The changing climate is reshaping migration from Honduras. Drought and erratic rainfall are undermining agriculture, pushing young people to migrate in search of a more secure future.
Since the start of 2021, U.S. immigration authorities have encountered more migrants from Honduras at the southern U.S. border than any country except Mexico, and climate change is one reason why.
That's apparent in the sudden devastation caused by two hurricanes that struck the country in late 2020, and also in the slow-moving catastrophe of erratic rainfall and drought that are undermining agriculture — a major blow for a country that historically relies on farming for subsistence.
NPR talked to dozens of Hondurans in rural towns and villages who told us that changing climate is making it harder to survive. It's adding one more pressure to the complicated decision about whether to migrate in search of a better life in the U.S.
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Transcript
LEILA FADEL, HOST:
This summer, it's been hot - really hot. In fact, it's expected to be the planet's hottest month on record, and it's another sign of climate change. The crisis is hurting agriculture in many parts of the world. And in Honduras, it's pushing young people to migrate in search of a more secure future. Here's NPR's Joel Rose with the first story in a series we're calling Uprooted.
(SOUNDBITE OF VEHICLE ON DIRT ROAD)
JOEL ROSE, BYLINE: To get to the town of Lagunas La Iguala, you have to drive on miles of dirt road up and down steep muddy slopes in the mountains of western Honduras. We're here to meet a family that has seen the devastating effects of climate change up close.
ANABEL PEREZ: (Through interpreter) Yes, climate change has affected us.
ROSE: Anabel Perez's family owns a small coffee farm. She says it was struck by landslides in late 2020, when the country was pummeled by back-to-back hurricanes fueled, in part, by warming oceans. For Perez, the memories are still raw. Her eyes fill with tears as we sit and talk on her front porch.
A PEREZ: (Through interpreter) The hurricanes lashed out. We flooded here. We lost our crop, and the farm was damaged.
ROSE: Those storms caused catastrophic flooding across Honduras. But extreme weather events are only one way that climate change has hurt agriculture here. There's also the slow-moving catastrophe of erratic rainfall and drought.
ROBERTO PEREZ: (Through interpreter) It's really hard to predict the weather now.
ROSE: Roberto Perez is Annabel's husband. He's 64, wearing a cream-colored cowboy hat. He says he feels naked without it. Perez feels deeply rooted to this land where he learned to farm from his parents following the predictable rhythm of rainy and dry seasons. But Perez says he doesn't recognize the weather today.
R PEREZ: (Through interpreter) It's uncertain. When you expect winter, summer sets in and the other way around. It really affects the crops.
ROSE: All of this is weighing heavily on the family's youngest son. Francis Perez is a skinny 19-year-old with a light mustache who also grew up picking coffee on the family's farm. Francis Perez still loves working the land, but he worries that he won't be able to support himself in farming like his parents did. So he's thinking about following hundreds of thousands of other Hondurans and migrating to the U.S.
FRANCIS PEREZ: (Through interpreter) I feel that I'm stuck. I don't feel that I can build the future I want here.
ROSE: Since the beginning of 2021, U.S. immigration authorities have encountered more migrants from Honduras at the southern border than any country except Mexico. Some of the reasons are familiar - violence, corruption, a lack of economic opportunity exacerbated by the pandemic. Now climate change is adding one more pressure to the list.
JOSUE LEON: (Through interpreter) Extremes are becoming more extreme. The dry season is becoming longer, and the rainy season keeps shrinking, and the rains are more torrential.
ROSE: Josue Leon is a climate scientist at Zamorano University in Honduras. He says a lot of young people don't see a future in agriculture anymore.
LEON: (Through interpreter) When farming becomes too risky and you lose more than you invest, agriculture is no longer attractive for young people. There isn't much available to them, and the only other option is to migrate.
(SOUNDBITE OF CHICKEN CLUCKING)
ROSE: The Perez family has done its best to rebuild after the hurricanes. Chickens and parrots squawk in the yard outside their one-story house. It's solidly built with lime-green cinderblock walls and tiled floors.
A PEREZ: (Through interpreter) We began with one small room. We've lived here for 30 years, since we got married, and we've been adding to it.
ROSE: The family is trying to build new businesses as well so they won't have to rely completely on the coffee farm.
(SOUNDBITE OF PIG GRUNTING)
ROSE: There's a pig they're raising for slaughter and a tilapia pond where they're farming fish to sell. But Francis Perez says it's hard to save money.
F PEREZ: (Through interpreter) Here, you work to cover your daily needs. We don't have capital for an emergency.
ROSE: There's another big factor here - the pull of the U.S. Migrants are an essential economic engine in Honduras. Remittances make up more than a quarter of the country's GDP, the highest rate in the Western Hemisphere. You can see that clearly right in Francis Perez's town in the big brightly painted homes with Spanish-style roofs built with dollars sent back from the North.
F PEREZ: (Through interpreter) The nice homes near the church - all the children are working in the U.S. Our next-door neighbor's son is also in the U.S. Practically every household around here has someone working in the U.S.
ROSE: Perez has been talking to a family friend in Houston who says he can help Perez get on his feet and find a job. He could save money and send some back to help his family. His father, Roberto Perez, knows that, too.
R PEREZ: (Through interpreter) When you hear about how much you can earn and the strength of the dollar versus the lempira, even you want to go. But it's not easy.
ROSE: The family knows that the journey is dangerous and expensive. Francis's mother, Anabel Perez, is struggling with his plan to migrate. She wants him to be happy and successful, but they'll have to borrow thousands of dollars to pay for a smuggler, and that is still no guarantee of a safe journey.
A PEREZ: (Through interpreter) He started talking about migrating since he was 16. We were saying, no. The journey is difficult. We don't have money for that. We have managed to keep him here and fearful. Now he's determined.
ROSE: Francis Perez did well in school. He finished high school and had a decent job in Honduras doing health care outreach for a nonprofit. But he quit in December to start planning his trip to the U.S. Francis' former boss says he wasn't surprised. Patrocinio Sarmiento is a doctor in rural Honduras who's met a lot of young people in the same position.
PATROCINIO SARMIENTO: (Through interpreter) His salary is small. He doesn't make enough to invest in his land. He would need a big investment to stay in agriculture, and you can only get it if he migrates.
ROSE: When we talked to Francis Perez earlier this year, that was his plan - to save money in the U.S. and invest it in his family's land to help adapt to climate change. But when we called him again a few weeks ago, Perez sounded more conflicted. His parents are getting older, and he's worried about stressing them out.
F PEREZ: (Through interpreter) It's a very difficult decision. That's the truth, especially because I'm planning on migrating to help my parents. I think and ponder about it constantly.
ROSE: The decision to migrate is rarely easy, but for the Perez family and countless others, the changing climate makes it even harder. Joel Rose, NPR News, Lagunas La Iguala, Honduras.
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FADEL: NPR's Marisa Peñaloza produced this report.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC) Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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