Latest news with #Slavik
The Guardian
05-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Hamlet Syndrome review – soldiers turn to Shakespeare as Ukrainians deal with the war
What is the use of art in time of war? Shot a few months prior to Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Elwira Niewiera and Piotr Rosołowski's documentary probes this thorny question with a searing intimacy. The film observes an alternative production of Hamlet, which brings together a group of Ukrainian performers from all walks of life and as volatile emotions are spilled on to the stage, performance becomes a conduit for personal catharsis as well as artistic expression. In the film, scenes of the rehearsal process are interspersed with revelations about the actors' backgrounds. Many of them are soldiers on the frontline: Slavik and Katia, for example, have endured the bloodshed of combat as well as the horrors of captivity. Roman, a trained actor, was thrust on to the battlefield as a medic, a responsibility for which he was both professionally and emotionally ill-equipped. As the actors battle inner demons, the stage transforms into a common ground for understanding. Hailing from a conservative region of the country, Slavik admits to having his preconceptions erased through meeting Rodion, who proudly incorporates his traumatic experience as a queer person into his performance. The rigid parameters of national pride are also up for debate, as Oksana, a feminist actor, raises important inquiries about the place of women in Ukrainian society. These differences of opinions are processed not just through heated arguments, but also via the medium of dramaturgy. By emphasising the collaborative process of performance, the film stresses that unity must be achieved through holistic dialogue rather than an autocratic consolidation of ideas. The documentary's postscript feels even more shattering in this regard: with most of the cast called up for military conscription, opportunities for creative experiments like this are already a thing of the past. The Hamlet Syndrome is on True Story from 9 May
Yahoo
28-04-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
How Armenia is trying to build a Silicon Valley in the Caucasus
In Armenia tech education starts early. In a typical three-storey state school in the suburbs of Yerevan, the Armenian capital, nine-year old Slavik is demonstrating his invention - a box with three LED lights. "He has learned how to control it, and the programming language. You can see the code is written by him," says Maria, the 21-year-old tech coach leading the class. Next to them, 14-year-old Eric and Narek are showing their smart greenhouse model that monitors temperature and controls fans automatically through a mobile app. Other children are enthusiastically showcasing their inventions: games, robots, apps and smart home projects. Eleven-year-old Arakel is holding his cardboard model of a house with a retractable clothesline. "I have made my mother's work easy, one part of the device is set on the roof, and another is a motor," he says. "When it rains the line goes under the roof to keep the clothes dry." Armenia country profile These young inventors have been attending engineering lab classes where they learn programming, robotics, coding, 3D modelling and more. The programme started in 2014, and is called Armath, which translates into English as "root". Today there are 650 Armath labs in schools across Armenia. The initiative was established by a business organisation called the Union of Advanced Technology Enterprises (UATE), which represents more than 200 high-tech Armenian companies. "The vision is that we want to see Armenia becoming a tech centre powerhouse that delivers utmost values to Armenia and to the world," says Sarkis Karapetyan, the chief executive of UATE. In his spacious, open-plan office in Yerevan he says that there are now around 4,000 tech companies in Armenia. Armath is part of the UATE's education and workforce development programme. Mr Karapetyan says the programme is the most successful public-private partnership in the country. "We raise capital expenditure from the private sector, we go to the schools and establish Armath labs, we donate the equipment," he says. "And the government, the education ministry gives us a budget of $2m (£1.5m) annually to pay the salaries of the coaches." There are now more than 600 coaches, and 17,000 active students. "The goal is to have 5,000 of the most talented kids decide to become engineers every year," says Mr Karapetyan. Armenia is a landlocked country of 2.7 million people, the smallest in the South Caucasus region, and its borders with neighbouring Azerbaijan and Turkey have been shut for decades due to unresolved territorial disputes. Unlike its neighbours, Armenia does not have natural resources or access to the sea. But throughout the Soviet era it had been a centre of mathematics and computer science. In 1956 the Yerevan Scientific Research Institute of Mathematical Machines was established in Armenia and by 1960 it had developed two first generation computers. Today, the country is tapping into its legacy with the ambition to transform itself into