“Europe’s Broken Asylum System: Conditions for Migrants in Tunisia Further Deteriorate”, Der Spiegel
By Heiner Hoffmann and Selene Magnolia (Photos) in El Amry, Tunisia, 12.10.2023
The EU is trying to outsource its migration problems and has entered into a partnership with Tunisia. But the situation there has grown dire, particularly for migrants from sub-Saharan Africa. Now, even the Tunisians themselves want to get out.
A black SUV with no license plates and no lights speeds down the main road, passing other cars in the dark, despite oncoming traffic. The other vehicles have no choice but to get out of the way as best they can. Everyone here in El Amra knows what’s going on: The migrant smugglers are on the move. They pick up their customers from the olive orchards, loading them up as quickly as they can before taking them to the seaside. There, makeshift boats welded together out of thin sheets of metal are bobbing in the water, each set to be packed with around 50 people and take them to a brighter future. Or to their deaths.
The migrants are hoping to make it to Lampedusa, where the number of arrivals has risen dramatically in recent weeks, resulting in overflowing reception camps.Global Societies
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The past several days have been windy, the sea rough. But today, there is no wind at all, and the waters are calm – for how long, nobody knows. Plus, winter is coming, and time is running short. So everyone is prepared: the smugglers, the migrants and even the police. Cars belonging to special police units, their windows barred, race down the potholed roads toward the harbor, where they check passersby and inspect boats. It’s a game of cat and mouse – but in this one, there are only losers.
For the past several weeks, the village of El Amra, just up the coast from the Tunisian industrial city of Sfax, has been a perfect spot to observe all that is wrong with European migration policy. El Amra has a permanent population of around 6,000 people, but currently, the town is overwhelmed with 10,000 people from all across Africa, crowding into the cafés during the day or begging for water on the streets before retreating to the olive groves at night. They all have one thing in common: They want to leave El Amra behind and make their way across the Mediterranean to Europe.
Tunisia was long considered relatively safe for migrants from elsewhere in Africa. Whereas refugees in Libya would often be locked up and even tortured by criminal gangs, or abandoned in the desert in Algeria, they were able to work in Tunisia, even if most of the jobs were low-paying. Now, however, the situation in Tunisia has worsened significantly, with the government itself fomenting hatred of the migrants. At the same time, many Tunisians now want to leave their country because of an ongoing political crisis and a struggling economy. Nevertheless, the EU is focusing on close cooperation with Tunisia to stem the flow of migrants – despite the fact that the country finds itself sliding down the slippery slope toward autocracy.
Confiscated boats at the police station in Sfax Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Nyabiey Tut never actually wanted to go to Europe. She left South Sudan when she was 12 because of the civil war there. “I wanted to live somewhere in safety, go to school and find a job,” she says. Initially, she went to Cairo where she found a job as a domestic servant, working 12 hours a day. In the evenings, she attended secondary school and was close to graduating. She dreamed of becoming a gynecologist so she could help other women.
“But then,” she says, “there was no longer a future for me in Egypt.” She doesn’t want to say exactly what happened, but it is well known that refugees in North Africa are less and less welcome and are constantly faced with the danger of being raped or otherwise attacked. Some return to their home countries, while many move onward.
Tut left Egypt twomonths ago and made her way to Tunisia. She didn’t know what to expect, but she had been told that things would be simpler. She ended up in Sfax, where she did odd jobs when she could get them.
Nyabiey Tut wants to become a gynecologist and is trying to make it to Europe. For the moment, she is stuck in El Amra.
Now 18, Tut has written “Kudhekur” in the sand next to her mattress with her finger, a word which translates as “God is everything.” It is what she intends to name her son, who is due in the next several days. She’s kneeling beneath an olive tree in her colorful, ankle-length dress, her mattress covered with a clean sheet.
On February 21 of this year, Tunisian President Kais Saied held a speech in which he perpetuated the conspiracy narrative that migrants from sub-Saharan Africa are intent on destroying Arab culture. After that, it wasn’t long before the first migrants were attacked. The death of a Tunisian man, likely stabbed by assailants from Cameroon, then led to a significant escalation. Hundreds of migrants were driven out of Sfax, with many ending up in the olive orchards of El Amra.
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In September, the government ramped up the aggression, loading the refugees who remained in Sfax onto buses and declaring the city “migrant free.” But the problem was merely moved north to the fishing village of El Amra, where the buses then unloaded the migrants, one of whom was Tut. Since then, she’s been living in the olive grove. “My biggest fear is that my baby will be born out here,” she says. “Just thinking about it breaks my heart.”
With the Tunisian government having bused migrants out of the city of Sfax, many are now living under olive trees near the village of El Amra. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Thousands of migrants are stuck in El Amra. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
But it’s not just the migrants who are suffering, so too are the El Amra locals. If you speak with the fishermen, they tell stories of finding dead bodies in their nets and of seeing boats sink before their eyes – and of being able to save just a handful of those on board in the best case. “I will never forget the sight of the little girl who drowned right in front of me. I dream about her every night,” says one fisherman, who asks that his name not be used out of fear for the police. Those who help migrants, after all, are punished.
Aziz Ben Hassan, whose name has been changed for this story, is sitting on a traditional low sofa in his living room, located in a dusty side street of El Amra. Chain-smoking and sipping tea, the Tunisian man’s skin is deeply tanned by the sun. He runs a small general store right next door, where he sells canned tomatoes, toothpaste and other daily necessities. In contrast to shops on the main road, however, not many migrants drop by his store, and business isn’t going well.
