you decide to stop doing what you love to avoid risking your health and life? How do you stop helping others when that is what you love and what your faith pushes you to do?  

Do you judge yourself if you put yourself in danger? Do you judge yourself if you protect yourself?

That is Gladys Cañas’ predicament in the coronavirus chasm. She's pondering whether she should close her office in downtown Matamoros, next to the sprawling refugee camp, or continue helping migrants at the expense of her health and her staff's security. 

"We are the only organization currently helping migrants in Matamoros directly from our office, aside from the doctors who work at the clinic," Cañas said. "Everybody else closed their offices last week."

Cañas operates Ayudándoles a Triunfar (“Helping Them Succeed”), which provides clerical services to asylum seekers waiting in Matamoros, just across the Mexico-U.S. border from Brownsville, Texas. 

Ayudándoles a Triunfar distributes personal care and hygiene products, food and drugs to migrants. On behalf of immigrants, it also makes phone calls to consulates, sends letters to government agencies, locates family members and translates documents. 

"We also serve as a point of contact with persons who want to aid migrants at the border. We depend on partnerships to help this vulnerable population, " Cañas explained. "We have seen a reduced flow of persons crossing from the U.S. People are getting fired. Small businesses and taquerias are closing. They (migrants) are aware of the coronavirus. They are beginning to feel desperate." 

The COVID-19 pandemic places about 9,000 migrants at risk of death as they wait in Matamoros, biding their time as their cases wind through the U.S. immigration system. These men, women and children, mostly from Central America, are particularly vulnerable to the pandemic, since they can't practice social distancing. 

"We've spread the information about the coronavirus to them (migrants) to prevent contagion. But the camp doesn't allow them to self-quarantine,” Cañas said. “It is difficult for them to wash their hands. They have to share the sinks and the portable bathrooms. 

"There is a lot of uncertainty, and they are desperate, but not to the point of chaos. Nobody in the camp has been diagnosed with coronavirus yet, and there is still food available."   

Cañas is concerned about mass contagion and death in the Matamoros camp. "It is just a matter of time," she said. “But do these migrants have other options? They risk death and persecution if they return to their home countries. If they cross to the U.S., they can get coronavirus.

“If they stay where they are …, they have a chance to continue their cases in court under the Migrant Protection Protocols. All they think about is their immigration cases." 

Cañas is deeply committed to the needy migrant community. This is her passion. She doesn't want the migrants to feel lonely at this crucial moment. 

"Since the border closed, they are realizing (volunteers who care for them) are not coming to Mexico anymore from the U.S.” she explained. “They are concerned. They show up at the office, and the only thing they want is to be heard. They are looking for someone who can listen to them. They feel lonely.

"I'm always available to listen to them." 

Elket Rodríguez, an attorney and minister, is CBF’s immigrant and refugee specialist. He lives on the U.S.-Mexico border, in Harlingen, Texas, and works with CBF Advocacy, CBF Global Missions and Fellowship Southwest.