Méline Laffabry Uncategorized

The perils faced by migrants in the shadows of Kasserine

“Come my friend. Come rest” – a seemingly inviting call, resonating with warmth and reassurance, yet concealing a dark truth. This friendly-sounding phrase was overheard by our journalist, Eléonore Plé, during the summer of 2023. The dangers particularly affecting sub-Saharan African people in exile reveal themselves on the tracks of the train line that winds its way from Algeria to Tunisia in the Tunisian Kasserine region,  where men wait for migrants who’ve just crossed the border.

By Méline Laffabry (edited by Şebnem Adıyaman)

When migrants reach Kasserine, they embark on the final leg of a journey often spanning several years. Many of them recount the warm welcome extended to them by a portion of the local population.  Journalist Eléonore Plé witnessed around 20  residents emerging from their homes and rushing towards migrant groups to provide them with food, water, and shoes. However, things do not always go as smoothly.

For those who answer the call of the men along the railway, reality proves to be far from welcoming. Our journalist vividly recalls a tense atmosphere during her observation. While she was on the side of the rails in the dark of the night, she noticed that the men waiting for the migrants kept looking at her, suggesting that her presence was causing discomfort or agitation.

Plé spoke with three migrants aged 18, 25, and 30, who had fallen victim to the threats of this spot. Recounting their harrowing experiences, one described a vicious attack by ten assailants armed with machetes and slingshots. “Ten of them came and attacked us. My friend was badly hurt, bleeding from the head, and they took everything we had. We tried to fight back but they were too many and had machetes and slingshots”. Such assaults on migrants, especially those from sub-Saharan regions, have become alarmingly frequent in Tunisia.

From poverty to dream

Kasserine is a governorate (or province) located in central-western Tunisia. It is known for its strategic location, as it serves as a gateway between Tunisia and Algeria. The region is characterised by its rugged terrain, with mountainous landscapes and valleys, making it both picturesque and challenging to traverse.

Economically, Kasserine has faced significant challenges, with high levels of unemployment and poverty affecting its population. This economic hardship has contributed to social tensions and created an environment where illegal activities such as smuggling can thrive as means of survival for some individuals.

Moreover, Kasserine’s strategic location has made it a crucial transit point for migrants and refugees. Less than 300 km away from Sfax, where migrants embark on boats to reach Europe, the region serves as a gateway for individuals wanting to cross the Mediterranean, adding layers of  risks, dreams, and desperation to its already intricate socio-economic fabric.

In February 2023, Tunisian President Kaïs Saïed made controversial remarks suggesting a conspiracy involving migrants from sub-Saharan Africa. He insinuated that their influx aimed to alter Tunisia’s demographic landscape and undermine its Arab-Islamic identity. “There exists a criminal plan to change the demographic composition of Tunisia, and certain individuals have received large sums of money to grant residence to sub-Saharan migrants,” stated the head of state, as quoted in a presidential communiqué.

“This discourse has exacerbated a wave of violence (…) from Tunisian citizens who have violently attacked black migrants, and it has also sparked waves of arbitrary arrests,” explained Salsabil Chellali, director of the Human Rights Watch office in Tunis, in an interview with the French daily Le Monde. These statements sparked outrage both domestically and internationally, escalating racially-charged tensions and triggering violent acts against black migrants. Human rights organisations condemned the inflammatory rhetoric, highlighting its role in stoking xenophobia and violence. Saïed’s remarks underscored the challenges of migration and identity facing Tunisia, while also prompting broader discussions on racism and discrimination within the country.

Perfect conditions for exploitation

These circumstances have facilitated the emergence of a scheme to exploit the journey of individuals in exile. Some local inhabitants take advantage of migrants arriving in the region by tracing their path along the rails from Algeria. Under the guise of hospitality, the men awaiting the migrants present themselves as friendly locals offering assistance with the inviting phrase, “Come my friend. Come rest.” with the aim of luring them aside in order to strip them of their belongings.

Plé’s investigative efforts extended over a three-week period in Tunisia, where she meticulously traced the path migrants take upon entering the country until their departure by sea. Throughout her inquiry, she gathered and verified numerous testimonies from migrants who had been attacked in the Kasserine region, shedding further light on the perilous conditions faced by those on this arduous journey.

This article is part of a the multimedia series “Tunisia, land of Passage”, a project in collaboration with Specto Média. Each Tuesday, during six weeks, we will publish a podcast episode, a contextualisation article, a profile and an infography.

Listen to episode 1 below or click here.

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média.
Author: Eléonore Plé
Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé
Sound production: Norma Suzanne
Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon
French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli
English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola
Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne
Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média.
Author: Eléonore Plé
Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé
Sound production: Norma Suzanne
Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon
French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli
English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola
Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne
Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

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Amine Snoussi: Tunisia has become Europe’s coastguards

In an interview with aidóni, journalist Amine Snoussi denounces the authoritarian drifts of President Kaïs Saïed and his instrumentalization of the migration issue for political purposes. He sheds light on the opaque financing granted by Europe to Tunisia in exchange for outsourcing border management, which results in documented human rights violations by numerous organisations.

By Méline Laffabry (edited by Rogerio Simoes)

Since 2011 and the revolution that initiated the establishment of a representative democracy regime, Tunisia has benefited from substantial European funding, notably to support civil society and democracy. “Tunisia is living on a drip feed in terms of IMF loans and grants,”  says Amine Snoussi, a Tunisian journalist and author.

However, since the transition to an authoritarian regime in 2021, funding has been declining. “There are increasing difficulties in financially supporting Tunisia, as there is no longer an interest in saying that we support the only democracy in the Arab world. The regime’s solution has been to condition aid on stricter migration regulation.”

Amine Snoussi highlights the opacity surrounding the use of these funds. He points out the lack of control and transparency in the management of funds allocated to the Tunisian Ministry of the Interior, responsible for border management.

Financing controversial policies

Tunisia’s migration policy, under  President Kaïs Saïed, has hardened in recent years. “There has been  indeed a reality of anti-Black racism in Tunisia long before [the rise to power of Kaïs Saïed],” says Snoussi “It was a racism omnipresent among individuals, in administrative contexts, in the renewal of residence permits, in contexts of social violence, disdain. But it was not at the top of the State. And now, that’s what is different.”

In a speech on February 21, 2023, the Tunisian president declared that “hordes of illegal immigrants from sub-Saharan Africa” had arrived in Tunisia and were responsible for “violence, crimes, and unacceptable acts.” He added that it was an “abnormal” situation that was part of a criminal plan designed to “transform Tunisia’s demographic composition” and turn it “into an African state that no longer belongs to the Arab-Islamic world”. The speech was denounced by numerous international organisations and sparked a wave of violence in the country.

