What happens to the migrants who fail to get to Europe or return home destitute and disillusioned? Jennifer Carlos spent six months in Senegal documenting their often heartbreaking stories
Each year, tens of thousands of people risk their lives fleeing Senegal, once stable but now riven by political and economic turmoil. Most make what the United Nations deems to be the world’s most dangerous migrant journey – a 1,500-kilometre sea passage to the Canary Islands in overcrowded wooden canoes. Others cross the Sahara in the hands of people-smuggling gangs. Many die, a large number are forcibly returned by other countries, some get to Europe and find work. However, there’s a steady stream of migrants returning home, some having failed in their attempt to get to Europe, others having been unable to find lucrative work. Many simply want to return to their families. Their homecomings are far from straightforward. Often they’re rejected by their communities and suffer guilt and remorse. A lucky few find a new purpose back home; others are desperate to make another attempt.
Salamba’s story
Salamba Ndiaye, 26, was top of her class at school and dreamed of becoming a scientist in Europe. Like many young people in Senegal, she lived by the motto ‘Barça or Barsaax’ (Barcelona or die). Salamba made the dangerous canoe crossing to the Canary Islands. Her boat got lost, and after a week at sea in the crowded canoe, they landed in Morocco. She was arrested and returned to Senegal.
The shame and remorse made her a recluse for three years. Finally, she confessed to her mother what she had done, who then gave her her life savings to enrol at Dhaka University. However, the university was closed a few months later due to political unrest. Now, she teaches local children French one day a week, does some remote university work and devotes the rest of her time to playing football in a newly formed women’s team. She still dreams of reaching Europe.
‘The journey across the sea was traumatic,’ she says. ‘I was the youngest, and I was very scared’. She says she hopes the university reopens and she can resume her studies. ‘I dream of becoming a great chemist. That’s why I tried to emigrate to Europe. I also wanted to be able to send money to my family.’
Macumba’s story
Twenty years ago, at the age of 19, Macumba Saar was sent to France by his father in the hope of finding a job and sending money back to his family. He tried selling wooden sculptures to tourists but failed to sell a single one. When his tourist visa was about to run out, he decided to join the French Foreign Legion and was deployed to conflict zones in Côte d’Ivoire, Djibouti and the Central African Republic.
While fighting for the legion, he suffered a spinal injury and was left paralysed in both legs. In 2011, he decided to return to Senegal. He has since become an avid para-cyclist and hopes to represent Senegal at the Paris Olympics. He says: ‘I gave part of myself to France. When I woke up in the emergency room, I laughed, I was so happy to be alive. It was such an opportunity. Now, if I train well, I should represent Senegal at the 2024 Paralympic Games.
‘During my rehabilitation at the Institut des Invalides in France, I had to relearn the essential movements, and I often wondered how I would face the gaze of others. That’s when I wanted to go back to Senegal, but I had concerns about accessibility and stigma towards people with disabilities. Fortunately, my return went very well, and I received valuable support.’
Moustahpa’s story
When Moustahpa Diouf, 54, twice left his fishing village on the outskirts of Dakar for Spain. Both times he was repatriated. On his return in 2009 his wife left him. He says: ‘My wife was disappointed to see me again. She was hoping I would stay in Europe and send her money.’
Today, he runs an association in the village warning young people of the risks of crossing to the Canary Islands by canoe. He tries to persuade them to stay and tries to find jobs for them in Senegal, but things aren’t going well. There’s little work and most of the young people are desperate to leave for Europe.
‘I have few friends in the village’, he says. ‘People don’t respect me here. I failed. It is very hard for the family and the community to accept that we come back with nothing. We are considered weak.’
El Hajd’s story
Thirty-nine-year-old fisherman El Hajd Macura has twice tried to reach Europe. Both attempts failed. On the first occasion in 2009 he sold all his fish equipment and headed to Mauritania to get a boat to Spain. He was repatriated after 45 days. On the second occasion, three years later, Moroccan police dumped him in the desert in Algeria to find his own way home. His attempts were a family effort, with his mother raising much of the funds needed to pay the people smugglers. International industrial fishing fleets have nearly destroyed the local, artisanal fishing way of life, and today, he struggles to feed his family on what he catches.
He says: ‘When I returned, after two months, I did not want to meet anyone and hid. The worst thing would have been to cross my wife’s eyes. At first, she could not approach me.
‘People’s eyes are harsh, and there are a lot of rumours. Many say I left to squander my mother’s money. I feel guilty because I caused a lot of stress to my mother. She had a stroke and is paralysed. I am powerless because I do not have enough money to live on, much less to provide care. My son has a hernia, but I can’t afford to pay for an operation.’
His mother Fatou says: ‘I helped him pay for his trips, I gave him a total of 450,000 francs [about £600] for his first departure. Seeing him come back was a great disappointment, a waste of time and money. I don’t think it’s his fault because his luck hasn’t come yet.
‘The day God decides he has to stay there, he’ll stay. I am not afraid because I trust my son. He knows the sea well. I am not afraid of the consequences or what might happen to him. If you are destined to live, you will live, and if you are destined to die, it is so, for God decides.’
- Jennifer would like to thank the Item Collective of photographers and journalists who mentored her during her year-long project.
