Uganda

The Afghan man had fled the Taliban for refuge in upstate New York when U.S. immigration authorities ordered him deported to Uganda. The Cuban woman was working at a Texas Chick-fil-A when she was arrested after a minor traffic accident and told she was being sent to Ecuador.

There’s the Mauritanian man living in Michigan told he’d have to go to Uganda, the Venezuelan mother in Ohio told she’d be sent to Ecuador and the Bolivians, Ecuadorians and so many others across the country ordered sent to Honduras.

They are among more than 13,000 immigrants who were living legally in the U.S., waiting for rulings on asylum claims, when they suddenly faced so-called third-country deportation orders, destined for countries where most had no ties, according to the nonprofit group Mobile Pathways, which pushes for transparency in immigration proceedings.

Yet few have been deported, even as the White House pushes for ever more immigrant expulsions. Thanks to unexplained changes in U.S. policy, many are now mired in immigration limbo, unable to argue their asylum claims in court and unsure if they’ll be shackled and put on a deportation flight to a country they’ve never seen.

Some are in detention, though it’s unclear how many. All have lost permission to work legally, a right most had while pursuing their asylum claims, compounding the worry and dread that has rippled through immigrant communities.

And that may be the point.

“This administration’s goal is to instill fear into people. That’s the primary thing,” said Cassandra Charles, a senior staff attorney with the National Immigration Law Center, which has been fighting the Trump administration’s mass deportation agenda. The fear of being deported to an unknown country could, advocates believe, drive migrants to abandon their immigration cases and decide to return to their home countries.

Things may be changing.

In mid-March, top Immigration and Customs Enforcement legal officials told field attorneys with the Department of Homeland Security in an email to stop filing new motions for third-country deportations tied to asylum cases. The email, which has been seen by the Associated Press, did not give a reason. It has not been publicly released, and Homeland Security did not respond to requests to explain if the halt was permanent.

But the earlier deportation cases? Those are continuing.

An asylum seeker says she’s in panic over possibly being sent to a country she doesn’t know

In 2024, a Guatemalan woman who says she had been held captive and repeatedly sexually assaulted by members of a powerful gang arrived with her 4-year-old daughter at the U.S.-Mexico border and asked for asylum. She later discovered she was pregnant with another child, conceived during a rape.

In December, she sat in a San Francisco immigration courtroom and listened as an ICE attorney sought to have her deported.

The ICE attorney didn’t ask the judge that she be sent back to Guatemala. Instead, the attorney said, the woman from the Indigenous Guatemalan highlands would go to one of three countries: Ecuador, Honduras or across the globe to Uganda.

Until that moment, she’d never heard of Ecuador or Uganda.

“When I arrived in this country, I was filled with hope again and I thanked God for being alive,” the woman said after the hearing, her eyes filling with tears. “When I think about having to go to those other countries, I panic because I hear they are violent and dangerous.” She spoke on condition of anonymity, fearing reprisal from U.S. immigration authorities or the Guatemalan gang network.

There have been more than 13,000 removal orders for asylum seekers

ICE attorneys, the de facto prosecutors in immigration courts, were first instructed last summer to file motions known as “pretermissions” that end migrants’ asylum claims and allow them to be deported.

“They’re not saying the person doesn’t have a claim,” said Sarah Mehta, who tracks immigration issues at the American Civil Liberties Union. “They’re just saying, ‘We’re kicking this case completely out of court and we’re going to send that person to another country.’”

The pace of deportation orders picked up in October after a ruling from the Justice Department’s Board of Immigration Appeals, which sets legal precedent inside the byzantine immigration court system.

The ruling from the three judges — two appointed by former Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi and the third a holdover from the first Trump administration — cleared the way for migrants seeking asylum to be removed to any third country where the U.S. State Department determines they won’t face persecution or torture.

After the ruling, the government aggressively expanded the practice of ending asylum claims.

More than 13,000 migrants have been ordered deported to so-called “safe third countries” after their asylum cases were canceled, according to data from San Francisco-based Mobile Pathways. More than half the orders were for Honduras, Ecuador or Uganda, with the rest scattered among nearly three dozen other countries.

Deported migrants are free, at least theoretically, to pursue asylum and stay in those third countries, even if some have barely functioning asylum systems.