the tech powerhouse of the Caucasus. And there has been some success already. Picsart, a AI-powered photo and video editing website and app, was launched in Armenia in 2011. Today the company of the same name, which has dual headquarters in Yerevan and Miami, is valued at $1.5bn. Krisp, which makes audio-processing software, and Service Titan, which provides business software, are other Armenian success stories. Meanwhile, an annual report says that Armenia is the best country in the Caucuses region in which to launch a company, putting it in 57th place globally. This compares with Georgia in 70th position, and Azerbaijan in 80th. A critical factor in boosting Armenia's tech development is the nation's global diaspora – some 75% of the world's estimated Armenians, and people of Armenian descent, live elsewhere. This worldwide community provides important connections, especially in the US tech industry. In the US there are as many as 1.6 million people of Armenian ancestry, centred on California. Samvel Khachikyan, is director of programs at SmartGate, a venture capital firm based in both California and Armenia that focuses on tech investments. He says that if you look at the top 500 companies in the US, "for sure you'll find at least one or two Armenians" in the boardroom or one management level below. Mr Khachikyan explains how his company helps Armenian entrepreneurs set up operations in the US. "Imagine an Armenian start-up, two young people deciding to go to the US to try to operate there, they have no connections, no knowledge about the culture how it works. "It's gonna be hard, very hard. We are helping them, it's like the launch of the rocket, the first couple of seconds is the hardest." SmartGate takes Armenian founders to Silicon Valley and Los Angeles for intensive networking with top US companies and investors. But many Armenian start-ups first test their products in their home market. Irina Ghazaryan, is the founder of an app called Dr Yan that is changing how Armenians access healthcare by enabling them to more easily book appointments with doctors. Ms Ghazaryan was previously working in product and web design when, helped by the fact she comes from a family of doctors, she identified a gap in the market. "Patients couldn't find the right doctors, and doctors were suffering from endless calls." The app operates on a subscription model, with doctors paying to be listed on the platform, and there are plans to expand. "We are growing at least 25% revenue month by month," adds Ms Ghazaryan. "We are almost break-even in Armenia and that gives us strength to start expanding to other markets, like Uzbekistan." Armenia's tech ecosystem received an unexpected boost in 2022 following Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Thousands of Russian IT specialists left their country, and many chose to settle in Armenia. Meanwhile, US chipmaking giant Nvidia moved its Russian office to Armenia. Vasily is a Russian IT consultant who relocated to Armenia in 2023. "Armenia was the most friendly to people from Russia in order to help them move, adapt and so on," he says. He estimates that that the Russian IT community in Armenia now totals 5,000 to 8,000 people. This influx has said to have filled crucial skill gaps in Armenia's tech sector, in areas such as data processing, cybersecurity, and financial technologies. Yet Vasily says that Armenia can be expensive and the country needs to reduce the tax burden on IT firms if it wants them to stay in the country. However, overall optimism remains high about Armenia's tech future. Samvel Khachikyan expects the sector to boom. He points to Service Titan, which floated on the New York Stock Exchange last December, and is now worth more than $10bn. The record-breaking tunnel being built from Denmark to Germany Firms say Meta not helping them to recover hacked accounts Was China the reason Guyana faced higher Trump tariff? The plans to put data centres in orbit and on the Moon
BBC News
27-04-2025
- Business
- BBC News
How Armenia is trying to build a Silicon Valley in the Caucasus
In Armenia tech education starts a typical three-storey state school in the suburbs of Yerevan, the Armenian capital, nine-year old Slavik is demonstrating his invention - a box with three LED lights."He has learned how to control it, and the programming language. You can see the code is written by him," says Maria, the 21-year-old tech coach leading the to them, 14-year-old Eric and Narek are showing their smart greenhouse model that monitors temperature and controls fans automatically through a mobile children are enthusiastically showcasing their inventions: games, robots, apps and smart home Arakel is holding his cardboard model of a house with a retractable clothesline."I have made my mother's work easy, one part of the device is set on the roof, and another is a motor," he says. "When it rains the line goes under the roof to keep the clothes dry." These young inventors have been attending engineering lab classes where they learn programming, robotics, coding, 3D modelling and programme started in 2014, and is called Armath, which translates into English as "root". Today there are 650 Armath labs in schools