Q REPORTS (NicaraguaInvestiga) Yadira Hernández arrived in Costa Rica in June 2023, fleeing the harsh sociopolitical turmoil in Nicaragua. Despite over 20 years of working with civil society groups, she struggled to find formal work here.
With two teenagers to care for and just US$2,000 saved—most of which vanished in the first month on rent and essentials—she ended up taking a tough job cooking at a Chinese restaurant.
“We felt the shift instantly. No home, no food, no work. It was just me and my kids, and we had no idea what would come next,” Yadira shared.
Without legal paperwork or immigration status, she earned less than the minimum wage—around 9,000 colones a day, about US$18 for a 12-hour shift. That barely covered living expenses in one of Latin America’s priciest countries. So, the family made a painful choice: everyone would look for work, and the teens would drop out of school.
“Survival was the priority,” Yadira says.
She began reaching out to other exiled Nicaraguans, hoping to build connections and learn how to navigate life in this new place. That’s how she found the Pinolera Fair — a monthly event run by exiled Nicaraguan women, with occasional help from humanitarian groups. It’s a marketplace where small entrepreneurs sell Nicaraguan goods and food, and it’s been a big hit, sparking fresh business ventures.
Yadira remembered an accident years ago in Nicaragua that left one hand immobilized. Her doctor had suggested crafts as therapy, so she learned to make handmade soaps. What started as a hobby became her new hope.
Seeing so many women reinvent themselves here inspired her to launch her own business and leave behind the grueling kitchen job.
Yadimell Cosméticos was born, offering natural soaps, shampoos, creams, and other beauty items.
Melissa Guerrero’s story is similar. She runs Freyda, a craft beer brand that’s gained traction in Costa Rica over two years. Before starting the business, Melissa looked for jobs in her field—communications—but found doors closed.
“I graduated from the Central American University in Nicaragua, but after it was shut down in 2023, finding work here was brutal. One place told me the market was saturated and discouraged me—felt like xenophobia,” she says.
After facing rejection repeatedly, Melissa returned to her fledgling beer business despite fears about stricter laws and permits in Costa Rica. The learning curve was steep—she had no suppliers, no market knowledge, and had to figure out everything from scratch. Back home, her brand was small but growing, with a loyal following and clear supply chains.
Here, even basic supplies like honey and bottles were hard to find, and permits were tough to get. Financing was an even bigger hurdle. “Credit is tough to get because we’re not nationals and don’t have all the paperwork,” Melissa explains.
She’s received some seed money from NGOs, but it’s not nearly enough to scale. She dreams of investing in equipment and building a distribution network to meet growing demand—and maybe even hiring other Nicaraguans who face similar job barriers.
María René Mercado leads the Red de Mujeres Pinoleras, the group behind the Pinolera Fair. The fair is crucial for new entrepreneurs starting from zero, creating a community and connections among Nicaraguans who come looking for a taste of home.
“We miss our country deeply, but this fair has opened a path for us. Organizations have supported us, and slowly, we’re growing,” she says.
María René came to Costa Rica during the 2018 Nicaraguan crisis. She worked domestic jobs until 2020, when the pandemic hit and she was out of work. She started selling homemade bread and traditional Nicaraguan dishes to neighbors and family. Word spread quickly, and soon her food business, “Variedades La Concheña,” was running with help from her mother and kids.
Money is tight. Banks won’t lend to them, and even seed grants are hard to come by. Credit cards were denied too, despite the high costs. Still, her business has grown. In 2023, they added catering, which now keeps them afloat.
Besides the Pinolera Fair, María René and others get invited to other markets to boost sales. Some organizations offer training in marketing, cooking, and business models, but these efforts barely scratch the surface. There are hundreds of women entrepreneurs with needs that go unmet.
Claudia Vargas from the Arias Foundation for Peace highlights the barriers migrant women face in Costa Rica. Degrees and qualifications from Nicaragua often go unrecognized; the process to get them accepted is long and bureaucratic. By law, Costa Ricans get hiring priority over foreigners.
Women also juggle caregiving and household duties without family support, making job hunting even harder. Many turn to starting their own businesses, but lack the networks and skills needed to compete in Costa Rica’s tough market.
“The women need skills like product photography, social media marketing, but these take time and resources to learn,” Vargas says. Many don’t have access to these trainings, and without them, sales stay low.
Costa Rica’s immigration system is another hurdle, full of bureaucratic delays. Many asylum seekers wait years without immigration documents, which blocks basic things like opening bank accounts or getting loans.
About half of asylum seekers can’t apply for credit due to paperwork issues. Vargas calls for more coordinated efforts between organizations and lawmakers to change this.“These survival businesses aren’t real businesses—they’re just ways to get by. To grow, these women need better financing and support,” she says.
Linda Núñez, a Nicaraguan researcher, recently helped with a study on forcibly displaced Nicaraguan women and children in Costa Rica. The research confirms what many women already experience: Costa Rica’s refugee programs offer little beyond basic status and work permits. There are no real economic integration plans.
Work permits require contributions to social security, which many can’t afford. No training exists on how to get permits or loans from Costa Rican sources. Without that, starting a business is nearly impossible.“We need national policies focused on economic development for refugees. Otherwise, the crisis will only get worse with high refugee unemployment,” Núñez warns.
She stresses Costa Rica’s international duty to support refugees fully. Migrants do contribute to the economy by paying taxes and renting homes, despite perceptions otherwise.
Yadira recently got a big boost — the International Human Rights Network Europe (RIDHE) approved funding for her to take a soap-making course, while her daughter gets training in acrylic nails. These courses cost over a thousand dollars each and would have been out of reach otherwise.
María René will also get training in catering through the same program, which aims to train women, close the digital divide, and mentor entrepreneurs on registering businesses and gaining economic independence.RIDHE partners with over 40 organizations in Costa Rica, but the program’s reach is small—only 220 women have benefited in two years. More support is crucial.
Since 2018, over 280,000 Nicaraguans have sought refuge in Costa Rica, about 75% of the country’s asylum claims. Half are women. Many arrived before the crisis, meaning nearly 800,000 Nicaraguans in Costa Rica need help.
RIDHE provides seed funding between US$300 and US$1,200 for women to start businesses. It’s a start, but not enough.“We’re restoring rights lost through forced displacement: labor, education, economic independence. International support is vital,” says RIDHE’s Latin America director, Winnye Bernard.
This article is a translated and adapted version of “Mujeres nicas en el exilio: La difícil tarea de pasar de negocios de subsistencia a emprendimientos formales” originally published on NicaraguaInvestiga.com. You can read the original Spanish version here.