Haitian refugee Diaza Bell stroking her pregnant belly in a temporary apartment shared with her two daughters in Auckland. Bell has been pregnant with her fourth child for eight months. Her son and husband are in Mexico and are not allowed to reunite with their families.

Sister Mara (left), 9 years old, and Sister Galandia, 11 years old, watch TV in a temporary apartment in Auckland. During their dangerous hike through the 60-mile Darien Gap, Mara was almost washed away by a turbulent river, and Guelandia said she counted dozens of bodies along the way.

11-year-old Guelandia and her sister and mother looked out the window while riding a bus in Auckland. The family originally came from Haiti and lived in Chile for five years when they heard that they had a better chance of finding a job in the United States in the summer.

Diatha Bell takes a bus on her way to Auckland Highland Hospital for a pregnancy test. Although she is grateful for the medical care she received, she does not know whether this will be accompanied by bills that she cannot afford.

Diatha Bell speaks Creole, and she encountered a language barrier when she checked up at the Highland Hospital in Oakland.

9-year-old Mara (left) and 11-year-old Guelandia (right) sisters wait for their mother in the waiting room of Auckland Highland Hospital. The girls are eager to resume their studies in the new city. The last time they were in the classroom was before the pandemic.

Diatha Bell is holding her 9-year-old daughter Mara, who is heading to Auckland Highland Hospital for a pregnancy test for Bell. Although California is considered an asylum state, asylum seekers like Bell and her daughter are not eligible to participate in many state assistance programs.

When she was eight months pregnant, sleeping on the floor of a small apartment in Auckland was too difficult for Diatha Bell.

The recently arrived Haitian immigrant and her two daughters have endured a lot since August, when they bid farewell to other families and left their home in Chile-without food for several days, walking on rugged terrain, between Colombia and Panama. Almost drowned while walking. They headed to the Texas border. Now, Bell has all kinds of pain. She worries about the impact of sleeping on the floor on the health of her unborn child.

"We decided to leave (apartment) because there was nothing suitable for us," Bell said in Creole, translated by Laure Bottinelli of Partners in Health, a nonprofit organization in Boston healthcare.

But Bell and her 9- and 11-year-old daughters have nowhere to go. Except for the people in the apartment, they don't have a soul in this new city, and their money has long been used up.

Recently arrived immigrants who end up homeless and penniless are often invisible.

Diatha Bell, 11-year-old daughter Guelandia (left), and 9-year-old Mara walked from the bus to the Highland Hospital in Auckland to make an appointment with a doctor to check her pregnancy. The doctor told Bell that she was facing a high-risk pregnancy, which Bell suspected was partly because she fell on the way from Colombia to Panama to the Texas border.

Although more than half of the homeless population in Alameda County is in Oakland, official statistics do not show how many are immigrants. Katie Haverly of EveryOne Home, an organization that monitors the number of homeless people in Alameda County, said the data was not collected at all.

However, Bell’s plight is not uncommon, says Alan Okuba Michael of the Black Justice Immigration Alliance, a community organization. "Just last week, I received a message about a (homeless) Haitan family in Oakland," said Okuba Michael. "They have problems in all aspects-housing, food and education."

If the safety net for the homeless has worn out, it is already dilapidated for those who have recently crossed the border and have no documents or seek asylum. They are not eligible for Section 8 housing assistance, CalFresh or any cash assistance. Families like Bell risked their lives to travel to one of the richest countries in the world, only to find themselves in a new humanitarian crisis.

When she was about to leave the crowded Auckland apartment, Bell called a volunteer in the local pantry and explained her situation. This is a long shot, but maybe he can help her.

The life of the family changed one day in 2016. Eight men stormed into their home in Haiti, pointed their guns at them, and took every cent of Bell's oranges.

Fearing that they would become a regular target of local gangs, Bell and her husband went to Chile, a country that Haitians can enter without a visa. But without work visas, it is difficult for them to support their families. Then, throughout the summer, life in Haiti became more unstable due to the president's assassination, natural disasters, and increased gang violence, and rumors that Haitians could find jobs in the United States spread. Many people go to the southern border of the United States.

The family only has enough money for Bell and her daughters to make an expensive trip northward from Chile. The plan is for Bell's husband and son to follow them after they save more money. Therefore, in early August, Bell left San Diego with her two daughters.

The journey from Chile took six weeks and was mainly bus travel through 10 countries. But once their caravan transported them to the infamous Darien Gap, a 60-mile pristine rainforest separating North and South America, the real danger began then. Bell's 11-year-old daughter Guelandia described the difficulty of walking through dense jungle and muddy slopes.

"It's muddy, it's raining, the path... is small," she said in Spanish.