across initiative was established by a business organisation called the Union of Advanced Technology Enterprises (UATE), which represents more than 200 high-tech Armenian companies."The vision is that we want to see Armenia becoming a tech centre powerhouse that delivers utmost values to Armenia and to the world," says Sarkis Karapetyan, the chief executive of his spacious, open-plan office in Yerevan he says that there are now around 4,000 tech companies in Armenia. Armath is part of the UATE's education and workforce development programme. Mr Karapetyan says the programme is the most successful public-private partnership in the country."We raise capital expenditure from the private sector, we go to the schools and establish Armath labs, we donate the equipment," he says. "And the government, the education ministry gives us a budget of $2m (£1.5m) annually to pay the salaries of the coaches."There are now more than 600 coaches, and 17,000 active students."The goal is to have 5,000 of the most talented kids decide to become engineers every year," says Mr Karapetyan. Armenia is a landlocked country of 2.7 million people, the smallest in the South Caucasus region, and its borders with neighbouring Azerbaijan and Turkey have been shut for decades due to unresolved territorial its neighbours, Armenia does not have natural resources or access to the sea. But throughout the Soviet era it had been a centre of mathematics and computer 1956 the Yerevan Scientific Research Institute of Mathematical Machines was established in Armenia and by 1960 it had developed two first generation the country is tapping into its legacy with the ambition to transform itself into the tech powerhouse of the there has been some success already. Picsart, a AI-powered photo and video editing website and app, was launched in Armenia in 2011. Today the company of the same name, which has dual headquarters in Yerevan and Miami, is valued at $ which makes audio-processing software, and Service Titan, which provides business software, are other Armenian success an annual report says that Armenia is the best country in the Caucuses region in which to launch a company, putting it in 57th place globally. This compares with Georgia in 70th position, and Azerbaijan in 80th. A critical factor in boosting Armenia's tech development is the nation's global diaspora – some 75% of the world's estimated Armenians, and people of Armenian descent, live worldwide community provides important connections, especially in the US tech industry. In the US there are as many as 1.6 million people of Armenian ancestry, centred on Khachikyan, is director of programs at SmartGate, a venture capital firm based in both California and Armenia that focuses on tech says that if you look at the top 500 companies in the US, "for sure you'll find at least one or two Armenians" in the boardroom or one management level Khachikyan explains how his company helps Armenian entrepreneurs set up operations in the US."Imagine an Armenian start-up, two young people deciding to go to the US to try to operate there, they have no connections, no knowledge about the culture how it works."It's gonna be hard, very hard. We are helping them, it's like the launch of the rocket, the first couple of seconds is the hardest."SmartGate takes Armenian founders to Silicon Valley and Los Angeles for intensive networking with top US companies and investors. But many Armenian start-ups first test their products in their home Ghazaryan, is the founder of an app called Dr Yan that is changing how Armenians access healthcare by enabling them to more easily book appointments with Ghazaryan was previously working in product and web design when, helped by the fact she comes from a family of doctors, she identified a gap in the market. "Patients couldn't find the right doctors, and doctors were suffering from endless calls."The app operates on a subscription model, with doctors paying to be listed on the platform, and there are plans to expand."We are growing at least 25% revenue month by month," adds Ms Ghazaryan. "We are almost break-even in Armenia and that gives us strength to start expanding to other markets, like Uzbekistan." Armenia's tech ecosystem received an unexpected boost in 2022 following Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Thousands of Russian IT specialists left their country, and many chose to settle in US chipmaking giant Nvidia moved its Russian office to is a Russian IT consultant who relocated to Armenia in 2023. "Armenia was the most friendly to people from Russia in order to help them move, adapt and so on," he estimates that that the Russian IT community in Armenia now totals 5,000 to 8,000 people. This influx has said to have filled crucial skill gaps in Armenia's tech sector, in areas such as data processing, cybersecurity, and financial Vasily says that Armenia can be expensive and the country needs to reduce the tax burden on IT firms if it wants them to stay in the overall optimism remains high about Armenia's tech future. Samvel Khachikyan expects the sector to boom. He points to Service Titan, which floated on the New York Stock Exchange last December, and is now worth more than $10bn.
