Central American asylum seeking caravan reaches US border

About 130 Central Americans, mostly women and children, have arrived at the U.S. border with Mexico in a "caravan" of asylum-seeking immigrants that has drawn the fury of President Donald Trump.

Two busloads arrived late Tuesday in the Mexican border city of Tijuana at two migrant shelters just steps from one of the most fortified stretches of border separating the U.S. from Mexico. They joined another 50 or so who arrived in Tijuana over the last week or two.

A Honduran migrant toddler who is traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants cries inside a tent set up at the Juventudes 2000 shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

A Central American migrant mother holding her baby steps stands by the luggage area under the bus after arriving to Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

Four more busloads of about 200 Central Americans — mostly women and children but including some men — were expected to arrive in Tijuana Wednesday, said Alex Mensing, project coordinator for Pueblos Sin Fronteras, which is organizing the effort.

U.S. lawyers planned to lead clinics later this week on U.S. asylum law to tell the immigrants what to expect when they seek asylum. The first groups plan to try to enter the U.S. on Sunday at San Diego's border crossing.

Trump and senior aides have portrayed the caravans and the asylum seekers as evidence of a dysfunctional border and a serious threat. The president tweeted this week that he has issued orders "not to let these large Caravans of people into our Country. It is a disgrace."

A two-year-old migrant boy who is traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants pulls his luggage and diapers to a shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

A Honduran migrant who is traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants walks with her two children to a shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

The caravans have been a fairly common tactic for years among advocacy groups to bring attention to Central American citizens seeking asylum in the U.S. to escape political persecution or criminal threats from gangs.

But the latest one drew more attention because Trump's attention from almost the moment it began March 25 in the Mexican city of Tapachula, near the Guatemalan border. And while it slowly traveled across Mexico. Trump used it as an example to try to win more support for his planned border wall — even though the asylum-seekers plan to turn themselves in to border inspectors.

Central American migrants traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants wait to be registered at the Viña de Cristo shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

Central American migrants traveling with a caravan wait to be registered at the Viña de Cristo shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

Taxi driver Jovanne Torres from El Salvador said Wednesday after arriving in Tijuana Tuesday that Trump's attacks on the caravan makes him doubt whether he'll succeed in getting asylum for himself, his wife and his daughters ages 4 and 10 months — but he still plans to try.

Torres, 37, said he fled his hometown near the country's capital of San Salvador and joined the caravan days after a gang threatened to kill him and his wife when he refused to give a free ride to a gang member.

He thinks he could be killed if he goes home and decided against seeking asylum in Mexico because he wants to join relatives in Houston.

Central American girls, who are traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants, play in the patio of the Viña de Cristo shelter while their parents organize accommodations for the night in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

A mother and her child, who are traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants, receive donated food upon arrival to the Juventudes 2000 shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

"Trump's words have made it difficult for us," he said.

This caravan's numbers pale compared to the roughly 200,000 people who were arrested at the border in Texas' Rio Grande Valley during the spring of 2014 during the administration of President Barack Obama, many of them Central American women and children. Thousands of Haitians seeking to enter the U.S. turned themselves in to U.S. border inspectors at the Tijuana-San Diego border crossing, the nation's busiest.

U.S. Customs and Border Protection has space to hold about 300 people at the crossing, said Pete Flores, director of the agency's San Diego field office. It turns them over to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement to determine if they should be held long-term of if they can be released while their cases are pending, often wearing ankle monitors that track their movements.

Central American mothers and children who are traveling with a caravan of migrants, wait to figure out their night's accommodations at a shelter after arriving to Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

A mother and her child who are traveling with a caravan of Central American migrants wait in line for a free meal after arriving to the Juventudes 2000 shelter in Tijuana, Mexico, Wednesday, April 25, 2018. The caravan of mainly Central American migrants are planning to request asylum, either in the United States or Mexico. (AP Photo/Hans-Maximo Musielik)

The San Diego border crossing was so overwhelmed by Haitians in 2016 that U.S. officials worked with their Mexican counterparts to create a ticketing system that let the Haitians in over time. Some waited their turn in Tijuana more than five weeks.

