Sean T. Hawkey Photography

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  • interviews inside the Maximum Security Prison of Medellin with political prisoners who are leaders of the Ejercito de Liberación Nacional, ELN, a Colombian guerrilla group.
    Colombia_Hawkey_Peace_2016_0347.jpg
  • interviews inside the Maximum Security Prison of Medellin with political prisoners who are leaders of the Ejercito de Liberación Nacional, ELN, a Colombian guerrilla group.
    Colombia_Hawkey_Peace_2016_0312.jpg
  • interviews inside the Maximum Security Prison of Medellin with political prisoners who are leaders of the Ejercito de Liberación Nacional, ELN, a Colombian guerrilla group.
    Colombia_Hawkey_Peace_2016_0297.jpg
  • Gerardo Bermudez, alias 'Francisco Galan', spokesman of the National Liberation Army inside the Itagüi maximum security prison in Medellín, Colombia
    Colombia_Hawkey_Peace_2016_0333.jpg
  • Inside the maximum-security prison in Medellin, Colombia, a leader of the Ejercito de Liberación Nacional, ELN, a Colombian guerrilla group sits in his cell.
    Colombia_Hawkey_Peace_2016_0318.jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Cedillo in Olanchito prison, Honduras. Porfirio has already spent 15 months in prison without trial and is currently in Olanchito Penitenciary in Yoro. Part of a group of residents from Guapinol, he has been imprisoned for protecting the Guapinol from a mining company.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Daniel Márquez has already spent 15 months in prison without trial and is currently in Olanchito Penitenciary in Yoro. Part of a group of residents from Guapinol, he has been imprisoned for protecting the Guapinol from a mining company. Here he is seen speaking to Jessenia Molina, human rights defender with Fundación San Alonso Rodríguez inside the prison.<br />
<br />
José Daniel: "We are victims of injustice, the only crime our families have committed is to struggle against the Los Pinares mining company that is polluting the Guapinol river."<br />
<br />
José Daniel: “Nosotros somos víctimas de la injusticia, el único delito que han cometido nuestros familiares, es luchar contra la empresa minera Los Pinares, que contamina el río Guapinol
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Cedillo in Olanchito prison, Honduras. Porfirio has already spent 15 months in prison without trial and is currently in Olanchito Penitenciary in Yoro. Part of a group of residents from Guapinol, he has been imprisoned for protecting the Guapinol from a mining company.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Ewer Alexander Cedillo and Daniel Márquez in prison in Olancho. <br />
<br />
They have already spent 15 months in prison without trial and are currently in Olanchito Penitenciary in Yoro. From Guapinol, they have protected the Guapinol river from a mining company.<br />
<br />
José Daniel: "We are victims of injustice, the only crime our families have committed is to struggle against the Los Pinares mining company that is polluting the Guapinol river."<br />
<br />
José Daniel: “Nosotros somos víctimas de la injusticia, el único delito que han cometido nuestros familiares, es luchar contra la empresa minera Los Pinares, que contamina el río Guapinol
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Cedillo and Kelvin Alejandro Romero in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Cedillo and Kelvin Alejandro Romero in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Zedillo in Olanchito prison, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Porfirio Sorto Cedillo and Kelvin Alejandro Romero in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Kelvin Alejandro Romero in Olanchito prison, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • José Abelino Cedillo in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • José Abelino Cedillo in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • José Abelino Cedillo in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Arnold Javier Alemán and Orbin Hernández in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • Orbin Hernández in Olanchito prison, Yoro, Honduras.
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_87...jpg
  • A street scene in Intibucá outside the city prison, the graffitti on the wall says "Chepos Asesinos" (The Police are Murderers) and "Berta Vive" (Berta Lives). Berta Cáceres campaigned and organised communities in Intibucá and other areas of Honduras to defend indigenous rights and territories before her assassination.
