Thousands of desperate African migrants embark on the treacherous journey through the Sahara desert each year. They risk their lives to realize a vague dream of a better life in Europe. Omar Sow is one of them. Omar Sow is stuck. He spent his last penny to reach the town of Agadez in Niger where the 28-year-old man from Guinea now lives in a "ghetto" for migrants. He can't leave here until he saves up enough money to continue his journey to Europe.
The "ghetto" is a row of small mud-and-brick houses in the town's Misrata neighbourhood, named after the city on the coast of Libya where boats leave for Italy. The houses are rented out by human traffickers, who act as middlemen between the migrants and truck drivers transporting goods across the Sahara desert. Agadez, located 950 kilometres north-east of the capital Niamey, is a major trading hub between North and West Africa. Hundreds, if not thousands, of migrants arrive here each year from poverty-stricken nations across West Africa, including Guinea, Gambia, Burkina Faso, Sierra Leone, Liberia and Ivory Coast.
From Agadez, they embark on an extremely dangerous journey further north through the desert - either through Algeria and Morocco to reach Spain or through Libya to get to Italy. Sow plans to take the route through Libya. "I know it won't be easy," says the young man in the dirty tank top, tired but full of hope. He sits on a thin mattress, which also functions as his bed, in a room he shares with several other migrants.
After years of unemployment, Sow decided to leave Guinea where more than half of the population lives on less than 1.25 dollars a day, according to the United Nations, even though Guinea is the world's second largest bauxite producer. When an Ebola epidemic broke out in the West African nation in December 2013, infecting about 3,600 people, of which almost 2,400 died, the situation in the country got even worse, says Sow.
He saved up 53,000 CFA francs (92 dollars), most of which he used to pay for transport to Agadez. He also had to pay bribes to the police at various roadblocks, he says. When Sow finally reached Agadez, he made a down payment with his leftover money to a middleman who promised to secure him a place on a truck to Libya. But a few days later, Sow learnt the price has gone up.
"I was told there are extra fees to bribe Libyan border officials and other authorities," the young man explains. "You can't be sure of anything. A lot of things don't happen as you expect them to," he sighs, keenly aware that he can't trust the promises of traffickers and middlemen. "Until I'm sitting on the back of a vehicle, I can't be sure I'll leave here."
Sow is hoping to find a job in Agadez to earn enough money to pay for the next leg of his journey. He is also waiting for his sister to wire him funds from Guinea. "I don't even have pocket money left," he says. The worry about money and day-to-day survival pushes thoughts about the many dangers of the journey ahead to the back of Sow's mind. Nonetheless, he spends a lot of time listening to international news channels on a small shortwave radio.
Sow knows about the hundreds of migrants who die trying to reach Europe, either in the desert or the ocean, but insists it's worth taking the risk. "We hear of those who die and there are some, who are repatriated and return home with nothing," he admits. "But then there are those who build houses for their parents." "Once you make it, life over there is beautiful," Sow firmly believes. "If you want to live a good life, you simply have to go to Europe."
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