Accepting European funding for border control allows Kaïs Saïed to finance his own migration policy. “The idea is to prevent sub-Saharans from even coming to Tunisia. It’s to turn Tunisia into a hostile place for migrants, like Libya, so there isn’t even an attempt to pass through Tunisia to reach Europe,” says Snoussi.

European “diplomatic cynicism”

Amine Snoussi cites the example of police raids carried out in the summer of 2023. “We still need to contextualize what happened last summer. These are police officers coming to fetch Blacks from their homes, just because they are Black. They don’t know if they are irregular. They don’t check anything, they put them on buses and dump them in the desert. Without water, without anything.” 

The journalist points to what he considers lack of reaction outside the country. “There weren’t that many condemnations. There wasn’t that much criticism from European countries. There wasn’t concern. There wasn’t a questioning of relations.”

He denounces  what he sees as cynicism of European countries that finance Tunisia’s repressive migration policies and turn a blind eye to human rights violations. He points that European nations have already collaborated with authoritarian regimes in the past, in Tunisia and elsewhere.

“They just saw someone who was capable of doing the dirty work for them. Why do we accept to do business and finance illegal things? I don’t know, but it’s not new. In any case, under Ben Ali, for example, France, Europe, knew that the Ministry of the Interior was torturing people, imprisoning opponents, sometimes killing them. That didn’t prevent them from funding programs for the Tunisian police, in equipment, technology, etc.”

This has been happening with Europe’s relationship with Egypt, he says. “Europe knows very well that Egypt has a number of political opponents in prison that defy any competition. These are figures worthy of a medium-sized city in France. There is no political freedom. There is mistreatment of opponents. That doesn’t prevent France from making it its main ally in terms of arms sales, in terms of sharing diplomatic intelligence, sharing intelligence, etc. I think it’s more general. There is a diplomatic cynicism that has settled in. As long as it serves our interests, it’s not a big deal.”

“Transfer of sovereignty”

The current situation, amounting to an outsourcing of border management by Europe, is not just a transfer of financial means, according to Amine Snoussi. He says it is also, and above all, a transfer of responsibility.

“Outsourcing borders also makes borders them more difficult to access. It’s about training Tunisia to be more aggressive on its borders, to be more rigorous, and above all to have coastguards capable of ensuring that migrants end up in the water. [That these coastguards] are ready to do this to protect Europe from the arrival of migrants. This, in fact, is a transfer of sovereignty because de facto, politically, it is not up to [Tunisia] to manage Europe’s borders. And especially, it is a major problem for the rest of Africa.

“We find ourselves in a situation where one country agrees to play Europe’s coastguards on another continent, with neighbours turning a blind eye, and a whole system in place.”

Why would this system serve European interests? “I think there are quite a few liberals and people from the European political majority who say, come on, let’s move the problem away. Let’s put it in Tunisia,” says Snoussi. And like that, it won’t be visible anymore. The problem is that migrants exist, we see them. That’s what’s scary. When there is media coverage of SOS Méditerranée, of migrants dying at sea, etc., it’s problematic for Europe, it’s problematic for its image, problematic for the political credibility of the people leading it.  If we give the responsibility, and then we can blame the Tunisian state, Westerners win on both sides.”

 Amine Snoussi believes the  goal is to place responsibility on others. “Handing over responsibility for migration to private organisations, let’s not lie to ourselves about what that will lead to. We’ve seen it, even with organisations that are not private, like Frontex. The humanitarian catastrophe that is Frontex… I don’t think the objective is to be more discreet. I think the idea is not to assume responsibility.”

“Saying ‘it’s not us’ is always powerful when it comes to migration. Because in the Mediterranean, everyone is responsible. It’s not just the countries with a maritime border. It’s all of Europe that is responsible. Because they never wanted to harmonise the reception policy, they never wanted to relax visa conditions, etc. The idea is not to assume political responsibility. It’s to entrust this role to another institution and not be responsible for the deaths.”

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

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“Migrants try to leave Tunisia as quickly as possible,” says local human rights activist

Romdhane Ben Amor, a committed activist and spokesperson for the human rights organisation FTDES , paints a turbulent and challenging picture of his country with respect of its treatment of foreigners fleeing conflict or poverty.

By Marina Vidal (edited by Rogerio Simoes)

The year was 2008. In Redeyef, the Tunisian South-Western town   Romdhane Ben Amor comes from, a social movement against the Ben Ali regime started to spring. Back then, the longtime dictator had been in power for two decades and the Tunisian Revolution was still an idea,  three years away from succeeding in ousting Ben Ali.

“The movement was repressed by the Tunisian state, the Ben Ali regime. Some young people died, and hundreds or more were imprisoned,” recalls the activist. “During that period, I was attending many events and I also started blogging. At one of  those events in 2008, I got to know the founding members of FTDES, who were there as activists, human rights defenders, trade unionists.”

In  the Tunisian Forum for Economic and Social Rights (FTDES), Romdhane found an ideological match, and it wasn’t long before they all started working together. “Then came the revolution, they set up the forum, and I was invited to join them as a member.”

Even though he initially worked on communication issues and protest movements, with time Romdhane became more and more interested in migration topics and started focusing his work on the country’s changing reality in terms of demography. “I am now continuing my studies as a demography researcher, and the reason I chose this topic is because of the way it intersects with the migration issue.”

But the migration topic in Tunisia is not an easy one to study or work with, even more so in recent times. In the 15 years  since Romdhane first started his activism, Tunisia has witnessed different scenarios in terms of migration, shifting from a country of origin to a land of passage.

 “The country has been transformed since 2020. A lot of factors have contributed to this transformation, and there have been many changes. There’s the external factor,  which is more to do with the dynamics of migration and European policies, which have led to the closing of the eastern route, or the route through Libya, and have indirectly pushed migrants to seek other routes like Tunisia,” he explains. “But there are also internal factors, linked to Tunisia’s political, economic, and social crisis.”

Being active on the field has showed Romdhane how Tunisians themselves are also directly influencing the situation. “Tunisians, of course, are also making a major contribution,  especially through the creation of these networks of smugglers. It’s an informal economy that has affected the most disadvantaged, the most marginalised people, that is to say, the border with Algeria, the border with Libya, and the rural areas. Even the Sfax region.” 

“There´s also the policy of President Kaïs Saied, who has created a climate of hatred against migrants. Migrants used to take the time they needed to prepare their migration plans, but Kaïs Saied’s actions have led thousands of them to try to leave Tunisia as quickly as possible, whatever the conditions.” Ever since the leader’s infamous speech in February 2023, in which he referred to the migrants’ situation as “unnatural” and made xenophobic and racist comments, navigating the terrain of migration advocacy has become increasingly arduous.