Guerandia said they must walk along the edge of steep cliffs, cross turbulent rivers, and beware of gangs that plunder immigrants like them. Her pregnant mother fell many times. Galandia often wanted to cry, but didn't.

"We must be strong to get through the storm," she said.

Diatha Bell, a refugee from Haiti, and her daughter, 11-year-old Guelandia (left) and 9-year-old Mara stand outside their temporary apartment in Auckland. Bell and her daughters started a painful journey from their home in Chile in August. They traveled for six weeks and risked their lives to a city that was about to become homeless.

Somewhere before Panama, Bell's 9-year-old daughter Mara and another child in the group were washed away by the raging river. Mara learned to swim in Chile and was able to hold on to a rock until the immigrants formed a human chain to rescue her. Bell said that another child drowned.

When the family reached the Texas border in mid-September, it joined an unfolding crisis. Approximately 15,000 other immigrants arrived in Del Rio, Texas at the same time, and armed agents detained them in a makeshift camp next to the river separating the United States and Mexico.

"There were many, many Haitians," Bell recalled. "This place (is) crowded with people."

She and her daughters found a place under the Del Rio Bridge, Bell said they stayed there for a week without food and water. After complaining about her stomach aches for a few days, Bell said that she and her daughters were finally allowed to enter Texas on September 23. She said that the authorities gave her a notice asking her to report to the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement Service within 60 days and to allow her family to be investigated. A bus took them to the taxi stand in Del Rio. Since then, the family has relied on itself.

A spokesperson for the Customs and Border Protection Agency did not comment on the case, saying that most asylum-seekers who reached the border were detained until asylum officials could rule on their claims.

Before getting on the bus, Bell called one of her contacts in the United States—the Oakland cousin's uncle. He paid for the flight from Texas to the Bay Area for his family, and Bell and her daughters ended up sleeping on his floor.

A few weeks passed until Bell was able to see the doctor. Finally, in October, the doctor at Oakland Highland Hospital determined that she was at a high risk of pregnancy and told her to come back for monitoring every few days. Although she is grateful for the medical services, she is not sure whether she will receive a large bill soon. Next, Bell began to look for housing.

She found a way to participate in the Emeryville Citizenship Assistance Program, where volunteer Mary Maultsby-Jeffrey conducted an admission interview. Maultsby-Jeffrey tried to provide resources for the family by calling the Alameda County Social Service Center, local community organizations, and even the county's 211 hotline, but the call was not reachable.

"I think it will be much easier," Maultsby-Jeffrey said, adding that "211 is not helpful at all."

This is a problem that Michael Okuba of the Justice Immigration Black Alliance knows well. "Whenever asylum seekers come to our office, we have to tell them... there is no way to support asylum seekers and there is no plan," he said.

He added that finding housing for these people is almost impossible.

“Renting is not easy, because every landlord requires (immigrants) to provide meaningful income to support them in paying rent,” Oqubamicael said. "They are in trouble."

Although Bell and her family may be eligible for federal resettlement assistance, so far, no one has been able to help her figure out how to obtain these services. At the same time, her husband and 4-year-old son started their journey a few weeks later. They arrived in Mexico but were not allowed to enter California. So Bell and her daughters are browsing their to-do list alone.

In addition to ensuring stable housing and enrolling girls, Bell also hopes to find a lawyer before her first immigration court date in February. Since she has not been able to obtain government resources so far, she has to rely on the kindness of strangers to prevent her and the girls from sleeping in the park.

Volunteers in the pantry quickly raised some money from his friends and booked a 9-night Airbnb for his family in Auckland. He also helped them build a GoFundMe that has raised nearly $10,000-Bell hopes she can use this money to pay for rent, living expenses and any medical expenses in one of the most unaffordable areas in the United States.

Mara and Guelandia are eager to start school, and the Oakland Unified School District has programs for young people without a fixed address and young people seeking asylum here. The last time the girls were in the classroom was before the pandemic. But Bell is not worried. She said that her daughters are very smart, after all they have passed, public schools will become a breeze.

Kevin Fegan, a reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle, contributed to this report.

Dipa Fernandez is a staff writer for the San Francisco Chronicle. Email: deepa.fern@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @deepafern

Deepa Fernandes reports on immigrants and immigrant communities for the San Francisco Chronicle. She joined The Chronicle during an award-winning career in broadcast journalism, and she has reported for NPR, BBC and the Australian Broadcasting Corporation all over the world. Fernandez was named the Best Radio Reporter of 2017, 2018, and 2019 by the Los Angeles Press Club. She won the Los Angeles Emmy Award for her coverage of KCET in Los Angeles. She has a master's degree in journalism from Columbia University. Follow her on Twitter: @deepafern