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190204_67...jpg
  • Geovanny Sierra, journalist with UNETV<br />
<br />
"On 26 November at around 4pm, I began to give live coverage of some protests against the government. The incident occurred at 6:35pm. <br />
<br />
I felt the hit of the bullet, I felt that it went into the bones, but I also felt them go numb, like they went to sleep, a bit like the funny bone in your elbow. I thought that it was just a broken bone, with a bit of rest, I’d soon be back at work.<br />
<br />
I was transmitting live. I wanted my family to know that I was okay. But then someone else else was saying that I’d been hit in the stomach.<br />
<br />
We were around the edge of a commercial centre, a mall, I hid down behind a steep curb, I thought I’d be protected there. But I was hit. The protestors took me to the hospital.<br />
<br />
The bullets came from a bus. COFADEH have testimonies that bullets were shot from the same bus against a protest on the day before.<br />
<br />
The official version of events is that the bus was being used by prison guards, going from the La Granja courts taking three prisoners accused of extortion, to prison. And they allege that the bus was attacked with the intention of liberating the prisoners, so they opened fire.  In first place, the route they would have taken for that journey is a different one, they would have had to take a very different route, breaking all their protocols, and going into an area where there was known to be a protest. The videos show that the bus was not attacked in any way.<br />
<br />
The videos show that there was nothing between me and the bus, and the shots were not what are called persuasive shots, over my head, but directly at me. <br />
<br />
From 2001 until now, 67 journalists, people working for communication, have been killed. But only three have been taken to justice. For most of them there is no process of investigation, the people who have killed our colleagues enjoy complete impunity."
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190130_43...jpg
  • Maya-Chortí Jesus<br />
<br />
Jesús Alberto Ramírez, Sinaí Chimichal, Copán<br />
<br />
"Sinai is a holy place. It’s where Moses got the ten commandments. Chimichal is a tree that grows here. That’s why we called this place Sinaí Chimichal. We’ve been here since 1991, when we organised ourselves into a group. <br />
<br />
We organised ourselves because we’d been enslaved by the landowner. We weren’t allowed to plant food to eat, or to put up a fence around our huts, or to wash clothes in the stream. They just made us work for whatever they wanted to pay us, and they’d treat us very badly.<br />
<br />
Organising ourselves was hard on everyone. My brother, Nicolás Ramírez, was shot in the belly and killed. The rest of us were captured, tied up with rope, and taken to prison in Santa Rosa. After 20 days or so I was let out, but I was captured and sent to prison again. Our friend Rufino was also shot and captured and sent to prison without medical treatment.<br />
<br />
While I was in prison the second time negotiations took place, and eventually we were given about 30 acres to plant food and build huts. And here we are.<br />
<br />
We’ve suffered a lot of poverty here. Most of the families here have lost a child. But since we’ve been able to plant food it’s a lot better and not so many children have died."
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180317_2146.jpg
  • Maya-Chortí Jesus<br />
<br />
Jesús Alberto Ramírez, Sinaí Chimichal, Copán<br />
<br />
"Sinai is a holy place. It’s where Moses got the ten commandments. Chimichal is a tree that grows here. That’s why we called this place Sinaí Chimichal. We’ve been here since 1991, when we organised ourselves into a group. <br />
<br />
We organised ourselves because we’d been enslaved by the landowner. We weren’t allowed to plant food to eat, or to put up a fence around our huts, or to wash clothes in the stream. They just made us work for whatever they wanted to pay us, and they’d treat us very badly.<br />
<br />
Organising ourselves was hard on everyone. My brother, Nicolás Ramírez, was shot in the belly and killed. The rest of us were captured, tied up with rope, and taken to prison in Santa Rosa. After 20 days or so I was let out, but I was captured and sent to prison again. Our friend Rufino was also shot and captured and sent to prison without medical treatment.<br />
<br />
While I was in prison the second time negotiations took place, and eventually we were given about 30 acres to plant food and build huts. And here we are.<br />
<br />
We’ve suffered a lot of poverty here. Most of the families here have lost a child. But since we’ve been able to plant food it’s a lot better and not so many children have died."
