Thousands of migrants have left Mexico City for a 2,800-kilometer route through areas known for cartel violence. Organizers said the route to Tijuana is less dangerous than heading straight to the closest US entryway.
"We're hungry, we can't keep waiting, we're moving on," Honduran migrant Roni Suazo told Reuters news agency. "Our mission is to go to the United States, not Mexico."
Thousands of migrants had spent the week in a sports complex in Mexico City, where they received medical attention along with food and water.
Dangerous route
The migrants plan to take the metro to the outskirts of the Mexican capital and continue on to Queretaro, then Guadalajara, Culiacan and Hermosillo before reaching Tijuana on the US-Mexico border, said Nashieli Ramirez, who heads Mexico's Human Rights Commission.
Although Mexico City lies only 600 miles (965 kilometers) to the closest US border entry point, caravan organizers said it was far too dangerous due to violent gangs operating in that area. Instead, they have opted for a 1,740-mile (2,800-kilometer) route to Tijuana, one that they consider less dangerous.
However, the route will still take the caravan through territories known for excessive drug violence, including Sinaloa state, where Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman once ran one of the deadliest cartels in modern history.
Their departure comes a day after US President Donald Trump signed an executive order that suspends the means for migrants who entered illegally into the country from seeking asylum.
"I just signed the proclamation on asylum — very important," Trump said before heading to Paris for World War I services. "People can come in but they have to come in through the points of entry."
Shortly after Trump announced the executive order, civil rights groups sued in a San Francisco court, seeking an injunction. The groups argued that the order violates the US Immigration and Nationality Act, which allows anyone in the country to apply for asylum and is not contingent on how they entered.
"President Trump's new asylum ban is illegal," said Omar Jadwat at the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). "Neither the president nor his cabinet secretaries can override the clear commands of US law, but that's exactly what they're trying to do."
The migrant caravan is largely comprised of Honduran refugees fleeing widespread gang violence in their homeland. Others are from Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua.
Honduran refugees risk their lives to get to US border
Refugees from Central America are trying to draw attention to the human rights abuses they face while trying to get to the US. Sanne Derks documented their experiences in and around a shelter in Apizaco, Mexico.
Image: Getty Images/D. McNew
On the move
Most Central American migrants travel on top of cargo trains, to reduce the risk of being stopped and deported. Buses are more often stopped by migration officers. Crossing the American border is a challenge. In case they cannot afford a "coyote" — a human trafficker— many of the young men consider carrying drugs as a means to pay for the border crossing that is controlled by drug cartels.
Image: DW/S. Derks
Risking life and limb
Catching a moving train is not without danger: Alex Garcia, who used to be a farmer, lost his leg while trying to get off a moving train. He is recovering at a refugee shelter and doesn't know where to go afterwards.
Image: DW/S. Derks
Keeping a low profile
According to Miquel Angel (above) the biggest risk along the road is being kidnapped by organized criminal groups, like the Zetas. Most migrants do not carry a cellphone or a notebook, in case they are caught and extorted.
Image: DW/S. Derks
Respite from the hazardous journey
The migrants try to find shelter along the route in one of Mexico’s 52 albergues, or shelters. In Apizaco they are allowed 24 hours to rest, except when they are the victim of a crime or accident. All four men in the picture have permission to stay longer, as they were either shot or otherwise physically injured during their journey.
Image: DW/S. Derks
The waiting game
Sometimes the migrants have to wait for days for the next train. Delmin Flores (center), and his two cousins Alejandro Deras and Luis Deras sit in the sun for hours in front of the shelter. They were forced to leave their coffee-growing region in Honduras after coffee prices plummeted. At night, they risk being robbed or killed by organ trade traffickers.
Image: DW/S. Derks
Clambering to safety
Hardly any children or women take the journey by train. The risk of falling into the hands of traffickers or being violated is very high. This woman and child are accompanied by the husband, who has tried the journey more than 17 times.
Image: DW/S. Derks
A close call
Herdin Varga recounts how he was shot by a guard on the train. The bullets hit him in his arm and neck. One centimeter to the right and he would be dead. He's been given permission to recover in the shelter and is in the process of requesting a temporary permit to travel Mexico so that he can continue his trip by bus.
Image: DW/S. Derks
Praying for safe passage
The shelter was founded and funded in 2010 by the Catholic priest Ramiro Sanchez. It later turned into a civil organization, independent of the government. Before meals are served, refugees pray together. Many of the migrants are religious and believe that God will provide protection during their journey.
Image: DW/S. Derks
On the outside looking in
If they've checked out of the shelter, migrants cannot enter again to spend the night. This rule has been installed to protect the safety of the employees who fear that the migrants may have been come into contact with human traffickers. "The shelter is for humanitarian aid, not for people making business out of it," shelter employee Sergio Luna told DW.
Image: DW/S. Derks
All in vain
This group of migrants boarded the only train that passed that day, but it stopped immediately after leaving the railway station. They were forced to walk back to the shelter and try their luck next time.