Testimonies of five migrants deported from Algeria to Assamaka, border of Niger, recorded in January 2025: Rose from Ivory Coast. Fatima, Solène and Norbert from Cameroon. And a speaker of Nigerian women living outside in Assamaka.  

The testimonies paint a grim picture of border violence by Algerian, Tunisian and also Moroccan security forces, with their dehumanising, brutal and, in the worst cases, deadly racist and sexist practices, which are clearly not isolated cases, but part of a system:

Sexualised violence and rape of women intercepted at the border or deported or pushed back. Women and men are searched for money and valuables using humiliating and sexualised practices. People are severely mistreated and beaten, and suffer fractures of limbs that are difficult to heal. Identity documents and personal items, even dentures, are deliberately destroyed. People are abandoned in the desert and left to die of thirst.

In Assamaka, deportees survive in extremely precarious conditions. The accommodation and supply facilities set up in the IOM camp or by humanitarian organisations such as COOPI are far from meeting the needs. Many people, including hundreds of women, men and children from Nigeria, do not even have access to these facilities and have to struggle to survive completely on their own.

At the same time, the stories of those who have been deported also bear witness to their resilience, their will to survive and even to acts of solidarity in a hostile and violent environment.

One of the objectives of Alarme Phone Sahara is to ensure that the perpetrators of crimes against people on the move, as well as their sponsors and financial backers, particularly in EU Member States, are held accountable.

Testimony Rose, Ivorian migrant deported from Algeria and Tunisia

"My name is Rose, I am Ivorian, I come from the Ivory Coast. I was in Morocco. I lived in Morocco for 4 years. Anyway, the truth is, of all the countries in North Africa, I still prefer Morocco. Because at the moment, if I'm told I'm going to an Arab country, I'd still prefer Morocco. Because along the way, I'd say, oh, I'll go to Tunisia.

What they showed me, first of all, in Algeria, when I left, I'd never experienced that since I was born. In Algeria, I arrived, the police took us, I was with my husband. They put me in a house. Three people. They took off all our clothes, they didn't rape me. What they did was more than rape. Because one of them grabbed a foot here, the other one grabbed a foot here. They took off all our clothes (...). They looked up my arse to see if there was anything there, if I had hidden anything. The other one wore a glove and put his hand in my vagina and then in my arse. I experienced all of that in Algeria. We left. They finished it off and it all passed. In any case, I was so traumatised. But we couldn't go back. (..)

We went to Tunisia. In Tunisia, it was a dead end again. When I see in Tunisia, there is no visa. Even in Morocco, there is no visa. I had all my papers. Where they took us, my passport, even my driving licence, they took everything, they tore everything up in front of me. (..) They tore everything up in front of me before we went back to Tunis. We went back to Tunis.

Because of the problem we came here for, the person called us, told us to come, to leave. We left again on the water, they took us on the water. There, today, my toes have become disabled. Because they hit women as well as boys. They hit men as well as boys. Again, the one I was with, because he was a bit of a loudmouth, they said he was the smuggler. So they almost killed him. It was because of him that they stepped on my foot until they crushed my toes. Because I didn't want to, he wasn't a smuggler.

In any case, what they showed me in an Arab country, well, if they tell me it's a better country, I'd still prefer Morocco. Because even today, if someone tells me I can go to Morocco, I can accept it. But Algeria, Tunisia, really. Even if someone says, ‘I don't agree,’ and tells me they want to go there, I'm going to discourage the person. Really.

They still take us as far as Assamaka today. But first, the first time, they take your phone, your money, nothing, even if you ask for your SIM card to call your parents, they won't give it to you. So you set off, to be thrown into the desert. Especially on the Tunisian side, they throw you out, even if you have water with you, they throw everything out. Everything you have, even if you have worn the right shoes, they take everything. And in the desert, you walk barefoot. I walked barefoot in the desert for three days, on the road to Tunisia, before arriving in Algeria. So really, Algeria, it's the same thing. They can take your things, your phone, the money you have on you, and they drop you off in the desert, with nothing.

So, if it's not Assamaka here, we can say that they have an association here, it's called COOPI. When you arrive here, they are the ones who can give you food. Otherwise, you arrive here with nothing. Even clothes, even shoes, nothing. In any case, that's what I experienced in the Arab countries. It's beyond me. To explain, even that, sometimes, it can traumatise you."

Testimony of Fatima, a Cameroonian migrant deported from Morocco and Algeria

"My name is Fatima. I am a young Cameroonian, aged 32. I left my country recently for an adventure, because I would like to discover many things. But things that I experienced when I arrived in Algeria while trying to cross the border into Morocco! The Algerian leaders don't treat you well. It's very difficult to move around the streets of Algeria because every time we do, we're afraid of being deported.