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180317_2144.jpg
  • Maya-Chortí Jesus<br />
<br />
Jesús Alberto Ramírez, Sinaí Chimichal, Copán<br />
<br />
"Sinai is a holy place. It’s where Moses got the ten commandments. Chimichal is a tree that grows here. That’s why we called this place Sinaí Chimichal. We’ve been here since 1991, when we organised ourselves into a group. <br />
<br />
We organised ourselves because we’d been enslaved by the landowner. We weren’t allowed to plant food to eat, or to put up a fence around our huts, or to wash clothes in the stream. They just made us work for whatever they wanted to pay us, and they’d treat us very badly.<br />
<br />
Organising ourselves was hard on everyone. My brother, Nicolás Ramírez, was shot in the belly and killed. The rest of us were captured, tied up with rope, and taken to prison in Santa Rosa. After 20 days or so I was let out, but I was captured and sent to prison again. Our friend Rufino was also shot and captured and sent to prison without medical treatment.<br />
<br />
While I was in prison the second time negotiations took place, and eventually we were given about 30 acres to plant food and build huts. And here we are.<br />
<br />
We’ve suffered a lot of poverty here. Most of the families here have lost a child. But since we’ve been able to plant food it’s a lot better and not so many children have died."
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180317_2140.jpg
  • Brenda Paola Molina López, 22, San Pedro Catacamas<br />
<br />
I was in a private university. It was too expensive. I live with my mother, she’s a single mother, we couldn’t afford to carry on with the studies, I couldn’t find a job, there’s a lot of violence here, a lot. So, I decided to go to the US. <br />
<br />
We paid a smuggler, $4,000. <br />
<br />
Saying goodbye to my mum was hard, we’d never been apart before. You know it’s risky, you don’t know if you are going to come back, you are conscious of the risk, of being kidnapped, being raped, being killed. But, there’s nothing here. We don’t all have drinking water, sometimes there’s no water at all. There are people right here who don’t eat three meals a day, who can’t afford to send their kids to school, my neighbour here didn’t send their kids to school last year, couldn’t afford it. If you are lucky to get day work here, as a farm labourer, you might get 100 lempiras a day, maybe 90, depends, and it’s hard work. You can’t do much with 100 Lempiras ($4 USD). <br />
<br />
The truth is that you suffer on the journey, sometimes you walk all night, sometimes there’s not much food, you have to sleep on the floor, and it’s dangerous, you can be kidnapped, killed. They tried to sell one of the young women I was with, to sleep with men, you understand. I lost a lot of weight on the journey, I got really skinny, I didn’t get back to normal until after being in prison.<br />
<br />
I was deported twice, once from Mexico, once from the US. The first time I went I got to Mexico, I was deported back to San Pedro Sula, and then I just went straight back. I got to McAllen, Texas and was caught shortly after I got there. I was imprisoned for eight days and then deported. I didn’t have money to get a lawyer to fight my case, so I came back, I signed the form to be deported. I was in prison with Salvadoreans, Guatemalans, other Hondurans. I was 19. <br />
<br />
Thank God, the LWF has helped me a lot, from the first day I met them. With their help, we�
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190121_44...jpg
  • Brenda Paola Molina López, 22, San Pedro Catacamas<br />
<br />
I was in a private university. It was too expensive. I live with my mother, she’s a single mother, we couldn’t afford to carry on with the studies, I couldn’t find a job, there’s a lot of violence here, a lot. So, I decided to go to the US. <br />
<br />
We paid a smuggler, $4,000. <br />
<br />
Saying goodbye to my mum was hard, we’d never been apart before. You know it’s risky, you don’t know if you are going to come back, you are conscious of the risk, of being kidnapped, being raped, being killed. But, there’s nothing here. We don’t all have drinking water, sometimes there’s no water at all. There are people right here who don’t eat three meals a day, who can’t afford to send their kids to school, my neighbour here didn’t send their kids to school last year, couldn’t afford it. If you are lucky to get day work here, as a farm labourer, you might get 100 lempiras a day, maybe 90, depends, and it’s hard work. You can’t do much with 100 Lempiras ($4 USD). <br />
<br />
The truth is that you suffer on the journey, sometimes you walk all night, sometimes there’s not much food, you have to sleep on the floor, and it’s dangerous, you can be kidnapped, killed. They tried to sell one of the young women I was with, to sleep with men, you understand. I lost a lot of weight on the journey, I got really skinny, I didn’t get back to normal until after being in prison.<br />
<br />
