"E-MIGRANTS"
ENG: E-migrants is a serie of diptychs that portrays migrants through their personal stories, as people forced to leave their home due to harsh life conditions and that prefer to risk to die crossing the Mediterranean Sea, in search of hope.
Each person told me his story in a one to one conversation and then I asked for an object they could keep throughout the whole journey, but few had something.
Only after this process I took their portrait and, eventually, the photograph of their object.
As for us the concepts of “having nothing” and “escape from extreme life conditions” might mean an abstract and far idea, for migrants are a concrete reality to face every day and that keeps worsening fast. This makes them vulnerable and exposed to other risks, as being used as workforce by criminal organizations or ruthless industries; or being used as “the enemy” by populist parties all along Europe.
Thus, the need of a “vis a vis” confrontation through the photographic medium, questioning ourselves not only about their vulnerabilities, but also ours: what brings us to believe false truths, seeing migrants as enemies? Is it the need of a scapegoat with which we can justify rage and frustration? And every time we let this happening, every time we allow others to tell us what to think about people we don’t know anything about, without examining the reasons behind, we pay a huge price, and that' s our failure as people and the loss of what makes us humans.
Would you risk a journey wired with death and torture unless you really have to?
ITA: “E-Migrants” é una serie di diptici che cerca di ritrarre i migranti attraverso le loro storie personali, come persone forzate a lasciare il proprio paese a causa di situazioni difficili e che cercano una vita migliore. É un progetto iniziato nel 2016 e ancora in corso.
Ho chiesto a ogni persona che ha voluto partecipare di raccontarmi la propria storia, in una conversazione a due, tra di noi. Molti hanno cambiato espressione e stato d’ animo mentre raccontavano, ricordando ma allo stesso tempo rendendosi conto di tutte le cose che avevano dovuto affrontare.
Alla fine chiedevo se fosse possibile mostrarmi un oggetto che li avesse seguiti da casa durante tutto il viaggio, come una fotografia, una maglietta o un braccialetto... qualsiasi cosa. La maggior parte non ha potuto mostrarmi niente e i pochi che l’ hanno fatto avevano un anello, una maglietta o dei pantaloni.
Solo dopo questo processo scattavo il loro ritratto e poi la foto dell’ oggetto.
Ció che volevo enfatizzare é l' idea “del non avere niente” che si trasforma, e da concetto, come siamo più propensi a pensarlo nella società occidentale, passa a essere un fatto, una realtà che molte persone come i migranti vivono ogni giorno. Questo li rende estremamente vulnerabili e esposti ad altri rischi, come essere sfruttati da organizzazioni criminali e non, o essere usati come il nemico da sconfiggere, il capro espiatorio di tutto ció che va male per le propagande politiche populiste dei paesi europei, tra cui prima l’ Italia. Gli “invasori stranieri”,
nemici della nazione, che vengono a “rubarci il lavoro”. Da qui la necessità di un confronto, un vís a vís, seppur come testimonianza fotografica e la necessità di interrogarci anche sulla nostra vulnerabilità, di cedere e credere che siano davvero dei nemici perché in un momento storico come quello che stiamo attraversando é più facile avere un capro espiatorio sul quale riversare la nostra rabbia e la nostra frustrazione e sul quale giustificare le nostre azioni. Ma ogni volta che lasciamo che questo accada, ogni volta che consentiamo che ci dicano cosa pensare di persone che non conosciamo e con cui probabilmente non abbiamo mai parlato, senza poi indagare sulle ragioni, ci ritroviamo a pagare un alto prezzo, che é il nostro fallimento come persone e la perdita di ció che ci rende umani.
Voi rischiereste un viaggio minato di morte o torture senza una reale necessità di farlo?
Diogo Bah. 17, Guinea. Fled from Ebola and civil war.
“My family died and I escaped from Ebola epidemics and civil war. I was a student in my country.”
Osadolor. 21, Nigeria. Fled from life-threatening situation but can’ t talk about it.
