They speak pain in their voices and sorrows in their eyes. Originally initiated, they eventually opened up and said, through tears, how they were in a situation that was sometimes unimaginable: selling their bodies to the end.
Mariza, a certified nurse, travels from the border from Venezuela to Colombia two years ago, leaving her mother and three children. Like most immigrants with professional races, he expects to find a job in his own field, but when the doors are repeatedly closed on his face and even a cleaning job is nowhere near, found by Mariza herself made an impossible decision.
"To have a man today and somebody tomorrow," she says about her fall into prostitution, is not easy, and it is dangerous. But as a mother, "you do not think ̵
Confusion in his voice when he speaks of his time spent in education and unable to work as a nurse. "I'm worried because you realize you're working. Five years of my life study, preparing – I feel at this moment that I've lost five years since I can not," she says, tears are flowing in his face.
Returning home, he was a woman with a career and a dream, but the crisis in Venezuela created a downward spiral that she could not control.
As a certified nurse, the 15-day job took him only to buy a bag of flour. A normal run of the grocery has become a two-day rigorous test and even then no guarantee Mariza finds the things she needs, like diapers for her baby.
According to Mariza, people spent the night out of the shops, waiting to be given a number the next morning. With a ticket on hand, customers will be waiting outside to buy any store that may have that day. "You have no choice but to buy whatever is in stock," he said.
& # 39; We always vote for Chavez & # 39;
For years, Venezuelans supported President Nicolás Maduro who, like his predecessor, Hugo Chavez, used the country's oil wealth to fund social programs. But when oil prices began to fall, and the economy ended, many Venezuelans began protesting the hand that fed them.
Mariza was among them. Chavez's whole family supported him. "We always vote for Chavez," he said, the former leader and current presidency for the mismanagement of the country that led to this crisis.
In the past, "no hunger, no shortages, no separation, "said Mariza, explaining that when things are good, you leave the country" for a vacation, not for necessity. "
Her family's desperate needs brought her here , in Cúcuta – a city border with one of the highest levels of unemployment in Colombia – where he is fighting every day to send enough food, diapers and basic supplies to his mother and children.
If his mother knew what he was doing, would he understand? "My mother is a super mother. My mother is all," she said, her voice cracking again. "And I know the day he found, for any reason, hurt him but he will not condemn me."
& # 39; I do things that are not good to live & # 39;
The economic crisis is driving Venezuelans from all walks of life to leave their country in search of food, medicine and a better life, and neighboring Colombia is the feeling of effect.
More than three million Venezuelans left their homes, with one million emigrating to neighboring Colombia, the UNHCR said in November. Malcia's former lawyer came more than a week ago, leaving her two children behind her 64-year-old parents.
"I can only give them breakfast, sometimes lunch, and sometimes they sleep without eating, they go to school, I do not even make it impossible," she says, having trouble talking about the truth of his new life.
he was in Colombia hoping to find a job as a cleaner, a babysitter, "anything." Even though the doors were closed on his face, he never thought of himself "getting over it." He tore off the tears, he said, "when I was in Venezuela, I was on the point of going crazy, and here I was going to go crazy because I was doing things that were not good to live."  It's a burden that weighs him constantly. "I knelt in the night to ask God – even in my church to ask forgiveness of God – because I was thinking of the little faces of my children, my parents … Not easy, friend, not easy, "he
& # 39; My child raises the child & # 39;
It is not just professional women who are desperate. At the sea of thousands of migrants are younger women like Erica, who find themselves unable to get a job. Just 17 years old, Erica sold her body to deliver her seven-year-old son, who had been carrying across Colombia's border with her arms.
Finding a job at Cúcuta, with a high level of unemployment, was heavily bitten, and the lack of age made it even more difficult, he said, so he gave "this option – the worst there . "
If not for Maduro and his government, he said, he would be studying to become a veterinarian. And despite the departure of his dream, he said, as a mother, he would do anything.
"I will not let my child have no diaper, no bottle," he said. At the end of the day, she said, "I'm a mother, but I consider myself a child that raises a child."