I was deported twice, once from Mexico, once from the US. The first time I went I got to Mexico, I was deported back to San Pedro Sula, and then I just went straight back. I got to McAllen, Texas and was caught shortly after I got there. I was imprisoned for eight days and then deported. I didn’t have money to get a lawyer to fight my case, so I came back, I signed the form to be deported. I was in prison with Salvadoreans, Guatemalans, other Hondurans. I was 19. <br />
<br />
Thank God, the LWF has helped me a lot, from the first day I met them. With their help, we�
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190121_52...jpg
  • Brenda Paola Molina López, 22, San Pedro Catacamas<br />
<br />
I was in a private university. It was too expensive. I live with my mother, she’s a single mother, we couldn’t afford to carry on with the studies, I couldn’t find a job, there’s a lot of violence here, a lot. So, I decided to go to the US. <br />
<br />
We paid a smuggler, $4,000. <br />
<br />
Saying goodbye to my mum was hard, we’d never been apart before. You know it’s risky, you don’t know if you are going to come back, you are conscious of the risk, of being kidnapped, being raped, being killed. But, there’s nothing here. We don’t all have drinking water, sometimes there’s no water at all. There are people right here who don’t eat three meals a day, who can’t afford to send their kids to school, my neighbour here didn’t send their kids to school last year, couldn’t afford it. If you are lucky to get day work here, as a farm labourer, you might get 100 lempiras a day, maybe 90, depends, and it’s hard work. You can’t do much with 100 Lempiras ($4 USD). <br />
<br />
The truth is that you suffer on the journey, sometimes you walk all night, sometimes there’s not much food, you have to sleep on the floor, and it’s dangerous, you can be kidnapped, killed. They tried to sell one of the young women I was with, to sleep with men, you understand. I lost a lot of weight on the journey, I got really skinny, I didn’t get back to normal until after being in prison.<br />
<br />
I was deported twice, once from Mexico, once from the US. The first time I went I got to Mexico, I was deported back to San Pedro Sula, and then I just went straight back. I got to McAllen, Texas and was caught shortly after I got there. I was imprisoned for eight days and then deported. I didn’t have money to get a lawyer to fight my case, so I came back, I signed the form to be deported. I was in prison with Salvadoreans, Guatemalans, other Hondurans. I was 19. <br />
<br />
Thank God, the LWF has helped me a lot, from the first day I met them. With their help, we�
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190121_52...jpg
  • Brenda Paola Molina López, 22, San Pedro Catacamas<br />
<br />
I was in a private university. It was too expensive. I live with my mother, she’s a single mother, we couldn’t afford to carry on with the studies, I couldn’t find a job, there’s a lot of violence here, a lot. So, I decided to go to the US. <br />
<br />
We paid a smuggler, $4,000. <br />
<br />
Saying goodbye to my mum was hard, we’d never been apart before. You know it’s risky, you don’t know if you are going to come back, you are conscious of the risk, of being kidnapped, being raped, being killed. But, there’s nothing here. We don’t all have drinking water, sometimes there’s no water at all. There are people right here who don’t eat three meals a day, who can’t afford to send their kids to school, my neighbour here didn’t send their kids to school last year, couldn’t afford it. If you are lucky to get day work here, as a farm labourer, you might get 100 lempiras a day, maybe 90, depends, and it’s hard work. You can’t do much with 100 Lempiras ($4 USD). <br />
<br />
The truth is that you suffer on the journey, sometimes you walk all night, sometimes there’s not much food, you have to sleep on the floor, and it’s dangerous, you can be kidnapped, killed. They tried to sell one of the young women I was with, to sleep with men, you understand. I lost a lot of weight on the journey, I got really skinny, I didn’t get back to normal until after being in prison.<br />
<br />
I was deported twice, once from Mexico, once from the US. The first time I went I got to Mexico, I was deported back to San Pedro Sula, and then I just went straight back. I got to McAllen, Texas and was caught shortly after I got there. I was imprisoned for eight days and then deported. I didn’t have money to get a lawyer to fight my case, so I came back, I signed the form to be deported. I was in prison with Salvadoreans, Guatemalans, other Hondurans. I was 19. <br />
<br />
Thank God, the LWF has helped me a lot, from the first day I met them. With their help, we�
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190121_48...jpg
  • Brenda Paola Molina López, 22, San Pedro Catacamas<br />
<br />
I was in a private university. It was too expensive. I live with my mother, she’s a single mother, we couldn’t afford to carry on with the studies, I couldn’t find a job, there’s a lot of violence here, a lot. So, I decided to go to the US. <br />
<br />
We paid a smuggler, $4,000. <br />
<br />
