Yennissey Paz and Jesús Jank Curbelo are just two of an increasing number of Cubans who have migrated to the United States since 2022, but their stories are familiar.
They brought with them hopes of better medical treatment and freedom of the press; and they carried with them things that reminded them of home and gave them strength to persevere through the dangerous journey where they encountered death, kidnapping, hunger and disease.
Since 2020, emigration from Cuba has reached the highest level in the country’s modern history. In fiscal year 2022, U.S. authorities encountered Cubans at the U.S.-Mexico border nearly 225,000 times and were interdicted at sea more than 6,000 times.
Paz and Curbelo made that journey and both wound up settling in North Texas.
Mother longs to be reunited with children who still live in Cuba
Paz sat on a dark brown couch in Mesquite on a warm September afternoon. She opened WhatsApp and video-called her children she left behind in Santiago de Cuba.
“‘¿Como te fue hoy en la escuela, amor de mi vida? ¿Te gusta la nueva escuela?’,” she asked in Spanish.
Paz, 38, calls her 10-year-old son and 15-year-old daughter every day. She longs for the day she can ask them in person, “How was school, love of my life? Do you like your new school?”
Her daughter will soon celebrate her quinceañera, a milestone Paz never imagined missing. But her husband’s need for insulin forced them to migrate to North Texas in 2019.
He’d been diagnosed with diabetes in 2009, and he needed two types of insulin four times every day. The government gave him one kind, and family and friends helped him get the other.
When they left Cuba, Paz carried a white card with her husband’s medical record of the times and doses of insulin he needed. She had their yellow fever vaccination cards and the diploma that said she had a master’s degree in education. She also carried photos of her children: Two of her daughter with perfectly groomed hair and a big smile, and one of her son in his baseball uniform.
All of these, she tucked in a Bible her mother had given her.
Three years after they left Cuba, Paz and her husband arrived at Piedras Negras, Coahuila, Mexico, to cross the Rio Grande into the United States.
They were stopped once when a helicopter hovered over them in the middle of the night, water up to their shoulders. They tried a second time before sunrise. The current was slower, the water below their knees. U.S. Border Patrol agents were waiting for them.
“They told us, ‘Welcome to the U.S.,’” Paz said.
Paz and her group were given time to change clothes and call family before they were taken to a detention center. It was the end of an arduous journey and the beginning of their new life. Sitting just inside the United States, she reflected.
The couple had to wait in several countries for months before they could save enough money to continue their journey north.
Paz can’t forget the moment she crossed the Darién Gap, a roughly 60-mile stretch of dense rainforest, steep mountains, and swamps between Colombia and Panama.
The Darién Gap saw a surge in crossings in 2022. Nearly 250,000 people made the dangerous journey, up from 130,000 in 2021, according to the Migration Policy Institute.
Paz traveled with a Venezuelan family, including two children and a dog. Tragedy struck when the children fell into a river while trying to save their pet. The current swept them away, and the father couldn’t react in time.
“We only found the body of one child. We wrapped him in a white sweater and left him there for the animals to eat because we could not do anything else.”
For days, Paz couldn’t sleep, haunted by the thought that it could have been her own children.
“People often said, ‘Well, you decided to take this route,’ but no one will understand why we made this decision,” she said.
Now, her husband receives monthly doses of insulin, along with needles, syringes, alcohol wipes, gauze, and bandages.
More than a year has passed since Paz applied for permanent residency. She dreams of bringing her children to the U.S., and picking them up from school instead of relying on video calls.
Leaving her home country was a heart-wrenching choice. Her husband’s health was at risk, and the dangers of the journey made it too perilous to bring her children. She also worries about her father, who has been diagnosed with cancer.
Every phone call with him brings fear that she may never hug him again.
“He tells me, ‘I will die when I can hug you again.’ It breaks me. I hope no one has to go through that,” Paz said.
Journalist left Cuba seeking freedom of the press
Most people don’t want to leave their country. Often, there are situations that push them out, said Jesús Jank Curbelo.
Born and raised in Havana, Cuba, Curbelo, 33, is a journalist who began his career with the state-run newspaper. He later joined Periodismo de Barrio, an independent online outlet focusing on environmental and social justice issues.
Curbelo was passionate about telling the stories of his community, frequently traveling to remote areas of Cuba to report on the lives of everyday citizens.
Despite the challenges, he had no desire to leave the island.
That changed when the government intensified its crackdown on the independent press. The harassment escalated, and it became increasingly difficult for Curbelo to work. Police frequently interrupted his interviews, making reporting dangerous.
In 2019, while gathering information for a story in a small town, Curbelo was detained by authorities. The government searched him and erased the files on his laptop and camera, CiberCuba, a local Cuban online outlet, reported.
In September 2022, Curbelo fled Cuba for Nicaragua, beginning a journey toward the United States. His destination: North Texas, where his father had lived for over a decade.
Curbelo had previously visited his father on a visa but never imagined he would one day make the trip illegally, smuggled by coyotes.
Having read numerous stories about others making the dangerous trek through Central America and across the U.S.-Mexico border, Curbelo was familiar with the risks.
Yet, when it came time for his own journey, he tried to block out the reality.
“I told myself, ‘Trust what the coyotes are telling you. Do exactly what they are telling you and don’t think, protest, or complain. I mean, trust what they are telling you because right now they are the only people you have,’” Curbelo said.
He observed everything through the lens of a reporter, constantly thinking in the third person. To safeguard his work, he sent his notes to his email, knowing that if he lost his phone, his documentation would vanish with it.
Curbelo arrived in Piedras Negras, Coahuila, and crossed the Rio Grande in October 2022.
It took him only 10 minutes to cross the river in shallow water.
After being detained and processed by Border Patrol agents, Curbelo was released and put on a bus to San Antonio. There, his father picked him up.
Since arriving in the U.S., Curbelo said all he has wanted to do is continue to do journalism, to tell stories.
He secured freelance work for various national and international outlets, but that is not enough. Curbelo supplements his income working as a cook at a nearby Taco Bell.
Sometimes, that makes both jobs difficult. Recently, Curbelo was working his shift at Taco Bell when he got a call from a source in Cuba.
“It was the only time this person could talk. So I had to take a break and run to my car and take the call for a half hour,” he said.
Settling down has been difficult for Curbelo. When he talks to friends or other people who have emigrated, they ask him why he can’t find another job or why he can’t do journalism. But it is what he loves, went to school for and wants to do.
As a reporter in Cuba, he always felt compassion and tried to put himself in the shoes of the people he was interviewing. After emigrating and telling his own story, he reflected even more on what it means to have empathy and the power of storytelling.
“We always see the story from the outside, but when we become the story, it’s a whole different feeling,” Curbelo said.
This is part of a joint reporting effort called Crossing Points that is intended to show migration into the United States from a global perspective using new storytelling techniques. The lead partners are The Dallas Morning News, VII Foundation and Outriders.