Lamin (25)
“I don’t understand why life is so difficult for me”
After four failed attempts to cross the Mediterranean, Lamin is unsure whether to make one last attempt. He would like to go home, but not without money to help his family.
Lamin grew up in a poor family in Gambia and, like his brothers, never had the chance to go to school. His father placed him with a tailor’s family at a young age, where he learned the trade and worked odd jobs for nine years. But the income wasn’t enough to alleviate the poverty at home. “At sixteen, I thought: I have to go to Europe, to learn something so I can better provide for my family.”
After a long journey via Mali, Lamin arrived in Libya and made two attempts to reach Europe. “Both times I was arrested and imprisoned in a Libyan prison. That was the worst thing I ever experienced. When I managed to escape after a year, people said: go to Tunisia. I tried it here twice too. We left with about forty people, and only a few came back. We didn't capsize because of the waves, but because we were attacked by the coastguard. Many of my friends drowned.”
Impression of the living conditions in the camp in Sfax.
"The police make it impossible for us to live here," says Lamin. "I sleep poorly for fear of a raid. These days they come around five in the morning. Last month, while I was still asleep, the police stormed into our camp, screaming. I was knocked out of my tent and pepper-sprayed when I tried to run away. They say two words: money, phone. Then they ask where you're from. They don't write down your name. After that, we were deported by bus to the desert. They say: there's Algeria, go there. They beat us if we don't keep going. It took us nine days to walk back. But you can also be arrested on the street. Sometimes the police take your phone and money and throw you off the bus after 10 kilometers. Sometimes you're taken to Algeria and sold there."
Lamin in his makeshift tent. "In winter, we go door to door and beg for blankets."
Lamin has been away from home for nine years now and is close to despair. “We have no place to live here. Finding drinking water, washing, cooking—everything is a problem. People aren't allowed to give us work. Yet I try every day. If you see the police, you have to run. Usually I find nothing, sometimes I'm lucky. In winter, we go door-to-door begging for blankets. When we're sick, we can't go to a hospital. We drink tea made from boiled berries; it eases the pain a bit like paracetamol. When I go to a café to watch football, I'm turned away. They say: forbidden. That's because I'm Black. They don't want us here. I don't understand why life is so difficult for me. Sometimes I'd rather be dead.”
"I'm very stressed," says Lamin. "My father, grandmother, and sister have since died; I've never seen them again." He's considering returning to Gambia but hasn't yet registered with the International Organization for Migration (IOM). “Should I make one last attempt? Some people still try to go to Europe, as long as they have hope and money. I'd like to go back, but I don't dare because I have no money for my family. They're not doing well, they're suffering. I don't understand why life is so difficult for me. Sometimes I'd rather be dead.”