Colombia Diplomatic Standoff Over Deportations: A Clash of Policies
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On January 20, Daniel Oquendo, 33, crossed the US-Mexico border, hoping for a new beginning. Instead, he was met with a stern warning from US border agents: “The fun is over for you here, the music has changed … you’ve got to go back.” Just over a week later, he found himself back in Colombia amid a diplomatic crisis between US President Donald Trump and Colombian President Gustavo Petro.
Oquendo was among nearly 200 Colombian migrants scheduled for deportation early Sunday morning. However, their return took an unexpected turn when Colombian authorities blocked the arrival of two US military planes carrying deportees. The decision ignited tensions between Washington and Bogotá, leading to threats of economic retaliation before Colombia ultimately relented.
Recounting his experience, Oquendo described the confusion aboard the military transport plane. “They told us we were flying to Bogotá, a seven-hour trip, but after ten hours, we landed and saw an ambulance marked ‘Houston.’” The group had been returned to the United States, but no one provided any explanations.
Following their unexpected layover in Houston, the deportees were taken to El Paso, where US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officers temporarily removed their restraints. Colombian consulate officials arrived the next day to conduct interviews. By Tuesday, Oquendo and the others were finally flown home—not by the US, but by a Colombian government aircraft.
Deportation flights are not new for Colombia, which saw over a hundred such flights in 2024 alone. However, the optics of handcuffed migrants on military planes proved unacceptable to Petro. “A migrant is not a criminal and must be treated with dignity,” Petro declared. “If this country [the US] sends them away, it must be with respect for them and our nation. We will welcome our fellow countrymen on civilian planes, without treating them like criminals.”
For Oquendo, the political dispute seemed unnecessary. “It was just a media show. The president made an issue out of us, but in the end, he had to accept the deportations. It changed nothing,” he said.
Not all deportees shared his frustration. Andrei Barrientos, 36, expressed gratitude for the humane treatment upon boarding the Colombian government’s plane. “As soon as we got on, they smiled at us and said, ‘Welcome to Colombia!’” he recalled.
Neither man was aware of the political storm surrounding their deportation until arriving in Bogotá, where reporters filled them in. “We didn’t have access to news in the CBP detention centers—just sports and old movies. I only learned about the controversy when I landed,” Barrientos said.
For Barrientos, this was his second deportation, and he intends for it to be his last. “I don’t want to try again,” he said, hoping to build a future in Medellín. Oquendo, however, remains uncertain. “I can’t let my family down,” he said. “I have a place to stay in Bogotá, but there are no jobs. I have to find a way forward.”
The ordeal underscores the challenges faced by migrants and the political complexities surrounding immigration enforcement. While Petro’s protest was brief, it highlighted the broader debate over how deportations should be handled—with security or with dignity.