Fear of reprimand

During the day, Romdhane works as a primary school teacher, and at night, or any spare hour he gets, he contributes to FTDES’ work by reading, writing, attending meetings, or coordinating the different departments in the organisation. “With my other occupation, it was already hard for me to dedicate time to it, but things are starting to get difficult in Tunisia, to work on migration… Everything changed, especially after the president’s racist speech.”

As a spokesperson for FTDES, Romdhane used to be able to talk about social, civic, and environmental issues without fear of reprimand. Not anymore. “We were also critical of state policies, of the various governments, but we were never subjected to pressure or attacks. Things are different in Tunisia now.”

He says the collaboration between his country and the European Union is failing to help manage Tunisia’s situation and, potentially, even intensifying the problem. “There is a lack of transparency, which is also a strategic choice by the Tunisian state to not talk about cooperation projects related to externalising borders. […] And also on the part of European, French or Italian authorities, there is not enough communication, especially on the security aspect and the resources that are made available for Tunisia to use.” 

On the other hand, and partially as a result of the externalisation and the policies adopted by the Tunisian Ministry of the Interior, organisations say that violations of people´s rights in the country have been increasing every day. “We´ve seen migrants being deprived of their rights; they don’t have the right to work, the right to accommodation”

Whether it be directed to refugees, asylum seekers, students, or migrant workers, Romdhane sees examples of this violation on a daily basis. “Now we see migrants and refugees grouped together in public spaces. In Tunis, in front of the Tunisian agencies, or in a public garden in front of the UNHCR offices. In the Sfax region, they gather under olive trees, forcibly evacuated from the town, and pushed around by the National Guard. The south of Tunisia, a place surrounded by sea on three sides, has turned into a sort of detention camp peninsula.”

Romdhane Ben Amor’s words paint a turbulent picture of Tunisia, an image he hopes to change by continuously advocating for the rights of those who are maginalised by society and  do not have a voice in his country. To him, working with FTDES is a means to that end. 

–

About FTDES: The Tunisian Forum for Social and Economic Rights (in French Forum Tunsien pour les Droits Economiques et Sociaux – FTDES) is a Tunisian organisation founded in 2011 to fight for people’s economic and social rights at the national and international level. FTDES is working on the following themes: labour rights, women’s rights, environmental rights, and migrant rights.

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

 

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Waves of constraint: questions raised over Tunisia’s Coast Guard approach to migration

The plight of tens of thousands fleeing across the Mediterranean in search of a better life in Europe is well documented.  A staggering number perish during the journey, giving rise to the grim moniker – “the bigger cemetery of migrants of the world.”  However, another facet of this crisis, though less spoken of, has been raised  by testimonies and documented by NGOs.

 

By Ata Ahmet Kökçü (edited by Méline Laffabry)

On 9 March 2023, an incident was reported by Alarm Phone. The organisation, initiated in October 2014 by activist networks and civil society actors in Europe and North Africa, operates as a crucial lifeline for refugees in distress in the Mediterranean Sea. That day, they reported “Tunisian Coast Guard stealing engines and watching from a distance,” and shared the testimony of an exile. “We were born on the wrong side of the ocean and we are suffering. We have 6-month-old babies with us. The Tunisian coastguard took the engines to sell them for money.”

Alarm Phone isn’t alone in these accusations. Witnesses and human rights organisations, including the Tunisian Forum for Social and Economic Rights (FTDES), Oxfam, and Borderline Europe, all level similar charges against Tunisian authorities. These include brutal and severe measures such as ramming boats, physically assaulting occupants, and disabling vessels by removing their engines, leaving migrants adrift at sea. These practices   have been reported by people in exile who tried to cross the Mediterranean, families of missing migrants, and Tunisian activists to Eléonore Plé, founder of Specto Média, while she was investigating the reality of people in exile in Tunisia in the summer of 2023. 

Wall of silence

Tunisian authorities have denied the accusations or provided reasons which, according to them, explain why some of those measures have been taken.

Despite mounting evidence and international outcry, European governments also maintain a stance that aligns with Tunisian official narratives. They claim engine removal is a safety measure to facilitate rescue operations — a claim  criticised by many as misleading. Critics, including Tunisian and European humanitarian organisations, argue that these practices constitute human rights violations. They accuse EU countries of complicity by continuing to support the Tunisian coast guard while downplaying the gravity of their actions. “The Tunisian coastguard’s partners, especially Germany and Italy, are adopting Tunisia’s narrative,” said the Tunisian FTDES chairman Romdhane Ben Amor. “We see this as complicity in the concealment of attacks on migrants.”

The situation is further complicated by the perilous state of press freedom in Tunisia, particularly since 2021. “You know journalism in Tunisia today is both difficult and very risky,” confided a Tunisian journalist who wished to remain anonymous for safety reasons. “Since 2021, we are not allowed to work on the ground and many journalists are now jailed because they reported  stuff. What you said about migrants is what we all say, but we are unable to prove it because we can’t do the necessary investigations.”

An uneasy partnership

Despite the accusations against the Tunisian coast guards and numerous critics about the impact EU financial support for border control in Tunisia, the European Union has sought to bolster Tunisia’s capacity to manage migration and the challenges it brings. On 22 September 2023, in line with the Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) on a strategic and comprehensive partnership, the EU announced significant financial support for Tunisia. This included €60 million for post-Covid recovery, requested by Tunisia on 31 August, and an additional €67 million operational assistance package on migration.

Tunisian President Kais Saied has rejected EU funds, although €60 million had already been injected into Tunisia’s treasury, with €13 million  given to the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and €8 million to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). However, other funding has been retained, such as the amount of over €13 million allocated to the “Strengthening the Tunisian Coast Guard Training Pillar” project funded by the European Union and implemented by the German Federal Police and the International Centre for Migration Policy Development (ICMPD) until June 2026.

The relationship between the EU and Tunisia is complex, with EU officials noting the importance of direct contacts in conducting relations. Meanwhile, evidence collected by Search and Rescue (SAR) NGOs and observers paints a grim picture of the treatment of migrants by Tunisian coastguards. Reports of physical violence, the use of firearms, engine removal, and boat collisions contribute to the harrowing risks faced by migrants at sea. Furthermore, according to humanitarian organisations, Tunisia’s delay in establishing a formal SAR (Search and Rescue) zone, crucial for conducting rescue operations beyond its territorial waters, highlights the urgent need for comprehensive and humane migration management solutions.

