Tucked away in a strip mall in North Tampa, La Casa Catracha serves as a slice of home for Hondurans — almost literally. The name translates to "The Honduran House."
The smell of freshly grilled carne asada and fried plantains wafts through the air. Behind the counter, a shelf brims with Honduran snacks and trinkets. Restaurant owner Brenda Coto greets her customers with a smile.
"La gente disfruta venir a comer acá, sentirse en casa (People enjoy coming here to eat, they feel at home)," Coto said.
Since Coto opened La Casa Catracha eight years ago, it's become a staple for Hondurans and the broader immigrant community in the Tampa Bay area. People gather here to have parties, reunions and community meetings. Most of her customers are regulars, Coto said.
"Yo sentirme en familia con mis clientes, a mis empleados, a todo. Lo vemos como familia, somos una sola comunidad, juntos podemos crecer (My customers, my employees, they all feel like family to me. We've grown up together)," she said.
But in the last few months, her tight-knit community has been wracked with anxiety over the Trump administration's immigration policies.
As part of President Donald Trump's larger effort to control immigration, his administration is ending Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, for tens of thousands of immigrants from multiple countries.
The latest groups to lose that protection are Hondurans and Nicaraguans.
Noem: "Designed to be just that — temporary"
TPS is granted to foreign nationals who are unable to return to their home country because of unsafe conditions, such as armed conflict or natural disasters. The status allows them to live and work in the U.S. legally.
Honduras and Nicaragua were given the designation in 1999, after Hurricane Mitch tore through Central America, decimating the countries. It was one of the deadliest Atlantic hurricanes on record, killing more than 10,000 people and leaving millions homeless.
Those who maintained continuous residency in the U.S. since Dec. 30, 1998, qualified for TPS.
The Department of Homeland Security said conditions have improved enough for their citizens to return home after 26 years.
"Temporary Protected Status was designed to be just that — temporary," DHS Secretary Kristi Noem said in a press release announcing the end of TPS.
But groups opposing the termination point to a still-volatile economy and high crime rate. Violent crime in Honduras and Nicaragua is why the U.S. State Department has a travel advisory in place for U.S. citizens who want to visit the countries.
The National TPS Alliance's lawsuit against the Trump administration characterizes the termination as a "predetermined political decision to dismantle the TPS program."
About 50,000 TPS recipients from the two countries could be forced to leave the U.S. in September.
As a result, Coto said, many people close to her are panicking.
"Todos preocupados. ... Mucha tristeza y mucha impotencia de no poder hacer mucho por ellos. (Everyone is worried, I feel very sad and helpless that I can't do much for them)," Coto said.
Arnold, one of her regulars, said he's not ready to go back to Honduras, a country he left as a minor. He's asked WUSF to withhold his last name because he fears being targeted for his immigration status once his TPS designation expires.
Hurricane Mitch set Honduras "another 60 years back"
Arnold came to the U.S. in 1996 at age 17 without legal documentation. He was part of a wave of migration in the 1990s caused by a mix of poverty, climate change and political instability.
"There's no jobs, there's no opportunities for us whatsoever in Honduras. That's the only reason why that one day we decided to come to this country," Arnold said.
When Hurricane Mitch hit in October 1998, Arnold said it "set Honduras another 60 years back."
Arnold has built his life in the U.S. He owns a home, owns a trucking company and is the provider for his wife and three children.
He said he can't imagine leaving it all behind in two months.
"I'm not ready because I have my family here," Arnold said. "My kids, they need me right now."
Coto, who came to the U.S. from Honduras in the late 1980s, relied on TPS to stay in the country for over a decade before she obtained her citizenship through marriage. She considers herself lucky.
TPS doesn't offer a direct path toward permanent residency or citizenship.
But, Coto said, it would make sense for longtime TPS recipients — who have to abide by the law to maintain their status — to be given an opportunity to stay in the U.S. permanently.
"Después de que hemos dado la vida, nuestro esfuerzo, nuestro trabajo, nuestros taxes, que ahora nos manden para la casa porque te da la gana, nomás así no creo que sea justo (After we've given our lives, our effort, our work, our taxes, now they're sending us home just because they feel like it. I don't think it's fair)."
"No estoy listo": Scrambling for a solution
Jose Velasquez, another La Casa Catracha patron, said he's scrambling for a solution.
A Honduran national, he has lived in the U.S. since 1996 and has two children. He's made a living remodeling interiors. With TPS ending, he said his last resort is to apply for permanent residency through his daughter, who just turned 21.
There's an age requirement for U.S. citizen children who petition their parents to obtain their green card.
But the process is expensive, Velasquez said, and he's not sure if it'll be done in time. Application fees and hiring a lawyer can cost thousands of dollars.
Like Arnold, Velasquez said he's not ready to go back.
"No estoy listo." Velasquez said, "Nosotros tenemos 30 años de andar aquí luchando y trabajando (I'm not ready. We've been here fighting and working for 30 years)."
Arnold said he planned to apply for permanent residency through his son, but he's three years shy of turning 21.
He pulls out his commercial driver's license, which he uses to drive large flatbed trucks for work. For more than 20 years, the card had the word "temporary" written on it.
"I always thought that one day they were going to give us a path to have a green card," Arnold said. "I'm still hoping that something will change."