Deportations have been far more complicated than the government expected

Immigration authorities have released little information about the third-country agreements, known as Asylum Cooperative Agreements, or the deportees, and it’s unclear exactly how many have been deported to third countries as part of asylum removals.

According to Third Country Deportation Watch, a tracker run by the groups Refugees International and Human Rights First, fewer than 100 of them are thought to have been deported.

In a statement, Homeland Security called the agreements “lawful bilateral arrangements that allow illegal aliens seeking asylum in the United States to pursue protection in a partner country that has agreed to fairly adjudicate their claims.”

“DHS is using every lawful tool available to address the backlog and abuse of the asylum system,” said the statement, which was attributed only to a spokesperson. There are roughly 2 million backlogged asylum cases in the immigration system.

But deportations clearly turned out to be far more complicated than the government expected, restricted by a variety of legal challenges, the scope of the international agreements and a limited number of airplanes.

Mobile Pathways data, for example, shows that thousands of people have been ordered deported to Honduras — despite a diplomatic agreement that allows the country to take a total of just 10 such deportees per month for 24 months. Dozens of people ordered to Honduras in recent months did not speak Spanish as their primary language, but were native speakers of English, Uzbek and French, among other languages.

And while hundreds of asylum-seeking migrants have been ordered sent to Uganda, a top Ugandan official said none have arrived. U.S. authorities may be “doing a cost analysis” and trying to avoid dispatching flights with only a few people on board, Okello Oryem, the Ugandan minister of state for foreign affairs, told the Associated Press.

“You can’t be doing one, two people” at a time,” Oryem said. “Planeloads — that is the most effective way.”

Many immigration lawyers suspect that the March email ordering a halt in new asylum pretermissions could indicate a shift toward other forms of third-country deportations.

“Right now they haven’t been able to remove that many people,” said the ACLU’s Mehta. “I do think that will change.”

“They’re in a hiring spree right now. They will have more planes. If they get more agreements, they’ll be able to send more people to more countries.”

Sullivan writes for the Associated Press. AP reporters Garance Burke in San Francisco, Joshua Goodman in Miami, Rodney Muhumuza in Kampala, Uganda, Marlon González in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and Molly A. Wallace in Chicago contributed to this report.

Legal groups in Uganda have announced that a dozen deportees from the United States are expected to land in the country, following a deal with President Donald Trump.

On Thursday, the Uganda Law Society and the East Africa Law Society announced they had gone to court to challenge the deportation, which they called “an undignified, harrowing and dehumanising process”.

“We have approached the Courts of Law in Uganda and the region, seeking bespoke reliefs designed to arrest this patent international illegality,” Asiimwe Anthony, the vice president of the Uganda Law Society, wrote in a statement.

“Our perspective of the matter is broader than a single act of deportation. We view it as but one gust from the ill winds of transnational repression that are blowing across our world.”

Thursday’s deportation marks the first confirmed instance of deportees being transferred from the US to Uganda.

The 12 people reportedly landed at the Entebbe International Airport, some 40 kilometres (25 miles) from Kampala, by private aircraft. No identifying information was provided about the deportees.

But the deportation is the latest example of Trump’s far-reaching efforts to offload immigrants to “third countries”, where they have no personal connections — and may not even know the language.

Scrutiny of third country deportations

So far, Trump has struck deals with a number of countries to accept deported foreigners. They include at least six African countries, among them Equatorial Guinea, Ghana, Rwanda, Eswatini and South Sudan.

The deal with Uganda came to light last August. The country’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs confirmed that the agreement was a “temporary arrangement” and that priority would be given to deportees from other African countries.

Unaccompanied children and people with criminal records would not be allowed under the deal, according to the ministry’s statement at the time.

It is unclear whether Uganda received payment for its decision to accept third-country deportations.

Other countries, though, have signed multimillion-dollar deals. El Salvador was given nearly $6m to imprison deportees from the US, Equatorial Guinea got $7.5m, and Eswatini nabbed $5.1m.

There is no official estimate about the total cost of these third-country deals, but Senate Democrats in the US have estimated that at least $40m in funding has been given as incentives for countries to accept deportations.