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

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“My nephews arrived safely in Lampedusa. We never heard from them again”

Since 2011, tens of thousands of people have  perished while attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea to reach the shores of the European Union, a catastrophe that has left thousands of families in mourning. Less known is the drama of many migrants whose fate is still unclear, having disappeared after arriving in European soil. Among those desperately seeking answers and fighting for justice is Imed Soltani, a mechanic in Tunis. His personal storyplaces him at the forefront of a poignant struggle for truth and dignity for the victims.

 

By Méline Laffabry (edited by Rogerio Simoes)

In March 2011,  Imed Soltani’s two nephews, Belhassan (23)  and Slim (27) Soltani,  tried their luck to cross the Mediterranean. “The whole family knew they wanted to leave for Europe to improve their standard of living.”

Slim and Belhassane  are among tens of thousands of Tunisians who left their country and took to the sea to try to reach Europe since 2011. Only between late January and September 2011, more than 27,000 had arrived on the Italian island of Lampedusa. “We know our boys arrived in Lampedusa but disappeared there on 1 March, 2011.”

“At that time, there was a lot of noise about arrivals in Lampedusa. There were many videos. Italian and European media were talking about it every day. Italian residents were not happy. The Prime Minister at the time, Silvio Berlusconi, went there and announced that he would leave no trace of Tunisians  and return the island to Italians,” explains Imed.

Indeed, Silvio Berlusconi announced drastic and rapid measures. “The government has prepared a plan to evacuate, to free the island, within two to two and a half days. Within forty-eight to sixty hours, Lampedusa will be inhabited only by Lampedusans,” the prime minister declared during his visit on 30 March, 2011.

In search of their boys, Imed and his family then began their “struggle for justice and truth.” By gathering several families of the missing in search of answers, Imed founded the association “Terre pour tous” (Land for All). “We chose this name because we know that if there is not land for all, there is no justice. If we do not fight, the number of deaths and disappearances in the Mediterranean will continue to increase.”

The association operates without any financial support. “We don’t even have a bank account. We want to keep a free voice and total freedom of speech. If we accept money from the European Union, we can no longer clearly say what we think and denounce what is happening.”

In 2015, the families obtained the opening of an investigation commission. “We sent all the videos and call records of our boys proving that they had indeed arrived in Lampedusa. We have testimonies and videos showing that large boats, on 1, 14, and 29 of March, and 29 of April, brought immigrants but we never heard from them again. We don’t know where these boats were going. There is something wrong. We spoke to the Italian Ministry of the Interior in Rome where there is an office dealing with missing people. They never gave a clear answer to Tunisian families.”

“An undeclared war”

Imed minces no words. For him, these deaths and disappearances are a direct consequence of European policies. “EU policies are an undeclared war. There are agreements between the European Union and Tunisia and between Italy and Tunisia that make our country the border guard of Europe. We do not agree with this and we fight against it. These policies have turned the Mediterranean into a cemetery and we want the EU to take responsibility.”

“A month ago, in March 2024, we found the bodies of six boys buried in Italian graves with no names, only identified by numbers. They had left Tunisia in October 2023 and had not given any sign of life after arriving in Lampedusa. This is not the first time that in searching for our missing persons, we find their bodies in Italian cemeteries. After DNA tests, we were able to pressure the government to have them repatriated and buried in Tunisian graves with their names where their families can come to mourn.”

Imed is also sensitive to the fate of sub-Saharan exiles passing through Tunisia to reach the Mediterranean. “We stand in solidarity with sub-Saharans. Many of them are in Sfax. They live in camps, in fields, under trees. This is unacceptable.”

To protect Tunisians and sub-Saharans and do justice to those for whom it is already too late, Imed and his association work tirelessly. . “All these problems are due to the closure of borders and the non-respect of international laws and human rights. We just want respect for these laws. Respect for the humanity of each person. That’s our fight.”

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

 

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“Tunisia is a beautiful country, but there’s no work”

Life in Europe does not mean Nabil has forgotten his home country, Tunisia. He has fond memories, particularly about the early days of the Jasmine Revolution. The challenging economic situation in the North-African nation, however, makes him say that he might never return.

 

By Anne Mie Ryding (edited by Sebnem Adiyaman)

Well past midnight, in an empty, dimly lit blues bar located in inner Copenhagen, an unusual group barges in. One of the people is 25-year-old Nabil*, far away from what he used to call home, Tunis. Tonight he is accompanied by three British girls and an older man with graying dreadlocks, square sunglasses, and a guitar case in his hand. Nabil takes a seat in front of the small stage, observing the impromptu jam session that has begun, along with the few people still lingering in the late hours. 

Nabil remembers Tunis, the capital city in Tunisia, where sub-Saharan migrants gather outside of the International Organization for Migrations office. It was also where violent clashes took place as the Jasmine Revolution began, back in December 2010. The uprising protested poverty, corruption and political repression in Tunisia, and inadvertently inspired a wave of civil resistance, later named the Arab Spring. 

“We made history”, Nabil says with a smile, before he takes another drag of his cigarette. It was indeed historical. After the protests began around 2011, longtime president Zine Al-Abidine Ben-Ali was forced to step down, officially ending his 23 years of power. Bringing down an authoritarian regime through the power of the people’s collective voice is certainly a point of pride for the revolution, indicative of progress in human rights in Tunisia, as well as in many other parts of the Southwest Asia and North African region where resistance took place. “Yeah, so much better in terms of human rights, but the situation got much worse financially and economically”, Nabil says. 

Today it seems the values and progress of the Jasmine Revolution are slowly being dismantled under the current president Kais Saied’s rule. Although Saied is increasingly criticized by the Tunisian population, Nabil believes he is still the lesser evil, “He’s not good, but with lots of bad people, you choose the less bad.” He lights another cigarette and goes on, reflecting on the upcoming presidential election in Tunisia, “He’s a good man. He’s trying to figure out… to figure some kind of solution for the country. I don’t think that he will make a big difference, but he’s trying.” 

Not enough jobs, not much hope

Saied was elected back in October 2019 on the promises of strangling corruption, and saving Tunisia from its economic crisis. As Nabil explains, the economic situation is mainly the reason why he left Tunisia, and did his Master’s in mechanical engineering in Germany, where he now lives. “They just fucked up everything,” he continues. “Actually, Tunisia is a beautiful country, but the political thing, there is a little bit… There are a lot of problems there. I left Tunisia because of the financial situation because there is no work. When you find work, it’s a low salary.” According to the International Labour Organization, the overall unemployment rate in Tunisia hit 15.8% in September 2023, while Tunisian youth are hit the hardest, with an unemployment rate of 38.5% for ages 15-24.