Saying goodbye to my mum was hard, we’d never been apart before. You know it’s risky, you don’t know if you are going to come back, you are conscious of the risk, of being kidnapped, being raped, being killed. But, there’s nothing here. We don’t all have drinking water, sometimes there’s no water at all. There are people right here who don’t eat three meals a day, who can’t afford to send their kids to school, my neighbour here didn’t send their kids to school last year, couldn’t afford it. If you are lucky to get day work here, as a farm labourer, you might get 100 lempiras a day, maybe 90, depends, and it’s hard work. You can’t do much with 100 Lempiras ($4 USD). <br />
<br />
The truth is that you suffer on the journey, sometimes you walk all night, sometimes there’s not much food, you have to sleep on the floor, and it’s dangerous, you can be kidnapped, killed. They tried to sell one of the young women I was with, to sleep with men, you understand. I lost a lot of weight on the journey, I got really skinny, I didn’t get back to normal until after being in prison.<br />
<br />
I was deported twice, once from Mexico, once from the US. The first time I went I got to Mexico, I was deported back to San Pedro Sula, and then I just went straight back. I got to McAllen, Texas and was caught shortly after I got there. I was imprisoned for eight days and then deported. I didn’t have money to get a lawyer to fight my case, so I came back, I signed the form to be deported. I was in prison with Salvadoreans, Guatemalans, other Hondurans. I was 19. <br />
<br />
Thank God, the LWF has helped me a lot, from the first day I met them. With their help, we�
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190121_46...jpg
  • Juana Zuniga, Guapinol, partner of José Abelino Cedillo, one of the men who has been in prison for 15 months for protesting against the mining company in Guapinol.<br />
<br />
"The struggle we have here is in defence of this lovely river. The mining company Los Pinares ha been causing damage here since 2018. We began our struggle when we couldn't use the water from this river for seven months, it's essential for this community. This river provides the water for more than 3,000 people in the community... We began our struggle, a non-violent struggle, we wanted to recover our river as when the mining company started work the water turned into thick chocolatey substance that even the animals didn't want to drink. It was sad, we had to start buying large bottles of water. But some people didn't have the money to do that, we suffered seven months with water like that. Thank God, the water is clean again, but the flow is reduced, we don't know what the mine is doing to make that happen. For us, water is life, it is eveything. We have eight men in prison in Olanchito, without any evidence against them, we want them back, and we want the mining company to leave."
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_86...jpg
  • Juana Zuniga, Guapinol, partner of José Abelino Cedillo, one of the men who has been in prison for 15 months for protesting against the mining company in Guapinol.<br />
<br />
"The struggle we have here is in defence of this lovely river. The mining company Los Pinares ha been causing damage here since 2018. We began our struggle when we couldn't use the water from this river for seven months, it's essential for this community. This river provides the water for more than 3,000 people in the community... We began our struggle, a non-violent struggle, we wanted to recover our river as when the mining company started work the water turned into thick chocolatey substance that even the animals didn't want to drink. It was sad, we had to start buying large bottles of water. But some people didn't have the money to do that, we suffered seven months with water like that. Thank God, the water is clean again, but the flow is reduced, we don't know what the mine is doing to make that happen. For us, water is life, it is eveything. We have eight men in prison in Olanchito, without any evidence against them, we want them back, and we want the mining company to leave."
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201203_86...jpg
  • Jesús López, 17. Gangster. "I was sentenced to four and a half years prison for extortion. I've been inside for seven months and 17 days. I'll get out when I'm 22.When I was nine years old I used to go to a church called the Ministry of God's Beloved. But I had to work at that age, to survive economically. But it was hard at home, there were many problems, and I decided to leave home. My aunts would fight over the food, and well, they weren't my parents, and I didn't want to obey them, so I left, and I joined the gang. At ten years old I was taking drugs. I began murdering at age 12. I would kill kids of my own age, to keep in with the gang. In the gang that's something that's normal. When I was 14 I began stealing cars, carrying weapons, but by 16 I got into extortion, I would distribute people across neighbourhoods in Tegucigalpa to carry out the extortions. One of my children died, and my life went further out of control, I did more and more in the gang. I am here in this centre, and I'm trying to get some of the shit out of my head. I want to study, and maybe become a soldier. Before, you could leave the gang if you joined an evangelical church, but the gang is evolving, and now you can't leave unless you are dead. I'm alive, I'm still breathing, and I'm asking God for another chance."
