Hope in Exile: Gema’s journey to asylum

By Camila Rice-Aguilar

Human Rights First’s former client, Gema Valle, was a teacher in Nicaragua before she was forced to flee the country due to her support of the 2018 student-led social uprising. She came to the U.S. with her son in 2018 to seek asylum from political persecution. This article is based on an interview with Gema conducted in Spanish and translated into English.

“I was raised by my grandmother and our family matriarch in Managua,” Gema began. She described her grandmother as a humble, hardworking woman who prioritized the education of the women in her family. All of Gema’s aunts and her mother graduated from college and became teachers. Raised around these intelligent and determined women, Gema was eager to pursue higher education. Even after becoming pregnant and narrowly escaping an abusive relationship with her son’s father, she continued her studies and eventually became a teacher in 2007. She worked with kids in elementary school in the mornings and taught high school students in the afternoons for 11 years, up until 2018.

April 18, 2018, marked the beginning of what would become the largest uprising in Nicaragua since the civil war ended in 1990. Peaceful demonstrators took to the streets protesting the Ortega government’s changes to the social security system that would lower benefits for senior citizens. What started as a peaceful protest was met with violence and a brutal crackdown at the hands of the National Police and armed pro-government groups. In one protest, Gema recalled police officers and government supporters on the news brutally attacking senior citizens, which led more people to join the protests. Dissent grew into a broader expression of discontent with Ortega’s 11-year rule and quickly escalated when pro-government forces began killing students.

“In one of my classes, I was teaching 9th grade, 14 to 16 year-olds, who understood what was going on in the news, and some of them had family members who had been attacked during protests,” Gema said. “They kept asking me how they could help, but it was so hard to respond because I didn’t want them to put themselves in danger.”

Gema joined one peaceful demonstration on Nicaragua’s Mother’s Day. The protest, dubbed “the Mother of All Marches,” was led by the mothers of some of the 83 protesters who had been killed since the uprising began in April 2018. The peaceful march turned violent when pro-Ortega forces opened fire on protestors. At least 11 were killed and more than 80 injured.

“It was a peaceful march that day in memory of the pain of the mothers who had lost their children to assassinations and torture,” Gema explained, “We were attacked with weapons and there were many wounded and dead as well. Once again, I witnessed first-hand the pain, death, and my own impotence.”

Soon classes were suspended nationally because of the protests and Gema was out of work. Many of the university campuses were converted into safe houses where students and protestors could take refuge and treat the wounded since government hospitals turned away people suspected to be involved in anti-government activities. On several occasions, Gema went to universities to deliver water and medical supplies.

One of Gema’s students, an athlete and the fastest runner at her school, ran out one day to deliver medical supplies to a university and was shot through the throat by a paramilitary sniper.

“My life completely changed,” Gema expressed through tears.

Repression of the social uprising was swift. By the end of 2018, at least 355 people were dead, more than 2,000 injured, and hundreds illegally detained and tortured. Today, more than 250,000 people have reportedly been forcibly displaced from Nicaragua to other countries.

The Ortega government implemented an “exile, jail, or death” policy for opposition figures, labeling pro-democracy activists as terrorists and using the justice system to suppress dissent. The systematic repression of critics, journalists, and human rights defenders accompanied the forced closure of hundreds of non-profits, universities, and media outlets.

Gema began receiving threatening phone calls from unknown individuals who claimed to know her location and personal details. In July, the death threats started via Facebook Messenger. Members of the police stationed themselves in front of her home for hours at a time. She knew the police were not there to protect her, as they were searching for people engaged in “anti-government” activity.

Someone in Gema’s neighborhood was reporting on people who posted critiques of the government online or flew the Nicaraguan flag — a symbol that student protests had co-opted. Once Gema returned to work and was walking back from school with her son, she was intercepted by a group dressed in civilian clothes and armed with AK47s. “They insulted me and destroyed my car,” she stated. “They told me they’d kill me next time they saw me.”

 Gema tried seeking safety at a human rights office in Managua, but the day after she submitted her case, the human rights workers were attacked and the office burned. She knew then she needed to flee the country and seek safety. 

“I was afraid for myself and for my son. There were so many mothers in prison and being tortured for protesting the government, and as a single mother, I needed to protect my child.”

Gema knew people were being detained at airports or shot trying to cross the border into Costa Rica, so she decided to flee the country by bus and on foot. Eventually, Gema and her son made it to the U.S. at a port of entry in Arizona. They were held for over a week in detention before they were released to California where Gema’s childhood friend offered to sponsor them. As a condition of her release, she was forced to live with an ankle monitor.

“It was frustrating walking my son around with the device [ankle monitor] around my foot,” she said, “I thought those were for criminals, and I hadn’t committed any crime.”

A few months after arriving in the U.S., Gema learned about Human Rights First from someone at her local church. With access to pro bono legal representation, she was able to file for political asylum.

“I felt such profound relief to know that I wasn’t alone,” she said.

Human Rights First provided her with a lawyer, a social worker, and financial help to cover basic expenses. Eventually, Gema’s ankle monitor was removed, and she received a work permit. Her English teacher connected her with a custodial job at a local catholic school, where Gema continues to work today. “I was dying to be back in a school,” Gema said. The job allowed her to enroll in medical care and better support the health and education of her son.

“My son is 13 years old now. He’s an honors student and likes to volunteer at a soup kitchen for the homeless. I am so proud of the young man he is becoming,” Gema shared. 

Gema and her son were both granted asylum on January 16, 2020. “It was a beautiful feeling,” she shared. “I started crying when the judge welcomed me officially to the United States. It was all due to the support I received along the way.”

“For me, asylum meant a lot because it gave me the protection and the opportunity to tell my story. Asylum gave me back hope for me and my son.”

The Nicaraguan authorities labeled Gema a “terrorist” and “traitor to the nation,” and she is never allowed to return to the country. She now grapples with the reality that she cannot return to her home country, at least while the Ortega government remains in power. “I really miss Nicaragua,” Gema answered. “My students were in 9th grade when I left, and now they’re getting ready to graduate high school. I miss connecting with them. But we cannot lose hope. For now, we survive.” 

Despite everything Gema has endured, she holds a deep love for her country and her identity as a Nicaraguan: “I am proud to be Nicaraguan. It’s a beautiful country with hardworking, welcoming, and charitable women and men who are always willing to help in any way we can. Now living in the United States, my son and I hold onto our Nicaraguan identity and try to share our culture with our neighbors through food and tradition. We will never lose that.”