Yahoo
07-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
With hopes for asylum in U.S. dashed, migrants in Tijuana ponder next moves
When the Russian man arrived at the U.S.-Mexico border on March 1, he knew he was too late. Still, he held on to hope that even with President Trump in office he could be let into the United States to seek asylum. Slavik, a 37-year-old engineer, said he fled Russia after being beaten by security forces for supporting the opposing political party. He had hoped to meet U.S. immigration officials to apply for asylum, he said, and has friends willing to sponsor him. Instead, he spent weeks at a shelter for migrants in Tijuana as he mulled over what to do next. 'I just tried to do by rules and wait,' said Slavik, who asked to be identified by his nickname for fear of retribution. 'There is nothing else now. All immigration will be illegally.' In Tijuana, thousands of migrants such as Slavik had tried to secure an appointment with immigration officials through a Biden administration phone application, but Trump canceled the program, in effect blocking access to asylum. Many have since left the region. With no way to legally enter the U.S., the mood among migrants still in Tijuana has shifted from cautious optimism to hopelessness. Shelters are no longer full, and directors say those who remain are among the most vulnerable. Read more: California-Mexico border, once overwhelmed, now nearly empty Making matters worse, funding cuts by the Trump administration to the U.S. Agency for International Development, or USAID, have brought some shelters to the brink of closure, tightened others' budgets and significantly reduced migrant healthcare services. Enduring organizations now struggle to fill the gaps. 'As lawyers, we want to give people solutions, but there are none now,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, co-founder and chief executive of the Los Angeles-based Immigrant Defenders Law Center. She visits Tijuana shelters a few times a month. 'It's them asking a lot of questions and us saying, 'I'm so sorry.'' Although illegal border crossings are down to a trickle, Toczylowski and other advocates believe they will eventually begin to increase. Slavik fled his homeland in 2022, first living in Turkey and Georgia before realizing that, as Russian allies, those countries weren't safe. He can't go back to Russia, where he would be considered a terrorist sponsor for donating to the campaign of Alexei Navalny, President Vladimir Putin's biggest political rival, who died under suspicious circumstances last year. But staying in Mexico or elsewhere in Latin America would be difficult, Slavik said, because he doesn't speak Spanish. He speaks basic English and has considered going to Canada, but friends told him it's difficult as well to obtain asylum there. Now Slavik is starting to feel like he has no other choice but to try to get into the U.S. illegally. 'Maybe this is one chance,' he said. 'If a lot of people do it, then maybe I can do it.' Slavik stayed at Albergue Assabil, a shelter that serves mostly Muslim migrants. Director Angie Magaña said half of the 130 people living there before the U.S. presidential election in the fall have since left. Many went back to their home countries — including Russia, Haiti, Congo, Tajikistan and Afghanistan — despite the dangers they could face. Others went to Panama, she said. On a recent Friday, the shelter was bustling. Haircuts were being offered in the courtyard. A truck pulled up outside, and residents helped carry in cases of donated bottled water. Inside the community center, those having breakfast and tea cleared the tables as members of a humanitarian organization arrived to play games with the children. Magaña said she's frank with those who remain: 'Most people have the hope that something will happen. I tell them their best bet is to get asylum here' in Mexico. Toczylowski said this administration differs substantially from Trump's first term, when she could seek humanitarian entry for particularly desperate cases, such as a woman fleeing a dangerous relationship. Now whenever a woman says her abuser has found her and she asks Toczylowski what she can do, 'it's the first time in my career that we can say, 'There's no option that exists for you.'' In the weeks after the phone app for border appointments was eliminated, Toczylowski brought vulnerable families, including those with children who have disabilities, to the San Ysidro port of entry. She said a Border Patrol agent told them there was no process to seek asylum and turned them away. The U.S. military has added layers of concertina wire to six miles of the border fence near San Ysidro. 'Ideally, it deters them from crossing' illegally, said Jeffrey Stalnaker, acting chief patrol agent of the Border Patrol's San Diego sector. 