Residents of the desert hamlet of Tornillo, near the Mexican border, express outrage at the child detention camp in their backyard

This article is more than 2 years old

This article is more than 2 years old

This article is more than 2 years old

The white buses and vans swing off the highway and slow but do not stop as they trundle through the dusty, sunbaked streets of Tornillo. They have no markings, no sirens and you cannot discern the passengers, only silhouettes.

They pass the cotton and alfalfa fields and bleached trailer homes of Aguilera road and vanish into a US border post ringed by a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. When the vehicles emerge and return to El Paso they are empty.

No one in this Texas desert hamlet sees or hears the several hundred children – migrants separated from their parents – who now inhabit a tent city which every day swallows new arrivals.

Donald Trump’s immigration policy may be in chaos but this detention camp a stone’s throw from Mexico was built quickly and with a certain skill. It is all but invisible except by air.

Some residents were outraged, saying infamy was being visited on their town.

“It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening,” said Kathleen Bretz, 23, a mother of two boys. “It’s like we’re stepping back a hundred years with people put in this little camp, locking them up like animals. It’s twisted and shameful. It’s not right.”

Claudia Eliaz, 35, a mother of three, said there was no justification for breaking up families. “It’s just horrible. And that it’s happening here in Tornillo …” Her voice trailed off.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘It’s like we’re stepping back a hundred years, locking them up like animals.’ Photograph: Sam Morris

Aerial images show federal authorities anticipated the consequences of the president’s “zero-tolerance” policy for illegal border crossings.

Behind fences and tall mounds of dirt workers erected about 20 large tents on a parched field owned by the Department of Homeland Security. Each tent has bunkbeds and capacity for 20 people. There is a medical clinic, a reception centre and reportedly a cinema, all under canvas. Armed guards with body armour stand vigil around the perimeter.

Pictures show the detainees – teenage boys – forming single-file lines and playing football in temperatures exceeding 37C (98.6F).

A simulacrum of camping except for the fact they are de facto prisoners and, so far, voiceless. Media have not been granted access, nor a delegation of about 20 mayors, including Bill de Blasio of New York and Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles, which was turned back on Thursday.

It added up, said Berta Ortiz, 48, a Tornillo resident, to disgrace. “This is bad for the children and bad for the town. We’re associated with this.”

After the mayors left just three activists remained at the border post entrance, craning to glimpse the tops of tents. “A refugee crisis right here in the US. And our government doesn’t want to let us see them,” said Jill Manrique, 33, who flew in from Chicago with her mother.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Jill Manrique protests outside the temporary detention centre for migrant children in Tornillo, Texas. Photograph: Rory Carroll/The Guardian

Trump signed an executive order on Wednesday to end the separation of families but the fate of the boys in Tornillo – among the approximately 2,300 children recently separated from parents under “zero tolerance” – is unclear.

“There’s no indication about what will happen to those families that are already separated,” said Melissa Lopez, an immigration attorney who has been contracted to provide legal services to the Tornillo detainees. “We don’t know how long the children will be there.”

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Adolfo Lopez, another attorney who represents detained parents, said he operated in an information vacuum. “I had to tell parents I don’t know when you’re going to see your children again. They were devastated. It was something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

The sheriff of El Paso has barred deputies from working off-duty at the camp lest it damage his force’s community relations.

However, not all Tornillo residents disliked the camp.

Savaz Arranda, 72, a nut farmer, reckoned air-conditioning and regular meals were an upgrade from what the children were used to. “Not bad, right?”

Ralph Wright, director of New Life Border Ministries, which cares for special needs children, agreed. “It sure is better than where they came from. And unless they just let them loose in the country I don’t know what other option there is.”