Hundreds of migrants are now spending their first nights in Chicago aboard buses at the city’s designated “landing zone” for new arrivals, where many say they’re getting little food or medical assistance.
“An adult can take it, but the kids can’t — the cold, the sickness” said Jonathan, a recent arrival, on Monday outside the bus where he’s been staying four nights with his partner and their son.
The city’s “landing zone” became an effective temporary shelter for migrants in late December after the city largely stopped housing them at police stations. It’s quickly grown to house more than 500 people in buses, including over 100 children, according to the city, as the number of people arriving has outpaced the city’s ability to place them in shelters.
The worsening situation at the site at 800 S. Desplaines St. began developing when migrants started staying there two weeks ago — months after the city and state announced they would use tens of millions of dollars to build an intake center, which the city said would likely be a brick-and-mortar location.
Construction of that center is underway, an Illinois Department of Human Services spokeswoman confirmed Monday, and will be finished later this month. But the six “heated tents” will be used for social services, not housing.
The center is also where migrants will reapply for shelter, the city said when announcing 60-day shelter limits in mid-November.
The city is planning to open a new shelter in January at an empty Archdiocese of Chicago property but did not respond to queries about an updated timeline.
Sleeping aboard the buses is a rough welcome for some.
“We need medicine, clothes for the kids and blankets,” said Jonathan, 31, who asked that his last name not be used for fear of repercussions.
Many say they only receive one hot meal — often pasta — and one cold meal — often bread — per day.
“Lunch is breakfast and dinner is lunch,” said Luis, 25, who said in his four days at the site, the first meal often came around 1 p.m.
In response to questions about the landing zone, the city said basic necessities were provided there and emphasized the upcoming opening of the intake center, which officials hope will route migrants to sponsors through Chicago and the rest of the country.
But at the landing zone, those basic necessities seem scarce.
Many spend their time waiting to see if someone will come by with a donation.
“I don’t want to be here, but that’s the way it is,” said Jesus Infante, standing outside a bus without a jacket in the near-freezing cold.
The 23-year-old said he had been given a jacket by staff, but it was too small for him. He said in his three nights on board, he didn’t have a blanket, although another migrant leaving the buses to reconnect with family gave his blanket to him.
There were about 10 buses at the site, and a bus operator who asked to remain unnamed because they weren’t authorized to speak, said the buses had about 50 people aboard.
“It’s so many people, and I got little babies aboard my bus,” the operator said. “I hear the kids coughing a lot.”
The operator expressed concern about their health since hearing Mayor Brandon Johnson say Texas Gov. Greg Abbott was sending migrants to Chicago “sick.”
That comment came in response to questions about the death of 5-year-old Jean Carlos Martinez Rivero on Dec. 17, who died weeks after moving into the city’s largest migrant shelter at 2241 S. Halsted St. in the Pilsen neighborhood.
Health care providers treating asylum-seekers have pushed back against Johnson’s language, saying the illnesses are the result of migrants staying in overcrowded, unsanitary conditions.
Those conditions are being replicated at the landing zone, where on Monday two ambulances were called for sick migrants, according to a Chicago Fire Department spokesman.
“We’re practically sleeping on top of one another,” said Paula Quiñones, 38, of the four nights she spent on board with her partner, 8-year-old son and dozens of others.
Quiñones said life aboard the bus wasn’t as bad as the danger of crossing Mexico or their hometown in Ecuador, which they left because of widespread violence.
But she also felt not much closer to the stable life where she could just focus on her son Ander’s schooling that she wanted.
“That’s our goal — to work and establish ourselves here,” she said. “Just got to keep fighting and moving forward.”
Michael Loria is a staff reporter for the Chicago Sun-Times via Report for America, a not-for-profit journalism program that aims to bolster the paper’s coverage of communities on the South Side and West Side.