'We would rather have them enter at a port of entry, where it's much safer, and hopefully this guides them in that direction.' He did not address the fact that the government has essentially stopped considering asylum requests at ports of entry. Toczylowski said that in her experience, limited exceptions have been made for unaccompanied children. The halting of USAID funds is also transforming life at the border. On his first day in office, Jan. 20, Trump signed an executive order freezing U.S. foreign aid payments for 90 days, pending a review of efficiency and alignment with foreign policy. The order says foreign aid is 'not aligned with American interests and in many cases antithetical to American values.' An April 3 report by the nonpartisan Migration Policy Institute found that up to $2.3 billion in migration-related grants appear on leaked lists shared with Congress of terminated foreign aid from USAID and the State Department. Among the funding — which provided humanitarian assistance, countered human trafficking and enabled refugee resettlement — was $200 million focused specifically on deterring migration from Central America. The fallout from the cuts has already begun, the report states. For instance, the government of Ecuador used the withdrawal of foreign aid to justify rescinding amnesty for Venezuelan migrants, which could have dissuaded some from continuing north toward the United States. In Tijuana, Trump's order led to the closure of a health and social services clinic called Comunidad AVES. A longtime shelter called Casa del Migrante is now on the brink of closure after USAID-funded organizations scaled back their support, leaving its leaders on a desperate search for replacement funding. Midwife Ximena Rojas and her team of two doulas run a birthing center and offer sexual and reproductive care to migrants. Rojas sees 20 patients a day, three days a week. Her services are crucial: Many of the women she sees have never had a Pap smear and some were sexually assaulted on the migration route. With the closure of AVES and concerns about Casa del Migrante — which has a partnership with the Tijuana government for weekly doctor visits — Rojas said the pressure is mounting on her small operation to somehow expand its reach. 'We are at max capacity,' she said. 'We need an army.' Rojas said she's considering opening a food bank for migrants to make up for the loss of U.S.-government supported assistance. 'Our goal is to diminish infant death, also maternal death. The best way to do it is with nutrition,' Rojas said. 'I give them a prenatal vitamin every day, but if they are eating [only] a banana a day, it's like, a vitamin can only do so much.' Many shelters counted on funds from the International Organization for Migration for groceries. At Espacio Migrante, the money paid for imported ingredients that allowed families from countries such as Russia and Uzbekistan to cook religiously or culturally appropriate meals. At La Casita de Union Trans, a shelter for transgender women, the 6,000 pesos the facility got each month (about $300) went toward basic necessities — eggs, cooking oil and milk. But director Susy Barrales said U.S. politics won't stop trans women from seeking safety, or the shelter trying to support them. "I want the girls to study, to obtain a profession, so they can confront anything that comes their way — because I've done it," said Barrales, who is studying for a social work license. "We are going to keep striving." Shelter residents include Miranda Torres, 31, a hairstylist who fled Venezuela in July after she was raped by strangers and police refused to investigate. She said the assault infected her with HIV. Venezuela's ongoing economic collapse meant she had no access to treatment. Torres said she walked north through the Darien Gap, a dangerous 60-mile stretch of jungle that straddles the border dividing Colombia and Panama, where she was sexually assaulted again. In Oaxaca, Mexico, she was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer and went through surgery and chemotherapy. She now bears a round scar on her neck and covers her bald head with a wig. After taking time to recover, Torres finally arrived in Tijuana in December, where she slept atop a cardboard box on the street while making repeated and increasingly dangerous attempts to enter the U.S. Unable to secure an appointment through the phone app, she went to the San Ysidro port of entry, waiting outside for four days to speak with an agent. She was turned away and then detained by Mexican immigration officials before being released because of her health conditions. Torres said men belonging to a criminal group began to target her, saying they would harm her if she didn't cross the border. So she attempted to climb the border fence but was too weak to hoist herself up. Then they told her to swim around the fence that extends into the Pacific Ocean. She nearly drowned. Now, Torres has given up on the U.S. and is applying for asylum in Mexico. 'My dreams are in my head, not in any particular country,' she said, seated on a bunk bed in one of La Casita's two bedrooms while Chappell Roan's hit "Pink Pony Club" played from someone's phone in the living room. 'If they're not possible in the U.S., I'll make them happen here.' Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