Besides the internal political unrest, Tunisia has been dealing with the influx of sub-Saharan migrants journeying to the country. Transformed into a transit country, over 12,000 migrants and asylum seekers are registered by UNHCR in Tunisia.  Nabil mentions the impact of the arrival of migrants from other parts of Africa as one of the reasons why he has left his home country. “When they came, they took low-salary jobs. For example, for an hour, it’s like €10 for one hour. It’s just an example. It’s not really €10. But they took €5 or less. That’s why, they took all the work in Tunisia..” Shaking his head, Nabil repeatedly describes the relations between Tunisians and the migrants as a “catastrophe”. 

He sheds light on a vicious cycle that has been established. With the arrival of exiles in Tunisia, a workforce cheaper than local residents is introduced. Employers take advantage of the great precariousness of people in exile to halve the salaries they would usually pay to Tunisians. As a result, the latter find themselves unemployed, since the positions are occupied by a precarious community forced to accept less favourable working conditions. This dynamic breeds numerous tensions and frustrations between Tunisians and those in exile.

Although Nabil misses his family, who still live in Tunis, he does not see himself living in Tunisia again. At least not under the current circumstances, “It’s a better future here. I love my country, but going back to live there, no, I don’t think so. Maybe with time, it’s going to change, but actually, no. I just came here”, he says with a grin. 

The bar is still full of life, with music from his newly-found companions, changing from blues to reggae. Nabil arrived in Germany just a year ago, after a strenuous journey to get his visa. “It’s like, not impossible, but… It’s bad. Hard, really hard. It took one year to get my visa to Germany. (…) Maybe it’s because of the German system: a lot of paperwork, bureaucracy, or maybe because of all of the people who want to leave Tunisia.” 

With his new life, Nabil does not hold back on experiencing the world and is traveling to Berlin, Warsaw, and Barcelona in the coming months. But no matter where he goes, one thing might never change when he thinks about home; “The people in Tunisia are so cool. They are really, really cool. I think they are the coolest. That’s not because they are my people, no. I’m just telling the truth.”

*The name has been changed to preserve the anonymity of our source.  

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here. 

 

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média. Author: Eléonore Plé Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé Sound production: Norma Suzanne Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

simoesrogeriogmailcom Uncategorized

Hardship in Tunisia breeds tension between locals and migrants

Whilst struggling Tunisians decide to leave the country through irregular channels due to high unemployment and inflation, those arriving from abroad suffer even more severe challenges and discrimination. Neither a National Migration Strategy nor a National Institute for Refugee Protection has been capable of protecting those passing through Tunisia or trying to adopt it as their new home.

By Nesreen Yousfi (edited by Tijani Abdulkabeer)

Geographic location, political turmoil, and serious economic challenges have placed Tunisia at the heart of migration flows towards Europe. The North African country has become both a significant source of migration and an essential path towards richer countries for people fleeing conflict, persecution, and poverty in different parts of Africa and Asia. Recent numbers provide a clear picture of the situation. According to the World Bank, Tunisians were the main nationality to arrive in Italy via the Central Mediterranean Route between 2019 and 2023.

Furthermore, data collected by Arab Barometer in 2022 reveal that 45% of Tunisians want to emigrate, more than double the 2011 rate (22%). Of those who want to leave the country, 41% are willing to do so without the appropriate documentation. Similarly, Tunisia is a common passage for sub-Saharan African migrants trying to reach Europe. The World Bank says that in the first eight months of 2023 44% of irregular migrants going to Europe had travelled from Tunisia to Italy.

Only 11% were Tunisian; the remaining were sub-Saharan. Whilst the migrants’ option of using the country as a stepping stone highlights its proximity to Italian islands, the decision taken by Tunisians to migrate irregularly, in spite of the high risks of fatality during the perilous journey, reflects their desperation to improve their quality of life.

Political turmoil and a struggling economy

More than 13 years have passed since the young Tunisian street vendor, Mohamed Bouazizi, took his own life in response to the confiscation of his merchandise – and his livelihood – by authorities, police brutality, and subsequent state neglect. Only 26 years old, Bouazizi had spent most of his life working to support his family, selling fruits and vegetables in the streets of Sidi Bouzid, central Tunisia. His tragic self-immolation was followed by street demonstrations against authoritarian rule and socio-economic conditions.

This further led to the Jasmine Revolution and the wider Arab Spring. In contrast to other countries with popular uprisings in the region, Tunisia was able to take much larger strides towards democracy. After the autocratic President Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia on 14th January 2011, the country established a new constitution and shifted towards a multiparty system. Nevertheless, the economic situation has remained dire. As of the fourth quarter of 2023, the national unemployment rate is at 16.4%, but even higher for women, at 22.2%.

Higher education graduates, the majority of whom are between 20 and 29 years of age, are particularly touched by unemployment, with 23.7% of them without work as of the second quarter of 2023. Female  graduates are more than twice as likely to be unemployed. There are also deep regional inequalities between the rural inland and the move developed coastal areas. Partnered with a long-term drought which has raised food inflation to 13.9%, these trends of high unemployment, in addition to gender, age, and regional disparities, are on par with the precarious living conditions which motivated the Jasmine Revolution. 

The tourism sector, which contributed 4.5% to Tunisia’s GDP in 2019, has suffered from fluctuations via the revolution, the 2015 Islamic State (ISIS) attack on tourists, the COVID-19 pandemic, and spillover from the civil war in neighbouring Libya. The industry had a relatively fast recovery from the initial drop in tourism after the terror attacks and has now also returned to pre-pandemic levels. However, the decline of the Tunisian Dinar, in tandem with wider structural issues in the sector, has limited its potential revenues. As the situation bites harder, the country has turned heavily on foreign debt, which in 2022 alone was close to 90% of its GDP.

Having been able to repay 2023 debts, Tunisia still faces challenges securing more external funding. According to the Ministry of Finance, debt servicing is expected to increase by 40% in 2024 compared to 2023. To stabilise Tunisia’s economy, in 2023 the African Development Bank Group (AFDB)  suggested the country should adopt a medium-term strategy to reduce sovereign debt, implement a plan to restructure public enterprises, and reduce its external debt. It also advised the country to negotiate a plan with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to restore fiscal sustainability, in order to attract more investment.

Migrants from sub-Saharan Africa suffer discrimination in Tunisia. (Photo: Eléonore Plé)

Hard for Tunisians, harder for foreigners

While local citizens turn elsewhere for survival, foreign migrants have either decided or been forced to remain in Tunisia, despite initially wanting to reach Europe. One hurdle preventing their moves has been the Memorandum of Understanding between the European Union and Tunisia to cooperate on border management. In his study on migrant protection in Tunisia, urban studies researcher Adnen El Ghali notes that “EU funding to Tunisia is conditional on the country playing its part in stopping migrants reaching European soil”.

