Right side of history, wrong side of the Med

They arrive in rickety boats, many soaked to the skin but with smiles on their faces. As popular revolutions topple one Arab regime after another, the migrants flocking to the Italian island of Lampedusa have become the flip side of the coin – the undesired effects that prevent Europe from simply looking on with awe at what the people of Tunisia, Egypt and Libya have achieved.

A boat used by migrants is pulled ashore before going to join the dozens of other Tunisian vessels dumped in Lampedusa’s boat cemeteries.©Benjamin Dodman

In recent weeks, more than 7,000 illegal migrants from Tunisia – almost all men in their 20s and 30s – have crossed the narrow stretch of Mediterranean Sea that separates them from Lampedusa, a tiny speck of land located some 400 km south of Sicily, and half that distance from North Africa.

The mayor of Lampedusa has ordered them locked up in the island’s reception centre. But many simply climb over the fence to go and sit in the bars along via Roma, Lampedusa’s main artery.

Off rickety boats

Walid, a 22-year-old from Tataouine, near Djerba, arrived three days ago after a 20-hour journey through rough waters – a short trek by current standards, with many boats taking up to three days to cross the narrow stretch of water between Tunisia and Lampedusa.

His boat had been tossed about by strong gales, which forced a brief lull in crossings last week. “Water kept gushing in and we had to use our shirts to plug the holes in the boat,” he said.

Like most Tunisian migrants in Lampedusa, Walid plans to make his way up to France. He says there is no future for him in Tunisia, with or without Ben Ali.©Benjamin Dodman

Like most of the Tunisians in Lampedusa, Walid doesn’t plan to hang around for long. He says he has family in Pantin, outside Paris, and that is where he is heading for.

I asked him whether he thought the ouster of Ben Ali had raised hopes back home, but he simply shrugged his shoulders and answered “not for me”.

His words are echoed by the dozen or so migrants drinking coffee outside the Bar Roma, all of whom speak fluent French and a little Italian. “They’re all the same,” says Scandar, referring to the new Tunisian authorities. “They got rid of the top gun, but his henchmen haven’t budged.”

Like Scandar, Salim hails from the coastal city of Zarzis, in eastern Tunisia. He says one of his neighbours was killed during the country’s recent revolution. “Security has got worse back home and there are no jobs for people like us,” he said. When I pointed out that many in Europe are also struggling to find jobs, he swore it couldn’t possibly be worse than at home.

Emiliano Cadeddù (pictured right) has come from Sardinia to join the legion of volunteer workers busy providing first aid on board coastguard ships and at the migrant reception centre in Lampedusa.

Salim and his travelling companions, who preferred not to be photographed, asked me how they could reach France and how much the journey would cost. They said they were confident Italian authorities would fly them over to the mainland and then let them go. 

Onto chartered planes

Flights to the mainland have indeed resumed as the reception centre for migrants in Lampedusa is once again over capacity. Its director, Cono Callipò, said some 250 were heading today to the mainland, where they will be screened to determine whether they qualify as asylum seekers or as economic migrants. “If they are simply looking for work they will eventually be sent back home,” he said.

Italian authorities are being assisted by a host of humanitarian workers, who have become a ubiquitous presence in Lampedusa. Emiliano Cadeddù, a Sardinian volunteer who provides first aid aboard coastguard ships, is pessimistic about the migrants’ prospects. “I wash them, I feed them, I nurse them, but in the end I have to send them back,” he said.

Mohammed, pictured centre, and his fellow Tunisian fishermen sought shelter in the port of Lampedusa after a storm. But they have no intention of staying on this side of the Med. ©Benjamin Dodman

Not all are sent back against their will. One little vessel flying the Tunisian flag sailed out of port this morning. Its crew of six fishermen had sought refuge in the Italian port after a storm damaged the boat three days ago.

“We’re heading home now,” said the boat’s skipper, Mohammed, while swallowing a huge lump of Panettone. “There is great hope now that Ben Ali is gone, no one is afraid to speak anymore.”

Mohammed and his men say they don’t know why so many fellow Tunisians are desperate to leave the country. Yet, even as we speak, the 12th boat in as many hours sails into port, carrying scores more migrants determined to stay on this side of the Mediterranean, at all cost.

In pictures: "Door of Europe" One of several boat cemeteries on Lampedusa where vessels used by migrants from North Africa are dumped. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) A notice plastered onto one of the boats says the crafts have been seized by the Italian state because of their criminal use.(Photos: Benjamin Dodman) The boats will later be destroyed to ensure they are not used again to ship illegal immigrants across the Mediterranean. Many local fishermen say this is a shame, because the woodwork is often better than on their own boats. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) Tunisian flags flutter in the wind. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) Clothes, shoes and plastic bottles are among the items left behind. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) A severely damaged hull. The boats are often unfit for high seas and many are shipwrecked. Some allege the boats' drivers deliberately drill holes in order to force the Italian coastguard to rescue them rather than push them back to Tunisia. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) This boat cemetery lies next to Lampedusa’s only football pitch. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) The "Door of Lampedusa - Door of Europe" monument was erected in 2008 and dedicated to the migrants who died attempting to cross the narrow stretch of water between Italy and North Africa. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman) Wooden crosses in a segment of the Lampedusa cemetery mark the burial point of migrants shipwrecked off the coast of Malta last year. (Photos: Benjamin Dodman)