Desperation over gang violence fuels a surge of migration from Ecuador to the US

Associated Press

SAN MATEO, Ecuador (AP) — Oswaldo Angulo is a born fisherman, like generations before him. The oldest of his brothers, he dropped out of high school in Ecuador to learn the trade. When he isn’t at sea, Oswaldo, 36, lives with his parents. He can’t imagine it any other way.

Marlon, the baby brother, also lived for the sea – he’s a natural navigator. But he fell into the drug trade. U.S. officials stopped Marlon’s speedboat, carrying 1 ton of cocaine, in 2018. Now 30, he’s serving an 11-year sentence.

Anthony, 32, the middle son, wasn’t drawn to the sea. Instead, he earned a college degree in communications. But like many in this once-peaceful South American country, he was rattled bythe violence that hit over the past five-plus years. On Dec. 27, 2023, he fled his hometown, San Mateo, for the U.S.

In every corner of this nation of 18 million people, gangs have unleashed a wave of violence and extortion, upending lives and spurring an unprecedented exodus. Most who leave want to make it to the United States. The threat of organized crime generally doesn’t qualify people for asylum in the U.S., but that hasn’t prevented Ecuadoraans from leaving, making them the fourth-largest nationality arrested at the U.S. border with Mexico over the last year.

Those who flee often spend thousands of dollars and risk being killed or kidnapped. If they make it to the U.S., they enter into a system of overwhelmed immigration courts where cases can take years. Most people can stay and get work permits until they’re resolved.

In Ecuador’s tailspin of violence, there’s been diminished investment, lower wages and fewer jobs. Residents despair — some believe governments are ineffective or complicit. They lose hope for their financial future or safe environments to raise children.

At first, Anthony Angulo’s mother didn’t take his plans to leave for the U.S. seriously. But he’d seen too much change in Ecuador. He’d been getting threatening text messages demanding money.

“Now is my opportunity,” he told her.

She didn’t try to dissuade him.

___

In San Mateo, everyone seems to know one another – the population is just 5,000; families have lived here for generations. Men fish, alternating between days or weeks at sea and preparations for the next trip. For some, like Oswaldo Angulo, it’s still a viable way to make a living. For others, opportunities dried up.

Ecuador at large was long a peaceful spot for the region. But drug trafficking, gang fights for control, and waves of violence rocked the country, starting around 2018.

Gang members and associates go door to door, demanding “vacunas” – monthly payments in exchange for protection. The vacunas – literally, vaccine in English — affect Ecuadorians of all classes and income levels.

In San Mateo and other fishing villages, vacunas for boat owners are $140 monthly per motor, or $280 for the twin-motor vessels needed for longer voyages. Fishermen say they get plastic tags that read “Choneros 100%” — named for the gang that controls the area.

For some, vacunas are too much to pay. For others, payments cut into profits.

___

By December 2023, violence and extortion had become a part of everyday life for the Angulos and the rest of San Mateo. But the disappearance that month of the six local fishermen, including two teenagers, traumatized them.

Alarm spread as days went by with no word. The military found nothing; townspeople banded together to search.

That eventually turned up three bullet-ridden bodies. The others haven’t been found and are presumed dead.

There’s been no arrests; motives are unclear.

It was the last straw for Anthony Angulo. Gangs had been after him for extortion money. He’d had enough.

The family sold a boat motor that remained after father and patriarch Alfonso, now 62 and blind from diabetes, retired. Anthony paid $1,300 to fly to El Salvador and had $2,000 wired to him for smugglers to get him to the U.S. border.

___

Even local authorities say they understand why Anthony and others leave.

Javier Briones, who oversees public safety for the Manta-area government, including San Mateo, said police are outmatched by the gangs and criminals.

Briones said he understands the exodus – especially of fishermen and their families. He noted fishermen profit less and pay crews less when extorted.

“People have gone broke and don’t see how to recover,” he said. “We do what we can with what we have.”

Oswaldo Angulo notices many fishermen leaving for the U.S. He works on large industrial ships — unlike the small ones relatives and neighbors use, paying vacunas — and is relatively unfazed by the violence. But his crews have limited departures for monthlong trips to early evening hours, considered the best time to avoid bandits who look for victims close to shore.

___

Anthony Angulo is part of Ecuador’s largest wave of migration in recent history, surpassing two considerable ones in the early 2000s.

Since January 2021, the U.S. Border Patrol has arrested Ecuadorians about 350,000 times. During that time, Panama registered more than 100,000 Ecuadorians walking through the Darien Gap, a rugged 60-mile (96-kilometer) stretch of jungle.

Migrants who pass through the Darien are often among the poorest – it might cost a few hundred dollars in transportation and other expenses.

Others buy round-trip airfare to El Salvador and pay $90 for a passport to skip the jungle. Smugglers charge several thousand dollars to reach the U.S.

Angulo was among the latter group.

He made it to the U.S., surrendered to border agents and spent three months in jails. He was released with a court date to pursue asylum – in December 2027.

Anthony lives with a friend in New Jersey, works at a factory and sends money back home.

His mother takes comfort that Anthony is near brother Marlon, who’s scheduled for early release from a Pennsylvania prison in 2026 and will likely be deported.

For Anthony, jail was a time of reflection. Maybe, he realized, he didn’t fully appreciate life in Ecuador. He said he wants to go back when it’s safer.

But when will that be? No one in his family or San Mateo knows.

“I can’t return to Ecuador until things get better,” he said.

___

This story was supported by funding from the Walton Family Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content.