Young migrants find refuge in a cove in Ceuta while they wait for their destination

It's lunchtime, the August heat is setting in and Ayoub Darkaoui, a 16-year-old barber, lounges under an umbrella dressed in a green Real Madrid tracksuit. His group has taken advantage of an old platform on a rock to set up their camp, with just a mattress, a chair and an old checkered rug. "We are five little brothers," he mutters in very limited Spanish about his improvised family of hairdressers and seamstresses from Tangier, all Real Madrid fans.

- Do you like Mbappé?

- No, no, Vinicius!

From this improvised viewpoint you can see two kids doing cartwheels and laughing while jumping from the islets into a turquoise sea. The cove is deserted except for about fifteen young people who spend the afternoon here. It is a paradise of tranquility that looks like an influencer's account. Although the scene ignores what is happening around it: the almost 10,000 immigrants crowded in inhumane conditions in the 19 square kilometers of Ceuta, the extension of Madrid's Casa de Campo.

But the kids gathered here seem capable of squeezing out a few moments of happiness even in the filthy limbo in which they have lived since crossing the border a month ago. They spend the day dozing, splashing in the sea and waiting for the authorities to take care of them. They do so with little information about their rights and their probable fate: they seem to ignore that all, except minors and a handful of asylum recipients, are condemned to expulsion.

Meters further down, in some stalls on the sand, we find Kamel, a 29-year-old Algerian, leader of a group that has settled since the first day in this cove, located next to the old women's prison. There are six or seven Robinsons who have built a camp distributed in several areas: a clothesline, a kitchen and some pallets to sleep on, as well as a place where they play cards. They show exquisite politeness when they receive visitors: when we sit on the rocks to chat, one of them quickly sets up a piece of cardboard as an improvised chair.

Kamel is a smart guy who recounts his journey over the last few years in impeccable English. From Algeria he came to Austria through Türkiye, where he worked as a cook and became a girlfriend. In 2024, the police returned him to his country and, since then, he has been obsessed with returning. The big leap a month ago caught him in Morocco and he did not hesitate to cross the border for the second time.

- Why do you stay in Ceuta?

- Life here is hard, yes, but it's worth trying. We're not leaving here: Europe is better than Africa!

Hours later, write on WhatsApp to thank you for the visit and share the latest news. "An hour after you left, some soldiers came and beat us," he says. "They hit me hard in the leg, but I feel fine."

Up on the hill, movement is detected. Hidden among the weeds is a pipe barely a meter in diameter. When I poke my head out of it, Said, 22, appears in the darkness, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Mattresses, slippers and blankets are piled up around them. "We sleep here during the day, because at night they come to beat us," he explains, gesturing, while four companions appear at the bottom of the tunnel. “Porra, porra, porra,” everyone agrees, using one of the few Spanish words that everyone knows.

The beach, thus, has become a small oasis for the gang during the day. Yasien, 20, also uses it as a refuge. After several failed attempts in Spanish, he uses Google translator to tell his story: he is from Taounate, south of Al Hoceima. Being the eldest son, he has worked since he was 10 years old to support the precarious family economy, focused on the cultivation of olives, but on the 30th he crossed to Ceuta with one goal: "To fulfill my dream, Allah willing."