KINSHASA, Democratic Republic of the Congo — None of them expected to end up in Kinshasa. On April 17, the U.S. government deported 15 people to the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, a deeply impoverished country long scarred by conflict.
The group — men and women from Colombia, Ecuador and Peru — is the first to arrive under a little-publicized migration agreement arranged with the Trump administration.
“They took us, they put us on a plane, and they chained us by our hands and feet,” one Colombian man said, sitting on a plastic chair in a rundown hotel near Kinshasa’s airport. He said they did not learn their destination until they were already aboard the plane.
NPR interviewed five of the Latin American deportees; they are not being named because they said disclosure could endanger them. All said they faced threats if returned to their home countries but preferred returning home to staying in Congo, which they described as dangerous and poor. Several said they were expelled despite ongoing U.S. court cases about their right to remain.
At the hotel, the group receives regular meals but endures water outages that can last days. Rooms are infested with rodents and mosquitoes. They are allowed to leave but are discouraged by security staff from going out — effectively isolated in a country where they have no ties and whose official language, French, they do not speak.
Two deportees said they had not been vaccinated against yellow fever before being sent from the U.S.; the disease is endemic in Congo, along with malaria. “I know that Congo has an armed conflict, with a yellow fever outbreak,” said an Ecuadorian man, explaining why he did not want to stay.
Much of eastern Congo, roughly 1,000 miles from Kinshasa, has been plagued by violence for decades, a legacy of regional wars from the 1990s and early 2000s. Rebels from the Rwanda-backed M23 group have seized large areas since launching an insurgency in late 2021 and run parallel administrative structures in the east. Armed conflict also exists nearer to Kinshasa, about 70–100 miles northeast. Kinshasa itself is a megacity of more than 15 million people, according to the World Bank, where most residents struggle to get by.
“Outside is another world,” said one Colombian woman at the hotel, noting none of the group spoke French.
While more deportees from the U.S. are expected, almost no details of the U.S.-Congo migration deal have been disclosed. Congo is not the only African country to make such arrangements with the Trump administration; Uganda, Rwanda, South Sudan and Eswatini are among nations that have also agreed to accept third-country deportees as part of a broader U.S. immigration strategy.
On April 17, Congo’s government said migrants would only stay temporarily and that the U.S. would cover costs. But it remains unclear how many people will be sent, what will happen to them while in Congo, or how long they will remain. The deportees NPR spoke with said they have been offered no credible alternatives other than returning to their home countries. The U.S. State Department declined to comment on details of diplomatic communications with other governments.
AfghanEvac, a nonprofit that helps resettle Afghan evacuees, says the Trump administration is also considering sending up to 1,100 Afghans to Congo, many of whom assisted U.S. forces in Afghanistan. President Trump told reporters last week he was not aware of that plan.
In Congo, the arrival of the Latin Americans and the possible arrival of hundreds of Afghans has provoked controversy. Protesters burned tires and marched in Kinshasa carrying banners opposing what they called “Afghan mercenaries,” following a sit-in outside the U.S. embassy. Many Congolese view the deal as insensitive: roughly one million Congolese are refugees abroad, and conflict has internally displaced nearly seven million people. Opposition politicians criticized the policy; Delly Sessanga, an opposition figure, challenged President Félix Tshisekedi, asking why Congo would be turned into a “dumping ground for U.S. immigration and security policies.”
Back at the hotel, the deportees face uncertainty and fear. Many lack money and passports. The International Organization for Migration is assisting the group, and some remain in contact with U.S. lawyers. An Ecuadorian compared the experience to human trafficking, saying they had been forcibly expelled. “I’m here in a place where I can’t do anything,” he said. “I want to return to my country.”
One Colombian woman said their legal situations were complicated. “We don’t know what will happen to us,” she said.
For now, the deportees remain in limbo — thousands of miles from home, in an unfamiliar country where they feel unwelcome and unsure what comes next.