The flight landed safely in the middle of the morning, the sun occasionally bursting through the clouds over Guatemala City.
But instead of taxiing to International Arrivals, the plane headed towards the military side of the airport as fighter jets screamed above, weaving around in training exercises.
When the aircraft doors opened, dozens of men and women were ushered onto the tarmac where they were greeted by an emotional Guatemalan Vice President Karin Herrera and other officials and then led into a reception center for returnees.
“Good morning!” one shouted. “How are you, paisanos (countrymen)?”
This was a chartered deportation flight from the United States, an operation that’s gained new attention since the inauguration of President Donald Trump last week and his promises to remove millions of undocumented migrants.
If there was any shame or animosity when the flight left Alexandria, Louisiana, just before sunrise, none of that was evident when the migrants walked back on Guatemalan soil, many shuffling in open sneakers — the laces having been taken by US authorities in a common safety practice, and never returned.
The passengers – all adults on this flight – were welcomed with cookies and coffee and efficient processing in the migrant reception center.
She did not want to discuss the weekend spat between Colombia and the US over the use of military planes, saying her focus was on her citizens.
“We are committed to their integrity and their basic rights,” Herrera said.
Some of the returning Guatemalans had lived and worked in the US for years. Some were fluent in English. But they had all entered without permission or documents and so were subject to deportation.
The migrants left the US as criminals, telling us they were handcuffed on board until they were out of US airspace on their flight south. But whether they were looking forward to being back on home turf or not, the official reception they got was mostly very warm, as if they had been badly missed. A few did remain in handcuffs and were escorted by police, expected to face action for crimes alleged to have been committed in their homeland.
But for the majority, they sat with snacks as names were called and temporary identification papers were handed out. “Undocumented” no more.
They might have skills and abilities that could find them work and a good life back in their home country, benefiting themselves and Guatemala too, officials said.
The returning migrants applauded Herrera after she gave a short speech in the arrival hall but each has their own view on whether they will heed calls to stay.
‘It feels dangerous in the US now’
Sara Tot-Botoz had lived for 10 years in Alabama, working in construction, roofing and car repair, as well as caring for two of her children, now adults, and grandchildren.
She said she had been driving away from a Walmart with one of those grandchildren about seven months ago when she says police pulled her over and cited her for not having him in a car seat.
After her immigration status was discovered, she spent two months in jail in Alabama and then five months in Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention in Louisiana, she said.
Once processed back into Guatemala, she said her first thought was to get out of the shapeless gray sweats she was wearing and into her indigenous clothes. And then to eat some good food.
Tot-Botoz, 43, stood waiting for her belongings. Only a handful of the migrants had suitcases for their things. Most others waited for a large plastic sack to be handed over containing all that they had taken from the US.
As others charged their phones at free power banks to call friends or relatives, Tot-Botoz changed and hurried out onto the street outside.
There was another of her children, a daughter, now 25, who had not seen her mother since she was 15.
The two women hugged each other for a long time, each crying.
They had not been in contact since Tot-Botoz was taken to detention and while there was much to catch up on, for a few minutes they just wanted to hold each other.
A lingering American dream
But Fidel Ambrocio said he still saw his future in the US.
He said he had lived there for a total of 19 years, first arriving as a teen and voluntarily leaving for a spell in 2018 before heading back north.
He has a wife, a four-year-old daughter and a baby son, born just a couple of months before he was detained, he said, on an old warrant for trespass at the home of his ex-wife’s mother.
Ambrocio, 35, who’d worked in construction in Montgomery, Alabama, seemed almost stunned to be back in Guatemala.
He was also angry, not comprehending why he was deported when most of the rhetoric from Trump and his team has been about sending violent offenders out of the country.
“We’re not criminals,” he insisted, saying he did not consider his offence to be a serious crime.
“If I can never go back, I will try to get my wife and kids here,” he conceded. “That will be very challenging.”
