‘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.

 

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.

 

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

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