Nearly 300 migrants, mostly deported from the United States, are stuck in Panama's Decapolis Hotel, unable to leave or seek legal assistance. Their desperate circumstances, captured through pleas for help and hidden messages, shed light on the dire situation of those fleeing oppressive regimes and seeking asylum.
Migrants Trapped in Panama's Decapolis Hotel: A Plea for Help
Migrants Trapped in Panama's Decapolis Hotel: A Plea for Help
In Panama City, around 300 migrants, including families and individuals from various countries, feel imprisoned in a hotel following their deportation by the U.S., facing a dire lack of freedom and basic support.
In a stark image of desperation, individuals huddled around hotel windows at Panama City's Decapolis Hotel are a haunting representation of the plight faced by approximately 300 migrants. Deported by the United States, these individuals come from various regions—including Iran, Cameroon, India, Afghanistan, and China—and find themselves trapped in a facility they cannot leave.
Among them are two women from Cameroon and families of Iranian converts to Christianity, collectively expressing their fear through handwritten signs and whispered messages. One of the women held up a napkin inscribed with "HELP US," a cry for assistance resonating with many trapped inside the hotel.
As night blankets the hotel, a diverse group of Iranian families gathers in prayer, aware that their situation is perilous—being recognized as religious converts in Iran could lead to severe punishment, even death. While some detainees attempt to maintain a semblance of normalcy by watching television, the oppressive presence of armed guards transforms their stay from a temporary refuge to a prison-like experience.
Citizens and journalists attempt to convey their plight, with secret communications taking place through gestures and makeshift signs. In one such moment, Artemis Ghasemzadeh, a 27-year-old Iranian, boldly wrote “Help” on her window using lipstick—an act of defiance amidst fear.
The migrants, initially hopeful to seek asylum in the U.S., now painfully understand the reality of their circumstances, as many have been rerouted to Panama because their home countries refuse to accept their return. The situation highlights the global refugee crisis, illustrating the harsh realities faced by those hoping for safety and security in a new land.
Among them are two women from Cameroon and families of Iranian converts to Christianity, collectively expressing their fear through handwritten signs and whispered messages. One of the women held up a napkin inscribed with "HELP US," a cry for assistance resonating with many trapped inside the hotel.
As night blankets the hotel, a diverse group of Iranian families gathers in prayer, aware that their situation is perilous—being recognized as religious converts in Iran could lead to severe punishment, even death. While some detainees attempt to maintain a semblance of normalcy by watching television, the oppressive presence of armed guards transforms their stay from a temporary refuge to a prison-like experience.
Citizens and journalists attempt to convey their plight, with secret communications taking place through gestures and makeshift signs. In one such moment, Artemis Ghasemzadeh, a 27-year-old Iranian, boldly wrote “Help” on her window using lipstick—an act of defiance amidst fear.
The migrants, initially hopeful to seek asylum in the U.S., now painfully understand the reality of their circumstances, as many have been rerouted to Panama because their home countries refuse to accept their return. The situation highlights the global refugee crisis, illustrating the harsh realities faced by those hoping for safety and security in a new land.