“I was in danger so had to leave Nigeria. I went to Mali, then I was kidnapped in Libya and went into a Buabas camp, where they stole everything I
had. I finally managed to escape and get in a boat. We were rescued in the open sea two days after we left.”
Shek. 26, Bangladesh. Fled from extreme poverty.
“I worked as a mechanic in a textiles factory for three years. Then I got fired and couldn’ t support my family anymore without a job. I have sisters who
are not married and still leave in my parents house. As women, they don’ t work, so it is my duty to support them.”
Bakary. 21, Gambia. Fled from family issues due to religious beliefs.
“My father is an imam, he threw us out of home because my mum was atheist. I decided to leave and find a job to pay the rent and medicines for her.
She had an accident and couldn’ t work anymore. I went through Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Libya. There, I started working, but after I was
arrested and beaten. After all, when I finally managed to call home, I found out my mother had died.”
Kamrul. 35, Bangladesh, Narsingdi. Fled from extreme poverty.
“I left home because of poverty. I went to Sudan and then Libya, where I started to work as a barman. I was happy, even if I had 15 to 16 hours shifts.
But after six months I wasn’ t getting paid. Libya was also a dangerous place to live in. I wasn’ t safe going around in the street. Anyone could stop by,
beat me and rob me. Finally the police did it. It wasn’ t a sustainable situation to live.”
Abdul Mumuni. 20, Ghana. Fled from religious beliefs contrasts with his family.
“Me and my brother were born with six fingers in each hand. Because of religious beliefs in my village, my family wanted them to be amputated. Only
in that way we could be accepted and not considered evil beings. My brother died because of a post-surgery infection so I didn’ t want to do it myself.
I had to escape to not get killed. I ended up in Libya, which is not a safe place either...”
Ayouba. 21, Guinea, Conakri. Fled from poverty and Ebola epidemics.
“My father and mother died when I was a child. I was raised up by the rest of the family. I could escape the Ebola plague of 2014 and decided to look
for a better life far from there.” I went through Mali, Burkina, Niger and Libya. I found a friend who had a brother living in France, he lent me the
money for the crossing in the boat.”
Gisseh. 30, Gambia. Fled from life imprisonment because accused of being gay.
“I used to work in a holiday hotel for white people where I became friend with a French man. He asked me to find a house to rent for him and from
there I’ ve been accused of being gay, which is illegal and punishable with life prison. My uncle came to me and gave me some money to escape the
country. I ended up being kidnapped in Libya and brought to a camp where we were beaten. They put cigarettes out in my body.”
Mia. 20, Burma. Fled from religious persecution and poverty.
“Being a Muslim, I left Burma (Myanmar) to escape religious persecution against our community. From there I went to live in Bangladesh, and
then I menaged to go to Libya. There I was working in a bar for the army for eleven months. After that I could get into a boat to come here in
Italy. In my country I used to live from fishing and agriculture, here I would like to find any kind of job, so I could help my family.”
Saha Alom. 34, Bangladesh, Shariat Pur. Fled from extreme poverty.
"I am the only male of seven sons, so the only one who was working in my family, because my father is ill. I used to drive a rickshaw, but my earnings weren't enough to support everybody, I also have a wife and a son of five, Sharpin. I fled to Dubai and then Libya. I stayed there for six months, working as a bricklayer, but I've never got payed. I've been beaten and abused, until a friend helped me to come to Italy."
Islam Kamrul. Bangladesh. Fled from extreme poverty.
Mumni. 20, Gambia. Fled from problems due to family heredity.
"I had to leave because my stepbrother wanted to kill me to keep my father's heredity after both my parents died. He cut my fingers because I didn't want to leave. I went to Senegal for five months, I was in hospital and a doctor helped me with some money. So then I left to Mali, Burkina, Niger and finally Libya, where I stayed for five months. I was working in a bar, but I didn't get paid. Finally I had my chance to cross the sea and go to Europe. We were 140 people in the boat, we' ve been rescued by a Spanish sheep the morning after we left Libya."
