Bachir Rajaa was twenty-seven years old when he decided to embark on a boat to Lanzarote. He left his town, in the Gulemin region, and set sail from the African coast on February 14, 2009. He arrived at Los Cocoteros (Teguise) a day later, along with 31 other people. There were only six survivors and Bachir was not one of them.
Monday marks one year since the worst tragedy that immigration has experienced in Lanzarote. The small boat, loaded to the brim, capsized just a few meters from the rugged coast of Los Cocoteros, a small urbanization next to the town of Guatiza. Twenty-five dead: many of them teenagers, two women and three children. The tragedy could have been even worse but thanks to the help of the neighbors there were survivors.
A year after that day, Suelim, one of Bachir's brothers who lives in Arrecife, remembers that he saw the news of the shipwreck in a store and did not pay much attention. He did not know that his brother was coming on board. Four days later his mother called him because Bachir, who always slept at home, did not appear.
Suelim appeared at the Costa Teguise Civil Guard barracks. There he learned of his brother's fate, who brought his identity card with him. Then he had to identify the body and a week later accompany him to Morocco to bury him with his family.
"It took us a whole day to get there," he recalls. The departure of the plane was postponed at the last moment. The repatriation was paid for by the Cabildo of Lanzarote but the Government of Morocco, the nationality of all the occupants of the boat, put all possible obstacles until the end. The Rajaa are of Saharawi origin, like many of those who came in the boat.
NO FUTURE
Being Saharawi in Morocco is a burden that adds to the extreme poverty in the Gulemin area, where young people have neither work nor hope of getting it. "They get up, get together, sit down and smoke a cigarette between four or five," says Suelim, who has been in Lanzarote for twelve years and who arrived in Europe thanks to obtaining a visa to travel to France.
Bachir was one of those young people and like so many, he was also one of those who had in mind to leave there. "I always told him not to come, that he was risking his life at sea," says his brother. Suelim does not know what his brother paid and has never asked his mother if she knows how he contacted the skippers. He does not want to talk to her about that.
Suelim's father was born in Smara, the only large population in the Sahara without a coast. He was a nomadic shepherd and ended up in Gulemin, much further north. There they bought a small plot of land but things did not go too well. He died four or five years ago. Since then, and even before, Suelim supports the family with the money he sends.
SUPPORTS THE FAMILY
He works in a laundry in Playa Honda, earns less than a thousand euros a month, has two children, pays the rent for a house in Arrecife and since August, a mortgage for a house in El Aaiún, the capital of Western Sahara. After the death of his brother, the family has gone to live there. "It is closer to Lanzarote and we have more family there," says Suelim. In El Aaiún life is not easy for the Saharawis either. A relative of his is serving thirteen years in prison "just for talking," he adds.
Bachir and his three sisters lived with Suelim's mother, who continue to live with her. The expectations are just as bad for them and their future depends on Suelim not losing his job. Added to this, now, is the sadness for the loss of Bachir.
DREAMS OF SALVATION
"Whenever I go they remember him more," he says, "although my mother is constantly thinking about Bachir." On his last visit home, in September, one of his sisters, dreaming, jumped out of bed to grab her brother, to prevent him from falling into the water, he says. And when she came across the emptiness of the bed she began to cry.
For Suelim, the reason why his brother risked his life is clear. "If there was work and a future in Morocco he would not have tried to come." "Deep down it is the government's fault, he says, they are interested in all the young people leaving."
ACN