Most of those funds, the Democrats added, were disbursed in lump sums before any deportees arrived. They also note that those funds are separate from the additional costs of the deportation flights: US military aircraft can cost $32,000 per hour to operate.

“Through its third country deportation deals, the Trump Administration is putting millions of taxpayer dollars into the hands of foreign governments, while turning a blind eye to the human costs,” Democratic Senator Jeanne Shaheen said in a February statement.

“For an Administration that claims to be reigning in fraud, waste and abuse, this policy is the epitome of all three.”

Critics have also questioned whether the countries receiving US deportees are adequately safe.

In the past, the US has criticised Uganda for “significant human rights abuses”, citing reports of extrajudicial killings, life-threatening prison conditions, and torture and other degrading treatment from government agencies.

It also noted that Uganda had government restrictions against human rights and civil society organisations, and that consensual same-sex conduct was outlawed.

According to the United Nations, Uganda already plays host to nearly 1.7 million refugees and asylum seekers, as people flee violence in neighbouring countries like the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and South Sudan.

An ‘authoritarian project’?

In his letter on Thursday, Anthony, the vice president of the Uganda Law Society, called the US deportations part of a “broader authoritarian project” that his group felt compelled to oppose.

“This development and the attendant illegalities that accompany it are reminiscent of a dark past that the global family of humanity supposedly put behind itself in the pursuit of the ideal that every human being is born equal,” Anthony wrote.

He added that US actions under Trump were paving the way for similar policies elsewhere.

“In the United States, the militarisation of society has given carte blanche to captured democracies in Africa to carry on with despotism unchecked,” he said.

Still, the Trump administration has defended the deportations as legal under the US Immigration and Nationality Act, which has loopholes for removals to “safe third countries”.

The Trump administration has also pointed to diplomatic assurances from the “third countries” in question that US deportees would not face persecution.

The “third-country” policy has, however, faced numerous legal challenges. While the US Supreme Court has largely let such removals proceed, a lower court once again ruled in February that the policy could infringe upon immigrants’ due process rights.

In the case of Salvadoran immigrant Kilmar Abrego Garcia, lawyers have even argued that his deportation to a country far from home was evidence of “vindictiveness” on the part of the Trump administration.

Uganda has been floated as one of the destinations for Garcia, who was wrongfully deported in March 2025 and then returned to the US in June, only to face deportation proceedings once more.

Trump has pushed an aggressive programme of mass deportation since returning to the White House for a second term in 2025.

At least 675,000 people have been removed under his administration as of January, according to US government statistics.

Owalai, Uganda – Martha Apolot navigates a dusty path through fields of cassava and millet under the searing hot sun. She carries a hoe on one shoulder, the blade carefully balanced, and over the other, her eight-year-old son, Aaron.

Every day, the 21-year-old mother takes Aaron to the fields where she works.

“Aaron is so weak, so I have to carry him from the house and lay him somewhere so I can work,” Martha says quietly, holding Aaron on her lap as she sits on the bare earth inside their tiny, single-room hut in Owalai, a rural hamlet in eastern Uganda.

They return home when it’s time to feed Aaron or when he has soiled himself, not when the tilling is done.

Aaron has an undiagnosed disability. He cannot walk, talk, eat solid foods or hold up his head without support. The back of his head is balding from lying down and prone to sores. He needs constant care, but Martha has no one else to look after him while she works.

Martha was 13 when a man lured her from her schoolyard and raped her. She did not know the man and never saw him again, she says. Her memories of that day are traumatic, and she goes quiet, breathing deeply and looking skyward.

Her pregnancy created an immediate rift within her family.

“My dad did not want me to come home, but my mother pleaded with my father to [let me] stay,” she explains after a long pause.

The seventh of eight children, Martha ran away, spending months at friends’ homes. Eventually, her older brother Paul, with whom she is close, tracked her down and told her their parents had accepted the situation and she could return home.

Aaron’s birth was long and complicated. After 15 hours of labour, doctors at the hospital in the city of Soroti admitted the teenager for an emergency caesarean section

Martha remembers the love she felt when she first saw her baby. “I felt so good, receiving my child. He was so handsome,” she recalls.

But Aaron was placed on oxygen shortly after birth. When he was taken away, she thought he had died. As he spent the first week of his life on oxygen, doctors warned Martha of future complications.