This ultimately turns Tunisia into a permanent destination for many, as the Tunisian government has augmented its role in managing irregular migration. Although Tunisia established the National Migration Strategy (2012) and the National Institute for Refugee Protection (2018) to defend migrant and refugee rights, the reality indicates the country has been falling short of carrying out that duty. Tunisia’s Labour Code legislates that work permits expire annually, ultimately restricting their access to long-term employment. Since many migrants overstay their visas, they are then unable to renew their work and residency permits.

This results in several migrants holding irregular status in the country, unravelling into a chain of dead-ends, as without residency permits, migrants do not have access to basic amenities like public health care, travel, or defence against exploitative employers. Labour exploitation of sub-Saharans in Tunisia is hence rampant. An absence of work permit and irregular status leads them to end up in informal employment (e.g., through a verbal contract).

It is possible, for instance, that many sub-Saharan Africans are finding work in the hospitality sector which has an unusually high informal employment rate (46% in the second quarter of 2019). Such working conditions ultimately leave migrants at a much higher risk of exploitation at work.  On top of that, sub-Saharan migrants and refugees are at increasing risk of state and non-state violence. Although Tunisia’s economic problems pre-date the growing migrant population, discourse in the sociopolitical sphere has shifted towards scapegoating sub-Saharan migrants and refugees for the country’s social woes.

Despite the adoption of an anti-racism law in 2018, President Kais Saied has been fanning the flames of racial tensions, claiming last year that the influx of sub-Saharan Africans is a plot between opposing parties and foreign nations to change the demographic composition of Tunisia – despite the fact that foreign migrants make up around 0.5% of the population, a significant number of whom come from Syria.  This government’s rhetoric, regarded as racist and condemned by most of the international community, has led to an escalation in violence against sub-Saharans. When undocumented migrants are subject to violence in Tunisia, their lack of civil status discourages them from coming forward as they are afraid of being arrested, or being subject to police corruption and extortion, a dynamic which echoes the tragedy of Bouazizi in 2010.

In a podcast with Specto Studio, Filippo Furri (anthropologist and member of the Migreurop network), underlines the violent expulsion of migrants since Saied took the reins of the presidency. These concerns are confirmed by a joint statement from the UN agencies UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, and IOM (International Organisation for Migration) last summer, reporting that hundreds of migrants had been abandoned in the desert along the Algerian and Libyan borders. Many are even forced across the borders where they are faced with Algeria’s military or Libyan militias who violently refuse them entry.

This chain of offloading responsibility for migration from Europe to Tunisia, and then to neighbouring Algeria and Libya, leaves sub-Saharan migrants in a society already struggling to provide for itself. Stuck in Tunisia and scapegoated for the country’s wider socioeconomic issues, sub-Saharans ultimately become the most vulnerable to the country’s poor economic conditions, as their unrecognised status exposes them further to violence and exploitation.

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

 

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média. Author: Eléonore Plé Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé Sound production: Norma Suzanne Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

 

This multimedia series is produced in collaboration with aidóni for translation, and producing the articles and profiles.

Méline Laffabry Uncategorized

‘They were scared. So, I’ve decided to shut up’, says Eléonore Plé about interviewing exiles in Tunisia

After spending months in routes used by people in exile in the Balkans in 2022, Specto’s Eléonore Plé wanted to see with her own eyes the conditions of people from sub-Saharan Africa crossing into Tunisia with the hope of reaching Europe. “It is about the people, not numbers”, she says, in this interview about her project ‘Tunisia – Land of Passage’, supported by aidóni.

By Rogerio Simoes (edited by Méline Laffabry)

 

“This is the main subject of today, the main subject of this century.” This is how French journalist Eléonore Plé, the founder and director of Specto Media, explains why she chose to focus on migration in her most recent editorial projects – and she is not exaggerating. The movement of people, mostly from parts of the world facing violent conflicts, environmental disasters, and extreme poverty towards richer nations in the globe’s Northern Hemisphere, is defining the 21st century. In June 2023, the United Nations (UN) recorded 110 million displaced people worldwide. A new record…

Eléonore wanted to help change the way this momentous subject is portrayed and discussed, especially in the countries where the exiles arrive at the end of their journey. This is why she went to Tunisia, a country used by people of other African origins as a basis from which they try to reach Europe. 

Her main goal was to tell human stories, to seek to understand the motivations behind the departures, and to shed light on the realities of the journey towards a hoped-for better future. “For me, it was a way of creating a new narrative, a new way to tell those stories”, she said in a conversation with aidóni. “There is a lot of disinformation, a lot of fear around this subject, and deshumanisation [of people in exile].”

If each migration story is unique and results from a multitude of factors, Eléonore explains that exploring this subject necessarily means investigating oppression, even if it manifests in different forms. “For me, it was a way of understanding oppression better. When you work with migration, you can cover sexual oppression, economic oppression, political oppression. That’s why there is a strong link between migration and human rights.”

The railway crossing the city of Sbeïtla, about a hundred kilometers from the Algerian border.

“It’s about the people”

Eleonóre’s trip to Tunisia and its borders became Specto’s project “Tunisia, Land of Passage”, produced alongside aidóni. With so many numbers, graphics, and theories about migration from Africa already produced, promoted, and analysed, Eléonore focused on human stories.

“It’s about the people, not numbers, experts,” she says. “I wanted to go back to the basics, to tell people’s stories. We don’t usually hear those people. When people speak about migration, they always speak about politics, economics, numbers, but almost never listening to the people. When they do, it’s not in a good way, it’s through a narrative of crisis, catastrophe.” After people’s voices are properly heard, she says, the numbers, the context, and other views are added to complement the editorial content she produces around the subject.

Between November 2021 and March 2022, Eléonore travelled through several countries in the Bálkans to explore the conditions in which people were moving with the dream of a life in the European Union in their heads. The harsh conditions, particularly at the borders between countries such as Bulgaria and Turkey or Serbia and Hungary, made her want to discover more about the people who decide to attempt a journey to Europe despite the numerous dangers they encounter on their journey. Her attention then turned to Tunisia. 

Indeed, this North African country serves as an informal gateway to Europe for many African exiles. Despite the increasing difficulty of crossing its borders, numerous sub-Saharan individuals take their chances with the aim of reaching the Mediterranean. The political and economic motivations behind the closure of Tunisian borders, as well as their financing, are more complex than they may seem.

Her trip to Tunisia, in August 2023, included different stages of any migrant’s journey from that part of the world towards Europe. At the country’s border with Algeria, she witnessed the struggles, distress, and fatigue of those who had already travelled thousands of miles, from countries such as Burkina Faso, Cameroon and Sierra Leone, and had just managed to enter a new phase of their perilous journeys.