07-04-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
With hopes for asylum in U.S. dashed, migrants in Tijuana ponder next moves
TIJUANA — When the Russian man arrived at the U.S.-Mexico border on March 1, he knew he was too late. Still, he held on to hope that even with President Trump in office he could be let into the United States to seek asylum. Slavik, a 37-year-old engineer, said he fled Russia after being beaten by security forces for supporting the opposing political party. He had hoped to meet U.S. immigration officials to apply for asylum, he said, and has friends willing to sponsor him. Instead, he spent weeks at a shelter for migrants in Tijuana as he mulled over what to do next. 'I just tried to do by rules and wait,' said Slavik, who asked to be identified by his nickname for fear of retribution. 'There is nothing else now. All immigration will be illegally.' In Tijuana, thousands of migrants such as Slavik had tried to secure an appointment with immigration officials through a Biden administration phone application, but Trump canceled the program, in effect blocking access to asylum. Many have since left the region. With no way to legally enter the U.S., the mood among migrants still in Tijuana has shifted from cautious optimism to hopelessness. Shelters are no longer full, and directors say those who remain are among the most vulnerable. Making matters worse, funding cuts by the Trump administration to the U.S. Agency for International Development, or USAID, have brought some shelters to the brink of closure, tightened others' budgets and significantly reduced migrant healthcare services. Enduring organizations now struggle to fill the gaps. 'As lawyers, we want to give people solutions, but there are none now,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, co-founder and chief executive of the Los Angeles-based Immigrant Defenders Law Center. She visits Tijuana shelters a few times a month. 'It's them asking a lot of questions and us saying, 'I'm so sorry.'' Although illegal border crossings are down to a trickle, Toczylowski and other advocates believe they will eventually begin to increase. Slavik fled his homeland in 2022, first living in Turkey and Georgia before realizing that, as Russian allies, those countries weren't safe. He can't go back to Russia, where he would be considered a terrorist sponsor for donating to the campaign of Alexei Navalny, President Vladimir Putin's biggest political rival, who died under suspicious circumstances last year. But staying in Mexico or elsewhere in Latin America would be difficult, Slavik said, because he doesn't speak Spanish. He speaks basic English and has considered going to Canada, but friends told him it's difficult as well to obtain asylum there. Now Slavik is starting to feel like he has no other choice but to try to get into the U.S. illegally. 'Maybe this is one chance,' he said. 'If a lot of people do it, then maybe I can do it.' Slavik stayed at Albergue Assabil, a shelter that serves mostly Muslim migrants. Director Angie Magaña said half of the 130 people living there before the U.S. presidential election in the fall have since left. Many went back to their home countries — including Russia, Haiti, Congo, Tajikistan and Afghanistan — despite the dangers they could face. Others went to Panama, she said. On a recent Friday, the shelter was bustling. Haircuts were being offered in the courtyard. A truck pulled up outside, and residents helped carry in cases of donated bottled water. Inside the community center, those having breakfast and tea cleared the tables as members of a humanitarian organization arrived to play games with the children. Magaña said she's frank with those who remain: 'Most people have the hope that something will happen. I tell them their best bet is to get asylum here' in Mexico. Toczylowski said this administration differs substantially from Trump's first term, when she could seek humanitarian entry for particularly desperate cases, such as a woman fleeing a dangerous relationship. Now whenever a woman says her abuser has found her and she asks Toczylowski what she can do, 'it's the first time in my career that we can say, 'There's no option that exists for you.'' In the weeks after the phone app for border appointments was eliminated, Toczylowski brought vulnerable families, including those with children who have disabilities, to the San Ysidro port of entry. She said a Border Patrol agent told them there was no process to seek asylum and turned them away. The U.S. military has added layers of concertina wire to six miles of the border fence near San Ysidro. 'Ideally, it deters them from crossing' illegally, said Jeffrey Stalnaker, acting chief patrol agent of the Border Patrol's San Diego sector. 