This story is part of our series Uprooted: Family Stories of Climate Migration, produced by Moms Clean Air Force’s Latino engagement program, EcoMadres, and coordinated by Danielle Berkowitz-Sklar.
In November 2020, during the middle of a very active storm season, two Category 4 hurricanes slammed into Central America within two weeks. The impacts of these hurricanes, Eta and Iota, left 731,000 people in need in Nicaragua, including a half million residents without basic health services. The storms also severely damaged or destroyed 43,000 Nicaraguan homes.
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A history of Indigenous oppression in Nicaragua
As with environmental disasters around the world, the hurricanes’ effects were particularly brutal for the most vulnerable residents living in already impoverished areas, including the Moskitia Indigenous people on the Miskito Coast.
“I’m a proud Moskitia woman from Nicaragua,” says Beatriz, whose name has been changed to protect her identity. “For a long time, we have had to struggle against colonial powers occupying our land, but once the Ortega regime came to power in 2015, the violence intensified.”
According to Beatriz, the Nicaraguan government armed mestizos (non-Indigenous people) and allowed them to kill Moskitias who refused to leave their land. “Two of my cousins lost their lives trying to defend our right to live on our land. Our village representatives were captured and imprisoned until finally being exiled,” says Beatriz. “The government is trying to eliminate us from our lands so that they can mine it for gold and oil, and sadly, there is little we can do to stop them.”
Desperation after back-to-back hurricanes
In 2020, Beatriz’s situation became even more dire. “My village took a direct hit from Eta and Iota,” she says. “My home, like the rest in our village, was made of wood, and it was completely destroyed by the force of the winds. It rained for an entire night, and our village was flooded. Trees fell on top of homes, and our crops were devastated. The sea life we depended on for food and income were gone.”
Beatriz says that the government tried to take advantage of the climate disaster by promising food and work to people whose lives had been devastated by not one but two hurricanes, but only in exchange for votes in an upcoming election. “We were firm in our convictions and could not accept a corrupt government,” she says. “In response, the government began to resettle mestizos displaced by the hurricanes in our territory, promising to build them homes for free and offer them new jobs. We asked ourselves, ‘Where can we go now?’”
Beatriz’s family, including her two sons and daughter, made the difficult decision to try to go to the U.S. To do so, they had to separate. Her husband was able to immigrate with one of their sons in 2021. The older son followed with her brother three months later. She had to stay behind.
“In 2022, I was able to save $1,000 to cover the trip and leave with my youngest daughter, who was 5 years old at the time,” says Beatriz. They migrated in a caravan for 15 days, traveling on foot and by bus, crossing dangerous terrain, including dense jungles and rivers, in extreme heat. They were extorted and harassed by police in Central America and then Mexico, who wanted money and valuables. “I went on this journey blindly with only God’s grace protecting us. After reaching the border, I was detained for three days before being released to go live with my brother in Maryland,” she says.
How global warming and violence impact migration trends
Beatriz’s devastating first-person account is part of a larger story. “In Central America, we know that that droughts and climate impacts on rainfall are pushing people to move [both] to areas where they are vulnerable to violence, and [also] we actually have really good evidence that climate impacts are one of the reasons why people are moving from Central America to the to the U.S.,” says Lawrence Huang, policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute.
“Climate change alone isn’t forcing people to migrate, but it’s the way that it is intensifying drivers such as violence and social persecution that make people more vulnerable that is driving greater migration,” adds Gabriela Roque, climate immigration program manager at the National Partnership for New Americans’ Climate Justice Collaborative.
Beatriz says that she didn’t make the connection between the hurricanes and how they were weaponized against her family until after arriving in the U.S. “I’m grateful to be here today, to be able to support my family that remains in Nicaragua, and to be a voice for my Indigenous people, the Moskitia,” she says. “The world must take action to fight climate change, and at the same time, bring justice to Indigenous and immigrant communities like mine.”
Learn more about climate migration in our fact sheet.
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