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180820_5642.jpg
  • I’m Reina Isabal Calix, I’m a survivor of the massacre of Santa Clara and Horcones. The massacre happened on the 25 June 1975. There was a plan by landowners and military, Coronel Chinchilla. They confused work for the common good with work for communism. We were working for the common good. They prepared to crush us. We were a group of religious people, priests, farmers, women. We were struggling for agrarian reform. All we really wanted was for people to have enough land to plant food for themselves, to have their daily bread, for their children and families. We were united, teachers, poor farmers, young people, students, workers, priests. It was a big struggle, but they wanted to crush it. <br />
<br />
There was a Colombian priest here called Ivan Betancourt. There was also an American priest called Casimiro Zypher. They were both killed too, along with the campesinos and students. <br />
<br />
At that time, speaking about the common good, was like promoting communism. There was a plan, to destroy everything we were doing and slow down the agrarian reform. <br />
<br />
We had a shop, radiofonica school, they killed the person who ran it. We used to train carpenters and mechanics here.<br />
<br />
We planned a march, 5000 people came. They couldn’t stop it. But, the soldiers came in here using students as a cover, it was a trick. Three people died right here, in the centre. <br />
<br />
Others were taken to the prison. Father Casimiro died being tortured during interrogation. Later they took them to a farm, and most were killed there, they threw the bodies down a well. Fourteen people were killed.
    Honduras_Hawkey_20190122_047.jpg
  • A street scene in Intibucá outside the city prison, the mural painted on the wall is a portrait of Berta Cáceres. Berta Cáceres campaigned and organised communities in Intibucá and other areas of Honduras to defend indigenous rights and territories before her assassination.
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190204_83...jpg
  • José Graviel, 22, Jutiquiles<br />
<br />
Some men wanted to rape my sister, so my mother went to the police to report them, then the men killed my mother. I was six. I don’t know my father, he’s been in prison for 17 years. I’ve been looking after my younger siblings since my mother died. I get afraid time to time, there’s still a lot of violence.  But the main reason I left was the economic situation here. Poverty. <br />
<br />
I went on my own, no smuggler, I couldn’t afford to pay one. I was stopped by Mexican Migration, in Palenque, I was detained for three days and was sent back on a bus.<br />
<br />
The LWF trained me as a barber, and bit by bit I’m building up clients, everyone round here comes for a haircut.<br />
<br />
I have a girlfriend, but we can’t get married until we’ve prepared well, we want a place to live, we’re saving up. <br />
<br />
LWF’s program for returned and deported migrants is supported by ELCA.
    Honduras_Hawkey_migrants_20190122_53...jpg
  • Silvia Maria Alvarez Rosales<br />
Tenquiscapa<br />
<br />
I have migrated to the US seven times. The last time was a very bad experience.<br />
<br />
At the beginning it was fun, going through Mexico. But, as soon as I got across the river into the US, it was bad. It is dangerous, you can lose everything including your life.<br />
<br />
My feet were tired, I’d been walking three days and nights, I had injuries on my feet, my socks were stuck to my feet, I couldn’t bear it any more. That night, we were walking through forest, there were thorns, the thorns would get stuck in my skin, scratch and injure me. We could see lights way off in the distance. It was evening time, I saw a woman who’d given birth, both the woman and the baby were dead. I got scared, the guide got hold of me and covered my mouth to stop me screaming. The smuggler wasn’t bad, he left me on a road where I’d get picked up by the migration. <br />
<br />
Migration passed by a few times before picking me up. Eventually they woke me up, I could hardly stand up, they treated my wounds. I asked for political asylum, and I was left in prison for seven months before being deported. My family thought I was dead, there aren’t any international calls. When I got back here, I got off the bus, and my father saw me and he fell down on the ground and couldn’t stop crying. <br />
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The LWF has helped me set up my own salon, they’ve helped me a lot, to buy my equipment, they’ve given me training. Now I have a job, I have no need to leave again.<br />
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LWF’s program for returned and deported migrants is supported by ELCA.