Ben Hassan really shouldn’t be here. His plan was to go to Italy, a place the 40-year-old lived many years ago – a seven-year stint that came to an end in 2003. He has a daughter from an earlier relationship who lives there. But Ben Hassan had no papers and was ultimately deported back to Tunisia. He started a new life, once again establishing a family and even building a house. But as the years have passed, his frustrations with the increasingly autocratic government and the conditions in Tunisia have grown. “There is nothing here, everything keeps getting more expensive,” he says, putting out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.
Aziz Ben Hassan’s boat was intercepted by the Tunisian Coast Guard and he was sent back. He plans to try again. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
So he tried again two weeks ago, boarding a boat heading for Lampedusa. Initially, things looked good for him and the others on board as they set off under the protection of darkness. But then, a ship belonging to the Tunisian Coast Guard showed up. “They were much faster than us. We didn’t have a chance,” he recalls. When the Coast Guard boat was almost upon them, they all put their hands up so as not to be mistaken for a migrant smuggler, says Hassan. But the boat began spinning in a circle, out of control. Hassan says he grabbed the rudder: “I would do the same thing again,” he says, “we had women and children on board.” But he was arrested and accused of smuggling, and his case is ongoing. He was released on bail after a few days.
“I have to get out of here as fast as I can before they throw me back into jail,” says Hassan. Recently, he considered making part of his home available to refugees from sub-Saharan Africa so that they didn’t have to sleep outdoors. But his wife advised against it, saying it was “too dangerous.” In Tunisia, it’s against the law to shelter migrants, and even taking them along in your car isn’t allowed. Hassan believes that the government’s decision to bring the migrants from Sfax to El Amra, a well-known hub of migrant smuggling, was no accident. “Our dictator wants to emulate (Turkish President Recep Tayyip) Erdoğan by threatening Europe with migrants so that the money is paid out faster,” he says.
Tunisia has signed a memorandum of understanding with Europe involving the upgrading of the country’s Coast Guard in addition to monetary aid, which is linked to political reforms. But President Saied, it would seem, isn’t yet satisfied, having threatened recently to refuse to accept the money promised by Brussels. He clearly sees the migrants in El Amra as a political weapon.
“If Europe believes they can prevent migration like that, then they are way wrong,” says Sofian Msalmi with a grin. “Down at the port, they have dogs, a four-meter-tall fence, scanners, all of it. But I’ve still managed to make it onto a boat several times.”
The 36-year-old can be considered something of a migration expert based purely on his experience: He has made fully 17 attempts to reach Europe, finding success on four occasions – and once even living in Germany for a time. Unable to find work in Europe, he returned to Tunisia three times of his own volition. The other time, he committed a crime and was arrested before being deported. But he keeps trying over and over again. And he consistently uses the same trick: In the port of Sfax, he climbs over the fence and hides in a container in the hopes of catching a ride north.
Of all the migrants who embark from Tunisia and arrive in Italy, Tunisians themselves were the third-largest group in the first six months of 2023. And they can often expect help from local fishermen, who are familiar with the sea and its dangers. People from places like Sudan, Guinea or Senegal, by contrast, often have little or no seagoing experience when they head out in their improvised vessels. Frequently, one of them will be randomly designated captain.
Sofian Msalmi has attempted the crossing to Europe 17 times. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Msalmi now runs a gaming salon in El Amra. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Ayub (left) is only 17, but has already made one attempt to get to Europe. When the inflatable boat his group was traveling in began losing air, they had to give up. His friend Mohammed (right) says he plans to head north as soon as he has saved up enough money.
Village youth gather in the gaming salon opened by Sofian Msalmi. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Msalmi now runs a small gaming salon on the outskirts of El Amra. He has decorated the walls with a couple of posters and set up a foosball table in the middle of the room. In the corner is a PlayStation console and a couple of chairs. Fifteen minutes on the foosball table costs one Tunisian dinar, the equivalent of around 30 euro cents. The place fills up in the late afternoon, with boys from the village crowding inside. Msalmi greets them with a high five.
Ultimately, his forays into the EU did have at least one benefit: By voluntarily agreeing to return home following his last trip, he received a kind of startup assistance to open his gaming salon. A French organization paid for the furnishings and the PlayStation. All he needs now is a pool table. Business isn’t half bad.
On this particular afternoon, an impassioned debate erupts over whether making the effort to get to the EU is worth it. In the end, all of the boys at the PlayStation agree: Off to Europe! Even the 17-year-old with the childlike voice at the foosball table has tried his luck – at least until his inflatable raft began losing air. Msalmi, though, is the only one who says: “I’m going to stay here for the time being. The village youth need things to do.”
But there isn’t anything to do in the olive grove on the other side of El Amra. There isn’t even any water available. Small groups of migrants huddle in the shade provided by the trees, generally divided by nationality. The owner of the orchard, a Tunisian woman, just came by and complained loudly about the migrants. Sometimes, they are even driven off. But they just set up camp again a couple of trees further on. Where else should they go?
The young girl has been given the nickname Lampedusa. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Improvised vessels like this one are often used to ferry migrants across the sea. This one was impounded and destroyed by the police. Foto: Selene Magnolia / DER SPIEGEL
Nyabiey Tut has joined forces with another woman from South Sudan, huddling together with the woman’s two children and sister. They laugh a lot together during the day. And cry together in the evening. They have taken to calling the youngest girl in the group Lampedusa.
Tut says she’s stuck here for the time being. She not only lacks the money she needs for a spot on a boat – she also can’t find any work in El Amra. She is left hoping once again for a bit of money from relatives back home. Tut rubs her belly and closes her eyes for a moment. In her dreams, she is wearing a white smock in a hospital in Denmark or Germany. “Fleeing to Europe is all that’s left for me,” she says.