And in the forest, when we go to the border with Morocco, we really live like orphans! We live in the middle of the forest, without blankets, without anything, with the hope of entering Morocco. But after two months of suffering and all that, we tried to enter Morocco. When we arrived in Morocco, the Moroccan military first caught us at the border after we had already arrived on their territory at 2:30 in the morning. They made the men take off their clothes, and it was freezing. They stripped us, searched us, and fingered the men up to the anus to look for money. They took our phones and our ID, and robbed us of all our possessions. And after that, they sent us back to the other side, to Algeria. That's where the Algerian military also picked us up, they took us to their camp. In their camp, they gave us to a captain. As I was the only woman, they offered me to a captain. But thank God, I talked to the captain, I made him understand that I am married and I cannot do things with him. I don't know what happened, maybe my god was... he tried to understand me, because I cried, cried for two hours to say it's not normal. I know, I crossed the border for a better life. He doesn't need to go that far with me.

When we returned to the camp, I found the boys there. And among the boys, I found that dogs had been unleashed. They were made to stand up, they were stripped naked, the dogs were biting their feet! And the Algerian soldiers were filming to post on TicToc, saying that it would bring them a lot of views. Afterwards, they were amused to see people suffering with the dogs biting them.

And finally they brought some back, it gives us the opportunity to express ourselves. Because I have sisters with whom we were in the same convoy to take us to Niger. They put their fingers into them, they fingered them, to search, I don't know what they were looking for.

It's really complicated, we are all Africans. I don't know why an African ends up in another African country and has difficulties!

If it's the idea of deporting us, we don't refuse. But if you deport a migrant into the forest, you take his phone, you break it, and you abandon him a two or three days’ drive away without water, without anything, it's so that this person will die! We didn't come to die! We tell ourselves that we are all Africans, we cannot move, arriving in my country, in my continent always, and I have a lot of difficulties in the end.

Today, I am speaking about what my heart is crying out to me. It's just that I have adapted and I have cried enough.

I find myself in Assamaka, but with the expenses and living conditions also in Assamaka where we were left, it's pitiful!

We are in Assamaka, in a small village on the border between Niger and Algeria. But the situation is not good because we are not used to what they are doing. They are not concerned about what we have eaten, but they are managing to make us leave. And we sleep on mats, and it's really complicated for us. (…) Honestly, we are very grateful to this organisation, because they have given us the opportunity to express what is in our hearts.

We hope that APS continues to do a good job, and that the lives of migrants can change, because it is a mess and it is ridiculous."

Testimony of Solène, a Cameroonian migrant deported from Tunisia, Morocco and Algeria

"My name is Solène and I am Cameroonian. I left in 2017 to go and find myself in Europe via the desert. Until now, it has never been easy for me. Everything I have experienced along the way has been really painful. And it's still going on because I'm being sent back to the desert in Niger. When I got to the Moroccan border, what we saw wasn't easy. But we got in. And once in Morocco, there's no work for undocumented migrants. You have to do what we call, in good terms, begging. I begged for my daily bread. It wasn't easy. I swear to you, they spit on you, they insult you, they despise you (...) to be able to buy your daily bread. And then, when we left to go to Europe, I was left there.

When Morocco closed its borders with Spain, I left to go to Tunisia. That's where it all began. When we left Morocco, when we left on the Algerian side, the Algerians took us. They mistreated us. They did horrible things. When they take you to a room to search you, they say they're searching the women. They strip you naked, even your underwear and bras, they take everything off. They put their fingers up your buttocks. They say you've hidden money up there. And when they find your money, they take your phone, they take your SIM cards. They even take your passports, they take your cards, your identity documents. They leave you there like that, in the forest. They just show you the way. You go through there, you go like that, you come out, you don't know where you want to go. We've experienced so much wickedness.

When I was in Morocco, apart from begging for our daily bread, maybe in the morning when you go to say the salam, to beg, that's when you see the mean men, they'll throw words and everything. But we didn't have any problems with being deported or anything like that, we didn't have any problems with that.

That's why we came, I came to Tunisia. When I arrive in Tunisia, it's the same, it's the same. The meanness, they arrest you, they throw you into the desert. I lost a friend in the desert because she was so tired, she didn't even have any water to drink. She died and we had to leave her there. It's thanks to God that I'm alive. It's thanks to God because it's never been easy.

With the nastiness that the Arab countries, I can't call it that, the Arab countries subjected us to throughout our adventure. They rape you. Me in particular, they raped me. It was at the border between Algeria and Morocco. When we arrived, when we entered Morocco, the Moroccans arrested us and handed us over to the Algerians, who took us and arrested us. That's where they came to search us, to see, as they usually do (...). That's how a policeman, while it's time to search you, has (...)."

Testimony of the leader of Nigerian migrant women staying outside in Assamaka, deported from Algeria

I'm the leader of the Nigeria women outside, not inside. They brought us from Algeria and come and drop us here more than one year. Some of us are 10 months, some of us are 8 months here. We don't have any assistance, no accommodation, no nothing, nothing. We don't have even where we can eat food. Everything is very difficult for us. We need your assistance, please. We want you people to pack us and to return us to our country and to help us, give us assistance so that we can get something that we can do. We need accommodation at our country and what we can do to provide ourselves. We have small, small children here. Look at the situation now, the condition. We are in cool weather. Our temperature is not up to this place. This place is very cool than our place. You can help us because of our small, small kids, please. We don't have food, no shelter, nothing, nothing, no accommodation. Please, you people have to assist us. Please, because of the sake of God, please, please and please. We need your assistance, please. We don't have what to do here.  They come and drop us here, nothing, nothing. We are all useless here. Nobody can help us. Please, you people can assist us, please. Return us to our country and give us what we can do and give us money that we can buy accommodation to start new business. Please and please.