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  • Silvia Maria Alvarez Rosales<br />
Tenquiscapa<br />
<br />
I have migrated to the US seven times. The last time was a very bad experience.<br />
<br />
At the beginning it was fun, going through Mexico. But, as soon as I got across the river into the US, it was bad. It is dangerous, you can lose everything including your life.<br />
<br />
My feet were tired, I’d been walking three days and nights, I had injuries on my feet, my socks were stuck to my feet, I couldn’t bear it any more. That night, we were walking through forest, there were thorns, the thorns would get stuck in my skin, scratch and injure me. We could see lights way off in the distance. It was evening time, I saw a woman who’d given birth, both the woman and the baby were dead. I got scared, the guide got hold of me and covered my mouth to stop me screaming. The smuggler wasn’t bad, he left me on a road where I’d get picked up by the migration. <br />
<br />
Migration passed by a few times before picking me up. Eventually they woke me up, I could hardly stand up, they treated my wounds. I asked for political asylum, and I was left in prison for seven months before being deported. My family thought I was dead, there aren’t any international calls. When I got back here, I got off the bus, and my father saw me and he fell down on the ground and couldn’t stop crying. <br />
<br />
The LWF has helped me set up my own salon, they’ve helped me a lot, to buy my equipment, they’ve given me training. Now I have a job, I have no need to leave again.<br />
<br />
<br />
LWF’s program for returned and deported migrants is supported by ELCA.
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  • Fanny Ruiz, San Pedro Sula<br />
<br />
Fanny’s son, Jorge Alexander, joined the migrant caravan, against her will, and got to the US border at Tijuana. One night, he was lured into a house with two other Honduran boys, Jorge Alexander and one other were tortured and killed, the third boy escaped. This follows months of hate speech in the media in Mexico and the US, against migrants, and the killings are being treated as hate crimes.<br />
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"My name is Fanny Ruiz. When I was four years old my father killed my mother. My father was sent to prison for a while. Then my brother was killed. My next brother was disappeared, we never saw him again. Then my third brother was killed. Of the six brothers and sisters that we were, just us three girls are alive now. <br />
<br />
Thank God I'm still alive, to carry on looking after my children, but it's not great having to hide in your own country so that nothing happens to you. <br />
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All girls and women in this country are in a dangerous position, many of us are scared to go out in case we get followed and raped and killed.<br />
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I have shrapnel all over me, here in my forehead, in my back, my legs, my breasts. I was shot 13 times, they were trying to kill me. Thank God, I am still here, alive to look after my kids.<br />
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I have worked in lots of things to take care of my children: gardening, farming, building construction, flooring, cooking. I’m good with money, I work hard, I don’t have any vices, but that's not enough."<br />
<br />
Fanny is pictured with two of her children in the cemetery, at the grave they prepared to bury Jorge Alexander while they were waiting for the repatriation of his body.
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  • Father Martin Newell, Passionist priest<br />
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I’m here because we have a climate emergency, we need to make radical changes to our economy, and to do that we need a political earthquake. To make it happen, we need a non-violent civil uprising. We need to have a zero-carbon economy by 2030 at the latest. This sort of change is unprecedented in human history, so we want the government to declare an emergency, to deal with this as an emergency, not business as usual, Getting arrested, going to prison, that’s something I’m willing to do, it’s not something I want to do, I have other things I'd rather being doing with my life, but I’m willing to do it to make this happen. And there are many of us willing to make sacrifices. For me, I’m trying to follow Jesus, he showed us the redemptive power of suffering love, on the cross and in his passion, that’s the way of the cross, it’s the path I am called to follow in these situations".
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  • A handful of coffee parchment at UCCEI coop, Matagalpa, Nicaragua. the parchment is given to the local prison to burn in stoves for cooking. The coop is fairtrade-certified. Fairtrade is an alternative approach to conventional trade and is based on a partnership between producers and consumers. Fairtrade offers producers a better deal and improved terms of trade. This allows them the opportunity to improve their lives and plan for their future. Fairtrade offers consumers a powerful way to reduce poverty through their every day shopping. www.flocentroamerica.net
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  • A street scene in Intibucá outside the city prison, the graffitti on the wall says 'Berta vive en el corazón del pueblo' (Berta lives in the heart of the people) and 'Berta Vive' )Berta Lives). Berta Cáceres campaigned and organised communities in Intibucá and other areas of Honduras to defend indigenous rights and territories before her assassination.