Silent questioning

With her friend and fixer Amin, whom she had met during her trip in the Balkans while he was working to document pushbacks at the border between Greece and Turkey, she first tried to get close to the border with Libya. That goal proved too dangerous, so she headed towards Algeria, focusing on that border instead – “a bit easier”, as Eléonore describes. 

That was where she met the focus of her journalistic enterprise: the people dreaming of a life in Europe, escaping violence, persecution, and destitution. “It was very emotional, very hard, to meet people at the border with Algeria who had just crossed. Some of them had no shoes, water, women were alone with their babies, their children.” People refrained from speaking, opting to walk silently out of fear of patrols that could have sent them back across the border. The urgency of their survival made journalistic interaction challenging, requiring respect for their pace of escape.

“I’ve decided to shut up. Because, how could they speak? How could they give their testimony about what happened at the border when all they wanted was to drink something and then move on, and move on?” The connections and interactions between her and those people had to be carefully established, in order for trust to be secured and maintained throughout those conversations. “First thing was: they were scared of me. A few women told me, ‘I don’t know you, maybe you want something from me. I’ve just been raped by guards, I’ve just been sexually assaulted.’ They were very scared, so I thought I should just shut up and respecting their choice not to provide testimony.”

“I saw fear, survival, but also, with some of them, solidarity.” Eléonore recounts how a group of ten men ran to hide in the pistachio fields when they saw her approaching with Amin. They thought they were either the police or thieves. She had to approach them, explain that she was a French journalist, and show her face with the light of her phone for some of them to agree to talk to her. 

“Step by step, one guy started to chat, then a second one. Two hours later, we were laughing, we were speaking about lots of things. Some were still quiet, just wanting to move forward, but with some it was funny.”

In the region of Kalaat Senan, just a few kilometers from the Algerian border.

Helping create empathy

Those migrants’ stories, their conditions, and the hurdles they faced in their journey towards a better life – regardless of the reasons why they decided to start it in the first place – led Eléonore to a conclusion: she will have to continue producing stories around the subject because the issue will get worse before it gets, one day, a bit better.

“I cannot stop this work, that is what I’ve learned. Because this problem is huge and wont get any better. In my opinion, the way states are dealing with exiles will worsen. The policies of externalization and militarisation will deteriorate and lead to more and more tragedies and obstacles.” Upon her return to France, she wanted to quickly travel elsewhere to obtain other stories of migrants and their journeys. “For me, Tunisia was just the beginning.”

Eléonore describes herself as “pessimistic” when it comes to possible solutions that would either lead to either the accommodation of individuals in exile in more prosperous places, with dignity and hope, or the reduction or resolution of the causes that drove them to take to the road in the first place. “It’s not with a podcast series that we can change anything, I know.”

Works like her, nevertheless, can make a difference, even if on a quite small scale. One thing she would like to help create with the “Tunisia, A Land of Passage” series is “empathy”. “I just want to help create feelings in people’s hearts and put something new in their minds, so they can look at those who are on the move as human beings.” If that is achieved, Eléonore will be reassured that sitting down with people in exile to hear and record their stories is the right thing to do.

Pictures by Eléonore Plé, Tunisia, 2023

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

 

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média.
Author: Eléonore Plé
Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé
Sound production: Norma Suzanne
Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon
French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli
English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola
Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne
Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

 

This multimedia series is produced in collaboration with aidóni for translation, and producing the articles and profiles.

 
Méline Laffabry Uncategorized

Mohammed’s journey of survival and hope

In the streets of Sfax, a bustling Tunisian city perched by the Mediterranean, Mohammed is one of thousands of foreigners who view this location as a ticket to Europe. Dreaming of a better future in a richer nation, the Sierra Leone national shares his story, which includes a previous failed attempt to cross the Mediterranean and the hurtful experience of racism.

 

By Méline Laffabry (edited by Rogerio Simoes)

“First of all, my name is Mohammed Jawara. I’m from West Africa, Sierra Leone. I’m 36 years old. I left Sierra Leone in 2019  because of the country’s conditions. Things are hard there. That’s why I decided to come back to this. Because I’ve been in this world before.”

This world, as Mohammed calls it, is the world of exile. He recounts his initial attempt to reach Europe via Libya in 2017 and 2018, a venture that ended in disappointment and forced him back to Sierra Leone.

In 2019, he decided to go on the road again. He shows us a map on his phone: “I left Sierra Leone for Guinea-Conakry. This is my hometown, Kabbalah. So from there, I moved, to come to this side, Farana.  Between Kabbalah  and Farana there are many villages, so it’s not too difficult to cross on that side. But you know, each country has its own police checkpoint. When you come to the border to enter Guinea, you meet the Sierra Leone checkpoint and then the Guinea checkpoint on the other side of the border. When you pass this last one, you enter Guinea.”

Mohammed mainly travelled alone,  but sometimes had to join a group. “To enter Mali, we were more than 15 people. From Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, all of us trying to enter Mali. We also had children with us, two-year-olds and six-month-old babies.” He emphasises the difficulty of crossing into Mali from Guinea due to stringent border controls, stating “You know, when you’re facing that border, everybody’s trying to survive because to enter Mali from Guinea is not easy. The border is too tight.” He explains that bribes are necessary to cross. “Whatever checkpoint you pass by on that highway, you pay money before you pass.” The ones who cannot pay  have to “sneak inside” Mali on their own, which is far more challenging.

“You spend three days in the Sahara desert in the back of a pickup van. That’s where people are dying. We were 36 in the back of the van. If you fall down, they will leave you. The driver will never stop.”

Venturing into the north of the continent, particularly in attempting to enter Algeria, proves perilous for migrants like Mohammed. “From Timbuktu [Mali] to Algeria, that’s the longest distance and it’s the scariest one,” Mohammed  says. “If you have money, you can take a car. You spend three days in the Sahara desert in the back of a pickup van. That’s where people are dying. We were 36 in the back of the van. If you fall down, they will leave you. The driver will never stop.” Surviving this treacherous journey only leads to further challenges at the North African borders. Mohammed describes encountering armed groups: “There are some Arab  lads. We don’t know who they are. They have their guns, they have their own government. Those are the guys who are killing people there, they are beating people and taking everything they have.”

Having spent six months in Algeria, Mohammed sheds light on the harsh realities faced by migrants in  that country. “I was working in a construction company. Sometimes our boss would not pay us, he would owe us more than three months of salary. That’s why people leave and go to Morocco or Libya.” Financial insecurity is compounded by the spectre of racism, as Mohammed explains: “If the Algerian government says they will deport blacks, no matter where you are living, they will come for you. They will raid any place where black migrants live. Through that process, some people die. Some people jump from skyscrapers to escape. They bit us and then deported us to the Nigerian border. They leave you in the Sahara desert between Niger and Algeria.” 