More recently, asylum seekers have had to wait at most only a few hours, never overnight, Flores said. If asylum-seekers make it through initial screenings with asylum officers by establishing "credible fear" of being returned to their homelands, they are allowed in and face what can be lengthy proceedings before U.S. immigration judges.

Ginger Jacobs, a San Diego immigration attorney who helped Haitians seeking entry to the U.S. in 2016, said Trump's concerns about a rush of Central Americans seeking asylum were "completely overblown."

"I don't see this caravan thing being a big deal," she said. "I see it as something the port will be able to handle competently and professionally."

Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen, in a message apparently aimed at asylum seekers, said Wednesday that anyone who makes false claims to immigration authorities is subject to criminal prosecution. The same goes for anyone who assists or coaches immigrants on making false claims.

Nielsen's threat is consistent with the administration's narrative of widespread "asylum fraud" and claims that asylum-seekers are coached on what to tell U.S. authorities.

The secretary also said asylum seekers in the caravan should seek protection in the first safe country they reach, including Mexico.

U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions said he may assign additional immigration judges to handle caravan cases.

The Juventud 2000 migrant shelter, on the edge of Tijuana's red-light district, is filled with dome-shaped tents to accommodate more than 200 arrivals.

Its director, Jose Maria Garcia Luca, said two previous caravans in May and November of last year had about 100 people each. Those who sought asylum reported no significant delays entering the U.S.

"This is nothing like the Haitians," Garcia Luca said. "That was chaos."

MEXICO CITY (AP) — On a Sunday afternoon in Mexico City’s Roma neighborhood, Rosa María Espinosa joins nearly 80 men under a park pavilion to play poleana, a board game requiring mental dexterity that was born in the city's prisons nearly a century ago.

Espinosa blows smoke rings with her cigarette and laughs with the others. Today she will be the only woman playing.

Though the game's origins still carry a stigma, it is having a moment as people from diverse backgrounds discover its appeal.

“It’s a lot of adrenaline,” said Espinosa. “But sometimes the dice aren’t lucky.”

Poleana is played on a square wooden box with a sunken center for dice rolling. Four players, each with four pieces, race to navigate the board, using specific dice combinations and calculations to move their pieces from their starting positions, around the board, and out through their designated corner, while strategically blocking opponents.

The board symbolizes the confines of prison, and getting out before the others, winning freedom — even if just metaphorically — is the game’s goal.

“People used to say ‘these folks know how to play because they've been to prison,’” said the 62-year-old Espinosa. “Thank God I’ve never been, but I like to play.”

This afternoon’s tournament marks the first time she’s competed against anyone outside her circle of relatives or friends she usually plays with on Tuesdays and Sundays in the small chapel of her apartment complex.

Alejandro Olmos, an archaeologist and anthropologist specializing in Mesoamerican games at the National Anthropology and History School, has studied and played poleana for years.

He traces the game’s origins to the Indian game chaupar (or pachisi), with archaeological evidence dating back to 600 A.D. After British colonization, the game spread to various Western countries under different names, including Ludo, Aggravation and Parcheesi.

In the United States, game maker Parker Brothers marketed a similar game, which was based on the 1913 novel by Eleanor H. Porter “Pollyanna.”

Sometime around 1940, the game spread in the lockups of Mexico City, with Lecumberri—a prison whose very architecture echoed the geometry of the poleana board — likely serving as its initial breeding ground. It was here where it was renamed poleana and received a new set of rules.

“All cultures have a process called adoption-transformation,” Olmos said. In Mexico, “the game reflects the roughness of prison life: mistakes are not pardoned.”

Six years ago, Jonathan Rulleri started a family business promoting poleana with the goal of bringing together people from different walks of life.

One of the early challenges was establishing common rules for the game, "which has been spreading from below, from prison to the street and from the street into neighborhoods,” said the 37-year-old Rulleri, who learned to play while incarcerated in the State of Mexico, outside the capital.

After his release, he struggled to find work, a common problem for those who have been imprisoned.

He launched a taco delivery service alongside his wife, but the business proved unsuccessful, leading him to reluctantly accept a commission to craft a poleana board for an acquaintance. Then came another commission — and he began to post his creations on social media.

“We dumped the taco idea and started making poleanas,” said Rulleri.