'We would rather have them enter at a port of entry, where it's much safer, and hopefully this guides them in that direction.' He did not address the fact that the government has essentially stopped considering asylum requests at ports of entry. Toczylowski said that in her experience, limited exceptions have been made for unaccompanied children. The halting of USAID funds is also transforming life at the border. On his first day in office, Jan. 20, Trump signed an executive order freezing U.S. foreign aid payments for 90 days, pending a review of efficiency and alignment with foreign policy. The order says foreign aid is 'not aligned with American interests and in many cases antithetical to American values.' An April 3 report by the nonpartisan Migration Policy Institute found that up to $2.3 billion in migration-related grants appear on leaked lists shared with Congress of terminated foreign aid from USAID and the State Department. Among the funding — which provided humanitarian assistance, countered human trafficking and enabled refugee resettlement — was $200 million focused specifically on deterring migration from Central America. The fallout from the cuts has already begun, the report states. For instance, the government of Ecuador used the withdrawal of foreign aid to justify rescinding amnesty for Venezuelan migrants, which could have dissuaded some from continuing north toward the United States. In Tijuana, Trump's order led to the closure of a health and social services clinic called Comunidad AVES. A longtime shelter called Casa del Migrante is now on the brink of closure after USAID-funded organizations scaled back their support, leaving its leaders on a desperate search for replacement funding. Midwife Ximena Rojas and her team of two doulas run a birthing center and offer sexual and reproductive care to migrants. Rojas sees 20 patients a day, three days a week. Her services are crucial: Many of the women she sees have never had a Pap smear and some were sexually assaulted on the migration route. With the closure of AVES and concerns about Casa del Migrante — which has a partnership with the Tijuana government for weekly doctor visits — Rojas said the pressure is mounting on her small operation to somehow expand its reach. 'We are at max capacity,' she said. 'We need an army.' Rojas said she's considering opening a food bank for migrants to make up for the loss of U.S.-government supported assistance. 'Our goal is to diminish infant death, also maternal death. The best way to do it is with nutrition,' Rojas said. 'I give them a prenatal vitamin every day, but if they are eating [only] a banana a day, it's like, a vitamin can only do so much.' Many shelters counted on funds from the International Organization for Migration for groceries. At Espacio Migrante, the money paid for imported ingredients that allowed families from countries such as Russia and Uzbekistan to cook religiously or culturally appropriate meals. At La Casita de Union Trans, a shelter for transgender women, the 6,000 pesos the facility got each month (about $300) went toward basic necessities — eggs, cooking oil and milk. But director Susy Barrales said U.S. politics won't stop trans women from seeking safety, or the shelter trying to support them. 'I want the girls to study, to obtain a profession, so they can confront anything that comes their way — because I've done it,' said Barrales, who is studying for a social work license. 'We are going to keep striving.' Shelter residents include Miranda Torres, 31, a hairstylist who fled Venezuela in July after she was raped by strangers and police refused to investigate. She said the assault infected her with HIV. Venezuela's ongoing economic collapse meant she had no access to treatment. Torres said she walked north through the Darien Gap, a dangerous 60-mile stretch of jungle that straddles the border dividing Colombia and Panama, where she was sexually assaulted again. In Oaxaca, Mexico, she was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer and went through surgery and chemotherapy. She now bears a round scar on her neck and covers her bald head with a wig. After taking time to recover, Torres finally arrived in Tijuana in December, where she slept atop a cardboard box on the street while making repeated and increasingly dangerous attempts to enter the U.S. Unable to secure an appointment through the phone app, she went to the San Ysidro port of entry, waiting outside for four days to speak with an agent. She was turned away and then detained by Mexican immigration officials before being released because of her health conditions. Torres said men belonging to a criminal group began to target her, saying they would harm her if she didn't cross the border. So she attempted to climb the border fence but was too weak to hoist herself up. Then they told her to swim around the fence that extends into the Pacific Ocean. She nearly drowned. Now, Torres has given up on the U.S. and is applying for asylum in Mexico. 'My dreams are in my head, not in any particular country,' she said, seated on a bunk bed in one of La Casita's two bedrooms while Chappell Roan's hit 'Pink Pony Club' played from someone's phone in the living room. 'If they're not possible in the U.S., I'll make them happen here.'