He claims to have also faced racism from local residents.  “In the street, when they see us, some people use their clothes to block their nose. But I believe that I’m taking good care of myself. We are not smelling, you know. But racism, it’s not easy. I love my colour. I love this colour and I’m proud of myself.”

Reflecting on the broader picture of migration in North Africa, Mohammed paints a grim portrait of desperation and survival. “I don’t know about the coming years, but for now, people are suffering to enter this side. Between these borders, starting from Mali to Algeria to Tunisia, people are suffering. In fact, people are dying in the desert. It’s a game of chance. Everybody is fighting for himself. You can only trust your loved ones or your friends. You guys will fight together. That’s how the road works. Until today in Tunisia, that’s how we survive.” 

Navigating the streets of Sfax, a bustling Tunisian city perched by the Mediterranean, proves to be a daunting challenge for Mohammed and thousands of others who view it as a launching pad towards Europe. “We are thousands. People are begging in the streets, there is no work here. Some people are nice and give us some food. We want to leave but without money there is no way… I want to go to France and build a life there.” Mohammed shares, yearning for a better future across the seas. Despite the uncertainty looming over him,  he remains steadfast in his resolve. “Inshallah. And I know I will do it. I know I will do it. I’m just waiting for my time.“

This article is part of the special series “Tunisia – Land of Passage”, produced by Specto Media and aidóni. Listen to the podcast here.

 

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média.
Author: Eléonore Plé
Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé
Sound production: Norma Suzanne
Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon
French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli
English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola
Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne
Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media

 

This multimedia series is produced in collaboration with aidóni for translation, and producing the articles and profiles. To discover the series in English, visit aidóni.

 
Méline Laffabry Uncategorized

Kamal and his exile life: “I am a migrant, and it is not easy.”

At the age of 19, Kamal has already travelled for years, crossing several countries in Northern Africa since having left his native Cameroon. Using Tunisia as a stepping stone, with a better life in Europe in mind, he recalls the harsh and life-threatening conditions of his journey.

By Méline Laffabry (edited by Rogerio Simoes)

Kamal is not yet 20 years old. Nevertheless, he has already spent over 7 years on the exile route, in what he calls “clandestine” living. When we met him in August 2023, he had been in Tunis for a bit over a month. He recounts the borders, the difficulties, and the goals he never loses sight of.

“My name is Kamal. I am a migrant, and the situation is not easy.” Throughout the conversation, the 19-year-old paints a stark picture of exile. “I left Cameroon very young, at 12 or 13. I crossed Niger, Nigeria, Algeria, Morocco…” Sitting near the makeshift camp where he lives in the streets of Tunis, he shares his story.

Kano, Abuja, Sokoto, Zinder, Maradi, Oran, Tlemcen, Guezzam, Tamarasset, Assamakka, Tebessa—city names he traversed unfold, outlining his journey to the Tunisian capital. The path he describes, far from a straight line, is filled with obstacles, detours, back-and-forths, to the extent that even he loses track of them. He is sometimes unable to recall how long he stayed in a place. A constant in this uncertain journey: violence. The violence of the police, the trials to endure, and the ever-present threat of death.

“To cross the Niger-Algeria border, you have to walk through the desert. There’s no other option. The car drops you off 1,000 km from Algeria. We are in groups of 35, 40, 50, sometimes 70. It depends. I know many people who left and never gave a sign of life again. Those who survive this crossing, it’s Allah’s will. The majority of people die; bodies fall in front of you. It’s very difficult. You would like to help them, but you can’t. I can save my life, but not others’. I have to survive.”

Facing police violence is also a reality: “Many people have got their arms or legs broken, and women have miscarriages. When the Moroccan or Tunisian police arrest you, they beat you and strip you. They take your phones and bring you back to the other side of the border you just crossed. Some people are taken away and never seen again. At least the Algerian police only search you and even give you a bit of bread and water before returning you to the border.”

CARTETUNISIE_EP1_EN

Kamal has endured all this with the goal of settling in Europe. But once reaching the Tunisian coast, one must embark on “flocas,” small fishing boats, in the hope of crossing the Mediterranean Sea.

The sea, Kamal has taken it. Once. “A boat sank next to us. You see people sinking, and you can do nothing. If you have a life jacket and lose it, it’s over for you too. Fortunately, our captain knew how to handle the helm. Because, when you leave from the beach, the sea is calm, but afterwards, it’s a mess. We tried to continue, but the engine stopped, and we had to call the Tunisian coast guards to come get us. It was in May 2023.”

Sometimes these events are so traumatic that some lose their sanity. Kamal recounts, “Some went crazy. Here, there’s one who went mad. He’s been through too much. He’s in the streets of Tunis, and people think he’s been mad from birth. But it’s everything he’s seen that made him mad. It’s hard to overcome certain stages. You lose courage. You think about giving up everything and starting from scratch.”

Despite all the trials and violence, starting from scratch is not an option for Kamal. “Reaching Europe is no longer a goal; it has become an obligation. I think about myself, my family, and that’s it. That’s why I took to the sea, even if it was very risky. I  had no choice. Otherwise, what do I do? Do I stay here, sleeping on a mattress? What will my mum eat if I do that? And my little sister? I need her to go to school, to have access to the education I couldn’t have. I want to take her on carousel rides, help my mum, my parents, my two grandmothers. 

The former goal which became an obligation also includes a dream. “I dream of visiting Marseille because, in my heart, I’ve always been a Marseillais. I’m a football fan. But after that, I want to go to Amsterdam and Berlin. I know the situation is complicated and it will be difficult. But I think about my mum and my little sister; they are my source of motivation. And I also want to do it for myself. To have a good quality of life, to grow, to start my own family.”

This article is part of a the multimedia series “Tunisia, land of Passage”, a project in collaboration with Specto Média. Each Tuesday, during six weeks, we will publish a podcast episode, a contextualisation article, a profile and an infography.

Listen to episode 1 below or click here.

This multimedia series is produced by Specto Média.
Author: Eléonore Plé
Investigation and production: Eléonore Plé
Sound production: Norma Suzanne
Graphic identity: Amandine Beghoul and Baptiste Cazaubon
French version dubbing: Yamane Mousli
English version dubbing: Isobel Coen and Julian Cola
Editing: Hugo Sterchi and Norma Suzanne
Recording studio: Radio M’S

To discover the series in French, visit Specto Media