The blockades turned it into a cage.
In the high-altitude border crossing of Desaguadero, where the Andes offer no shelter from indifference, three Haitian migrants — among them a child — have died not from violence but from the quiet violence of being unreachable. Peru's anti-government protests have sealed the roads, and in doing so have transformed a political crisis into a humanitarian one, trapping people who had no part in the country's struggles and no way out of its consequences. Seven Haitian deaths are now counted in this toll, and the United Nations is calling for humanitarian corridors before the cold and the waiting claim more.
- Road blockades erected by anti-government protesters in southern Peru have cut off access to food, shelter, and medical care for migrant populations stranded at 3,800 meters above sea level.
- Three Haitian migrants — including a child — have died in Desaguadero from deprivation and exposure, bringing the total of blockade-related Haitian deaths to seven since the protests began.
- Hundreds of migrants from Haiti, Venezuela, and elsewhere are scattered across Peru's southern departments, unable to work, unable to move, and unable to reach hospitals as their conditions deteriorate.
- UN agencies ACNUR and OIM have issued urgent calls for humanitarian transit corridors and are warning migrants in neighboring countries not to enter Peru until safe passage can be guaranteed.
- The blockades show no sign of lifting — protests continue, political demands remain unmet, and the most vulnerable remain trapped in the cold, waiting for roads that have not yet opened.
In Desaguadero, a border town where Peru meets Bolivia at punishing altitude, three Haitian migrants — including a child — died in recent days from isolation rather than violence. The roads were blocked. There was no food, no shelter, no way to reach a doctor. The UN refugee agency confirmed the deaths on Friday, raising to seven the number of Haitian migrants who have died since Peru's anti-government protests began.
Desaguadero has become the crisis's sharpest edge. Demonstrators demanding President Dina Boluarte's resignation have sealed the highways with barricades, leaving truck drivers stranded and ordinary residents crossing into Bolivia on foot for basic supplies. For migrants passing through — most of them Haitians, Venezuelans, and others hoping to reach the United States — the blockades are not an inconvenience but a trap. Two more Haitian migrants were hospitalized with respiratory conditions that became life-threatening only because no timely care was available.
UN agencies tracking the situation report that migrant groups are scattered across the southern departments of Puno, Tacna, and Madre de Dios, unable to work, unable to move, unable to access health services. Many had paid dearly for transport through Peru, expecting to continue northward. Instead, they are stranded. Repeated calls for humanitarian corridors — safe passage for families, pregnant women, children, and the sick — have gone unanswered as the blockades hold.
The wider death toll from Peru's upheaval is severe: 47 people killed in clashes between protesters and security forces, eleven more deaths attributed to blockade-related causes. The seven Haitian deaths sit within this larger catastrophe but carry a particular weight — these were people in transit, with no stake in Peru's politics, caught in a crisis entirely not of their making. The UN continues to coordinate warnings to migrants in neighboring countries, but the protests continue, the demands remain unmet, and in the cold towns of the southern Andes, people wait for roads that have not yet opened.
In the high-altitude border town of Desaguadero, where Peru meets Bolivia at 3,800 meters above sea level, three Haitian migrants—including a child—died in recent days from causes that had nothing to do with violence and everything to do with isolation. They could not reach a doctor. The roads were blocked. Food was scarce. The cold was relentless. The United Nations refugee agency confirmed the deaths on Friday, adding three more names to a growing toll that now stands at seven Haitian migrants dead since the anti-government protests began.
Desaguadero has become the epicenter of Peru's political crisis, a place where demonstrators demanding the resignation of President Dina Boluarte have sealed off the highways with barricades of earth and stone. Truck drivers sit idle in their cabs, waiting for passage that may not come for days. Ordinary people walk across the border on foot to buy fuel and food in Bolivia because the formal routes are closed. But for the migrants passing through—people from Haiti, Venezuela, and elsewhere, most of them trying to reach the United States—the blockades are not an inconvenience. They are a trap.
The three who died succumbed to a combination of deprivation: lack of food, lack of shelter, lack of medical attention, and the punishing climate of the high Andes. Two more Haitian migrants were hospitalized in the same location with respiratory problems, conditions that might have been manageable with timely care but become life-threatening when a person is stranded at altitude with no way out. The UN agencies tracking the crisis—the UN Refugee Agency and the International Organization for Migration—documented that groups of migrants are scattered across Peru's southern departments, cut off in towns like Puno, Tacna, and Madre de Dios, unable to work, unable to move, unable to access health services.
Many of these migrants arrived in Peru from Chile or Brazil, paying for informal and formal transport at steep prices, hoping to cross the country and continue northward. Instead, they are stuck. The road blockades have made them more vulnerable than ever. They cannot find the informal work that sustains them. They cannot reach hospitals. They cannot leave. The organizations helping them have asked repeatedly for humanitarian corridors—safe passage for families, pregnant women, children, elderly people, and those with medical conditions—but the blockades remain.
The broader death toll from Peru's political upheaval is staggering. According to the Ombudsman's office, 47 people died in direct clashes between protesters and security forces. One police officer was burned alive by demonstrators. Eleven more deaths have been attributed to blockade-related incidents—people unable to reach hospitals, unable to move, unable to survive the chaos. President Boluarte herself announced the death of another patient who needed to reach Lima but was trapped by the roadblocks. The seven Haitian deaths are part of this larger catastrophe, but they carry a particular weight: these were people passing through, not citizens of Peru, with no stake in its politics, caught in a crisis not of their making.
The UN agencies issued a joint statement on January 20, after the first four Haitian deaths were confirmed, calling for humanitarian transit. They have continued to coordinate with other UN bodies to warn migrants in neighboring countries about the dangers ahead, trying to prevent more people from entering Peru only to be stranded. But the blockades show no sign of ending. The protests continue. The demands remain unmet. And in Desaguadero and the towns around it, vulnerable people wait in the cold, hoping the roads will open before it is too late.
Notable Quotes
We ask that humanitarian transit be permitted, especially for the most vulnerable—families, children, pregnant women, refugees, migrants, elderly people, and those with health conditions.— ACNUR and OIM joint statement
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a political protest in Peru end up killing Haitian migrants who have nothing to do with Peruvian politics?
Because the blockades don't discriminate. They seal off entire regions. A migrant trying to reach a hospital faces the same closed road as a truck driver trying to deliver goods. The difference is that a truck driver can wait. A person with a respiratory infection at 3,800 meters altitude cannot.
Were these migrants trying to stay in Peru, or were they passing through?
Passing through. Most came from Chile or Brazil and were headed to the United States. Peru was just a corridor. But the blockades turned it into a cage.
What does "lack of food, shelter, and medical care" actually mean in that context? Were they literally starving?
They were stranded in a town with no income, no way to work, no way to leave. The informal jobs that sustain migrants—day labor, street vending—disappeared when the roads closed. And at that altitude, the cold is not abstract. It kills.
The UN agencies asked for humanitarian corridors. Did anyone listen?
They asked on January 20. By early February, when these three died, the answer was still no. The blockades remained. The demands of the protesters—the president's resignation, the dissolution of Congress—had not changed, and neither had the roadblocks.
Is this the worst of it, or are there more migrants still trapped?
More are trapped. Groups are scattered across three southern departments. Two more Haitian migrants were hospitalized with respiratory problems in the same location where the three died. The crisis is ongoing.