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  • Rubén Dario Martinez, 28, Santa Cruz, Catacamas, Olancho<br />
<br />
I learnt to be a barber from nothing, I didn’t know anything about it, learnt it all from the LWF training, building up a clientele. It’s better than working as a security guard, like before. I’d earn less than half of the national minimum wage, and the work was all night, it was dangerous. I worked in a hotel, where all sorts of people go, if you know what I mean, this is a dangerous city. One time a client was drunk and wanted me to drink with him, I said no and he but the barrel of his gun in my face and forced me to drink.<br />
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I decided for reasons of security to try to get to the US. Also out of sheer poverty. When you’re on the bottom rung, it’s hard.<br />
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I went on my own, no smuggler, didn’t have the money to pay one. It was hard. Sometimes I didn’t eat. Sometimes I met people with children, sometimes I’d help them carry their kids, it’s hard to leave people behind struggling, it’s hard. Sometimes people tried to rob us. Sometimes people would insult me.<br />
I got to Mexico City. That’s where I was caught. I spent two weeks in prison in Mexico, it was full of Hondurans, Guatemalans, Salvadoreans. <br />
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No one likes to leave their family on their own. <br />
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Rubén looks after his younger brother who has Downs Syndrome.<br />
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LWF’s program for returned and deported migrants is supported by ELCA.
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  • José Graviel, 22, Jutiquiles<br />
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Some men wanted to rape my sister, so my mother went to the police to report them, then the men killed my mother. I was six. I don’t know my father, he’s been in prison for 17 years. I’ve been looking after my younger siblings since my mother died. I get afraid time to time, there’s still a lot of violence.  But the main reason I left was the economic situation here. Poverty. <br />
<br />
I went on my own, no smuggler, I couldn’t afford to pay one. I was stopped by Mexican Migration, in Palenque, I was detained for three days and was sent back on a bus.<br />
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The LWF trained me as a barber, and bit by bit I’m building up clients, everyone round here comes for a haircut.<br />
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I have a girlfriend, but we can’t get married until we’ve prepared well, we want a place to live, we’re saving up. <br />
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LWF’s program for returned and deported migrants is supported by ELCA.
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  • Reynaldo Dominguez, Guapinol.<br />
<br />
"We coordinate the committee for the defence of natural wealth in the committee. Two concessions given by the state of Honduras for open caste mining here in the community, have given way to a struggle for the prevention of contamination of the river Guapinol. This struggle has led to people being arrested and imprisoned, who have been in prison already for 15 months for defending the river, for defending life, water means life".
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201202_86...jpg
  • Reynaldo Dominguez, Guapinol.<br />
<br />
"We coordinate the committee for the defence of natural wealth in the committee. Two concessions given by the state of Honduras for open caste mining here in the community, have given way to a struggle for the prevention of contamination of the river Guapinol. This struggle has led to people being arrested and imprisoned, who have been in prison already for 15 months for defending the river, for defending life, water means life".
    Honduras_Eta_Iota_Hawkey_20201202_86...jpg
  • Jesús García, Carrizal Uno, La Paz, Honduras. Jesús was a political prisoner in the 1980s, around the time that Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated, a Catholic who was working for justice and peace, he was disappeared for several days and taken to a military base, he was tortured, and then kept prisoner for 17 months "for preaching the gospel and telling the truth" he says. He was released following a campaign by Amnesty International.
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180310_448.jpg
  • Jesús García, Carrizal Uno, La Paz, Honduras. Jesús was a political prisoner in the 1980s, around the time that Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated, a Catholic who was working for justice and peace, he was disappeared for several days and taken to a military base, he was tortured, and then kept prisoner for 17 months "for preaching the gospel and telling the truth" he says. He was released following a campaign by Amnesty International.
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180310_426.jpg
  • Jesús García, Carrizal Uno, La Paz, Honduras. Jesús was a political prisoner in the 1980s, around the time that Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated, a Catholic who was working for justice and peace, he was disappeared for several days and taken to a military base, he was tortured, and then kept prisoner for 17 months "for preaching the gospel and telling the truth" he says. He was released following a campaign by Amnesty International.
    Honduras_Hawkey_20180310_465.jpg