The resulting business, Poleana Cana’da Frogs — a name derived from a slang word for prison and a description of the way the pieces hop around the board — has so far organized 55 poleana tournaments in public spaces, emphasizing a family-friendly atmosphere and explicitly excluding betting, a practice common in other poleana events.

“We want to remove the game’s stigma, that it was a game for prisoners or slackers,” Rulleri said.

In the 1980s, the game began to spread beyond the prisons and found purchase in many of Mexico City’s rougher neighborhoods.

Tepito — the capital’s cradle of street commerce and boxing — is one of the neighborhoods where people can almost always be found playing poleana. At a handball court where men of all ages smack a ball against a wall, others on the sidelines play poleana late into the evening.

Fernando Rojas, 57, learned poleana when he was 18, but it was in prison where he honed his talents. The games, which can last for hours, in prison happen back-to-back.

“It really helps you escape the reality of being a prisoner and that’s how it started,” Rojas said. “No one can understand what it’s like to be a prisoner … you don’t see the end of your sentence. There are people who have to do drugs as their way to escape. Poleana is very important in prison.”

Now the game serves as Rojas’ therapy: a way to relieve stress and avoid family conflict. He carries his dice and pieces in a small plastic bag, religiously joining his friends at the handball court to play.

“We all have problems, in prison and in the street,” he said. “So a lot of people come here for a distraction.”

In Poleana, plays and number combinations have names. For example, a roll of six is a “six pack,” because that’s what it looks like when seen from above. Rolling doubles prompts celebratory shouts of “pares y no pares," a play on Spanish words for pairs and not stopping. With luck, you could get a piece three-quarters of the way around the board.

While chance plays a role, mathematical calculation is also key.

That’s why Diego González and Dana López are thrilled that their 7-year-old son Kevin is learning to play poleana. He has fun and he’s getting faster with his calculations.

González, 33, also makes poleana boards through his family business, Poleanas Iztapalapa, finding a creative outlet after serving a three-year sentence a decade ago. He crafts personalized boards with details like strobe lights and Bluetooth speakers.

His boards are popular gifts for weddings, birthdays and Christmas. Some special commissions have included requests to include images of deceased loved ones in the sunken area where dice are tossed. Others want playful characters to decorate boards they give to their children.

Sales surged during the COVID-19 pandemic, when people were shut in their homes and found poleana to be a good way to pass the time.

“Two, three hours counting and tossing, and all that was really nice for them,” he said. “They realized it’s not a bad game, it’s a game of strategy and getting the family together.”

Follow AP’s coverage of Latin America and the Caribbean at https://apnews.com/hub/latin-america

Residents play Poleana, a board game invented in prison in Mexico City, Sunday, Dec. 8, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Diego Gonzalez, center, holds a pack of tokens for poleana, a board game invented in prison, alongside designer Carolina Duran, left, and Dana Lopez, his partner, with their son Kevin in the State of Mexico, Mexico, Friday, Oct. 25, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Dana Lopez, right, paints a board for poleana, a board game invented in prison, while her son Kevin plays in their workshop in the State of Mexico, Mexico, Friday, Oct. 25, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Participants play Poleana, a board game invented in prison, during a tournament in Mexico City, Sunday, Nov. 17, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Jonathan Rulleri, the founder of Poleanas Canada Frogs, holds up a poleana board, a game he invented in prison, to be raffled off before the start of a tournament in Mexico City, Sunday, Nov. 17, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

A player moves his piece in poleana, a board game invented in prison, during a tournament in Mexico City, Sunday, Nov. 17, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

From left, Salvador Espinosa, Rosa Espinosa, Diego Castillo, Erik Cisneros and Ulises Tiscareño share a joke while playing poleana, a board game invented in prison in Mexico City, Sunday, Dec. 8, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Residents play poleana, a board game invented in prison, in Mexico City, Sunday, Dec. 8, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

Dana Lopez sands a wooden token for poleana, a board game invented in prison, in his workshop in Mexico State, Mexico, Friday, Oct. 25, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)

People play poleana, a board game invented in prison, before a tournament in Mexico City, Sunday, Nov. 17, 2024. (AP Photo/Ginnette Riquelme)