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Exiled from the Maduro regime becomes an influencer of Venezuelan immigrants in Brazil

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Is the border open? Will you close? Did it reopen?

Despite not having an official position in Brazil or Venezuela, Yesica Morais receives this type of question every day. It is to her that thousands of Venezuelans turn when they need up-to-date information about the route that divides the countries, in the state of Roraima —and also to find out how to obtain a passport, the necessary documents to travel with children and how to revalidate the university degree.

Daughter of a Brazilian prospector and a Colombian trader, born and raised in Venezuela, Yeca, as she is known, has a profile on social networks that has made her a reference for Venezuelans who live or want to live in Brazil. With videos about documentation, Portuguese courses, vaccinations and other issues that directly affect these immigrants, she has gained more than 30,000 followers on Instagram and posts that exceed 100,000 likes on TikTok.

A former resident of Santa Elena de Uairén, a border town with Pacaraima from Roraima, Yeca, 36, is herself a member of the exodus that has led more than 7 million people to leave Venezuela. In 2019, she hurriedly moved to this side of the border, after participating in a frustrated attempt by the opposition to dictator Nicolás Maduro to force the entry of American humanitarian aid into the country.

At the time, opposition leader Juan Guaidó headed the operation, seen as a violation of the country’s sovereignty by the Chavista regime. Trucks with tons of food and medicine ended up stuck at the borders with Brazil and Colombia, and protesters were injured and killed.

Yeca claims that she has always been against Chavismo, but had never been interested in political militancy until 2017, when she campaigned for an opposition candidate for governor. “He won, but they stole the election. We were already used to these frauds, but being there, living it, made me realize that I had nothing else to do in the country”, says she, who migrated to Colombia at that time.

A year later, he decided to return. “Then Guaidó appeared, and everything that was sleeping inside me woke up. I renewed my faith, I decided to fight for his possession”, he says. When he learned that part of the humanitarian aid convoy was going to enter his city, he began to encourage his countrymen to support the operation.

On February 22, the eve of the day scheduled for the trucks to enter, the death of indigenous people by regime guards took the population of Santa Elena to the streets — something rare, according to Yeca, since the city did not usually mobilize, even because it was more protected from the crisis than others in the interior of the country.

“There is mining, prospecting, tourism. What was cheaper the merchants sold to Brazilians, when something was missing we bought it in Brazil. So there was a certain apathy”, he says. “But it was a commotion. The people took to the streets, wanting to participate in that essential moment in history. We were sure that this time the government was going to fall.”

The center of Santa Elena, with its typical country town square, has become a battleground. Yeca was there, throwing Molotov cocktails and broadcasting the events live on social media.

“3,000 armed troops came, war tanks shooting at us, and we only had sticks and stones to defend ourselves”, he says. “We knew we couldn’t win. I have a daughter, I should take care of myself more, but I also thought: what country am I going to leave my daughter?”

According to human rights NGOs, clashes in Santa Elena left eight dead and more than 40 injured, some of whom were transferred for medical care in Brazil.

The failure of the action disappointed Yeca. “We thought that Guaidó was going to help, that some country was going to intervene. Until we saw that no one was going to save us. We had the enemy armed inside the house.”

Hiding in a house that wasn’t hers, she says she threw herself into a river when men in uniform arrived to pick her up. She fled to Pacaraima, “so traumatized that if a fork fell she thought it was a gunshot”. Five days after the clashes, Yeca’s sister said members of the intelligence service kicked down the door to her house, looking for her for “incitement to hatred and financing of terrorism”.

From Pacaraima, Yeca posted videos about the tension on the border, even to show that she was no longer in Venezuela and to avoid persecution of her family. That’s when she started receiving questions about the status of the passage between countries and posting videos on the subject — the seed of her Instagram channel.

Alerted that she could be in danger being a few kilometers from her country of origin, she decided to move to Boa Vista, where she currently lives and is often recognized on the street by her channel followers.

Yeca studied journalism in Venezuela, but did not complete the course. In order to gain credibility on an issue that is constantly the target of rumors and fake news, she seeks information in official channels, with public defenders and international bodies. “I study a lot, I know my responsibility”, she says. In the gallery on her cell phone, she shows the reporter how she records the same video 20 times or more, until she is satisfied with the result.

To support herself, the influencer works as a freelance travel agent, but says she tries to measure job mentions in her profiles. “I take great care of my name. The work I do on social media is more humanitarian, I don’t want it to become a ticket sales channel.”

Yeca has been invited to give lectures on community communication and is creating an NGO to develop projects that encourage immigrants. “I want to reinforce that my people work, that no one is dependent on social assistance; teach how to set up a business in Brazil, take successful Venezuelans to give lectures. I want empowered migrants, who don’t feel like poor people.”

She says she feels proud of what she does — and is especially happy when employees of international NGOs or UN agencies say they follow her posts. “I feel like a hero,” she says. “I know that I change lives, that my work has a positive impact on many people. That’s why I’m also careful when giving out information, because I know that what I do will have repercussions.”

Caracascrisis in VenezuelaImmigrantsLatin AmericaleafmigrantsNicolas MaduroSouth AmericaVenezuela

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