Hajj Ahmed. 18, Ghana. Fled from poverty and lack of work.
"I got to Libya in 10 days, crossing Burkina Faso, Niger and then the desert, stuck in a pick-up with 25 people. We crossed to Libya from Druku and then went to Sabha. We've been treated like prisoners, placed in dirty rooms with no light, no food and no water. I saw people being shot in front of me, they also shot my friend. Then they took me to Tripoli, hidden in nine different cars for three long days. There I started to work for an Arabic man who paid me with a "boat ticket". I took the boat, but it finished in Tunisian waters, so we' ve been sent back to Libya. They robbed everything we had, my experience in Libya is my sadness. Hopefully I'll find a job here."
Moriba Fanne. 21, Ivory Coast. Fled from family conflicts after his father died.
"I had to leave home because I was risking to get killed. I have a wife and a son I had to leave there. The journey to and through Libya has been full of bandits and so much violence. I managed to go to Tripoli and I worked there as a mechanic for a year and a half. Afterwards they took me to prison, with no food, no space and continuously harassed by the guards. I finally took the boat, we were 164 people on board. We' ve been rescued by a military ship and I arrived in Cagliari April 18, 2017. I left home bringing with me many things, but I don't have anything left."
Ibrahima. 47, Costa d’ Avorio.
“I don’t have anything to show you, what I brought with me from my country is the war.
It started on the 19th of September 2002. My parents died and I don’t know anything about my brothers and sisters. I ran to Mali in 2005 and
then I went to Algeria for two years, where I was able to work a little. In 2009 I went to Libya, but war started there as well. I was arrested in
Tripoli, I menaged to escape and to work for a Libyan man, but after a while he took me to a refugee camp. On a Friday, between 3 and 4 o’ clock
in the morning, I got into a boat to cross the Mediterranean. I arrived in Cagliari on April the 18th, 2017, after we had been rescued at sea.
I don’t feel welcome here in Italy, but if I could find any job, I would stay. I was a mechanic in my country, but it’s difficult to find that kind of job
here.”
Yallo Mahamedi Issa. 21, Guinea Conakry. Fled from poverty and family feud.
"I had many family problems in my country, I was working with my uncle selling some grocery in the street but then I decided to find look for a better life and I left. I' ve never known my father, who died when I was very little."
Ernest Collins. 24, Nigeria. Fled from Nigerian mafia.
"There was a group of local mafia who wanted me to work for them. I refused and I try to report them to the police, who actually arrested one of them but then set him free, probably after being paid off. These boys then came to look for me at my mother's house, so me and also my brother left. To Niger and then to Libya, hidden inside a truck. They put me in prison, sharing a room in 50 people and begging to have something to eat. Then an Arab man offered me to fo to Europe, even if I wanted to go to find a job in Tripoli. The boat left from a place near the Tunisian border. I was afraid, the sea is the worst! It was dirty and many people were throwing out. There were three boats, one with 170 people, one with 140, of which only one survived, and one with 130, which started to sink so the people on board have been taken back to Libya. We' ve been rescued by the Seawatch and Proactiva Open Arms. When I arrived in Cagliari I felt so grateful and I started to believe in the future. After two months in Italy, I finally found out that meanwhile my mother died."
Emanuel Aifesehi. 25, Nigeria, Benin City. Fled from the many, complicated problems his country is in, to find a better life and help his family.
"I don' t even know how I managed to keep my membership card my church gave me as a wisdom teacher. This is crazy for me! You know I remember Libyan people stopped us in the middle of the road, near a bridge and they had guns and told us to take everything off, clothes and any other thing. They took everything we had from us but fortunately they let us go, naked but alive. Me and my mate stayed in the middle of nowhere, like that, until we found they throw our clothes not far away from where we were and we could get dressed again. The journey has been very hard, but getting in the boat has been terrible. Before you embark they take everything you have and only leave you some water and dates to eat, so I really don' t know how my membership card stayed with me. But out in the sea, I remember, I was holding it with my hands and between my teeth and praying."