Here in Niger, they have many, many organizations, different, different organizations, but no one is come to check us and ask us how are we. We are now in a dumb place here. And our children, we are all beggars. We must beg before we eat for survival. We must beg. We and our children, our small, small children, two years, three years, four years, we must go and beg. We turn now into beggars. We are begging for food to survive. You people should all please look after us, please. (.) We know Niger is a very good country. They are helpers. You people have to help us. You have to look into our situation, please, for God's sake. Help us, please. Thank you.

If you people want to witness, I will show you where we are living to survive. For this situation, this weather is very, very cold. Because it's, I can call it dry season, and harmattan season. For you to agree what I'm saying, you should follow me to go and see where we are living for survival. Come and see!  

Can you see?  Come and enter inside and see where we are living. You can enter inside. Enter inside. You see where we are living. Can you see where we are living? We and our small, small children, can you see? You should please help us people, please. See where we are surviving. As a human being, see where we are surviving. And we are human beings. Because of poverty. Can you see? See where we are living for survival. Can you people see? Because of poverty. See where Nigerian people are living. Can you see? They are all beggars. Guys!  Because, it's all our beggars.

We are all beggars. We must beg for survival.

Men here, they can be really like hundreds. Our men. The women are almost 140, apart from children. The mothers are 140, but the men are 100, apart from children. That is the amount we are having. This is our amount here now.  Almost 140 women and our men, minus children. The amount of our children, there are 250. We mothers are 140, our men are 100. That's our amount. You people should please, for the sake of God, help us."

Testimony of Norbert, a Cameroonian migrant deported from Algeria

"I am Norbert, I am Cameroonian, and I decided to migrate to try my luck to enter Spain, passing through Morocco. But I was lucky enough to cross Niger, the Niger desert, as many did not have the chance to cross.

But unfortunately for me, I arrived in Algeria, which I thought was a wonderful country. As long as I had dreamt about it, I thought it was a wonderful country where there was hospitality. But when we reached the Moroccan border, Algeria stopped us. Wanting to cross the border into Morocco, the Algerian gendarmes stopped us, saying they were going to push us back.

To my great surprise, there were about fifty of us. The question I want to ask everyone listening to me is, when an authority, a gendarme like in Algeria, 3 stars, who is supposed to be the captain of the Algerian army, does he have the right to tear up the passports of people in an irregular situation? I don't know. But my dear brothers, including myself, I also had a Cameroonian passport. My passport was torn up. Before my very eyes, several of my brothers from Guinea, Mali and Chad suffered the same fate as me.

To our great surprise, we were also with the women. The women were raped. I am not speaking because I want to sabotage Algeria. If anyone doubts what I have said, I am not sabotaging Algeria, but I want the whole world to understand that Algeria has a system of operation with regard to illegal immigrants, that I do not know if the immigrant is a criminal. The women who were with us were all raped. More than 30 women, all of them were raped. Those who escaped rape were the pregnant ones. In front of our eyes. It's not that they might say they're going to do it in the back. In front of our eyes. And it shocked me a little. I stripped naked in front of everyone to protest, to shout. But they took the video. When I got to the police station, they beat me. Even where I'm sitting now, I still have the after-effects, my feet are broken.

Now, with the Algerians, we believe that it's over. When you're in a deportation cell. But on the day, before putting us on the bus to deport us, they put us through the scanner. When I say scanner, what do you mean? A search. A manual search. They put on gloves. They search you. You, the man, me who is a man, they searched me right up to sending their fingers into my buttocks. To look for what? It's the money they're looking for. I had 35,000 dinars on me. They took my 35,000 dinars. That's what I want to show you. I have dentures, but they broke them. As you can see. They're broken. My dentures are broken because I have to claim my rights. I have to claim the money they took from me.

They said they were going to send us back to Assamaka. (...) I come from Central Africa, my country is not a desert. Now I find myself in Assamaka. There is an organisation in Assamaka called the IOM. I arrived. I have all my brothers registered. When you want to go home, they help you to go home. But in my place, it's all the people who have already been here for 10 months. They have been here for 10 months after they signed the voluntary return so that they can be helped to go home.

Given the circumstances we have, I can't help wondering if these same people don't have a financial backer who benefits from our image. What does that mean? It's as if we've become a commodity. It's as if, in the 21st century, illegal immigrants have become a commodity.

When we were deported by the Algerians, they would drop us off in Niger. We are in Niger. We also have hospitality. May the people of Niger know that we are their brothers. But they too, with their limited resources, cannot provide us with food. So we are in what is called an ordeal. A primary food ordeal. So when I talk about human need, first of all it's food. It's the basis of everyday social life. I mean, what we're doing here, we're already deported. The trauma we've reached in two years, it's already there.(…) For example, last night, there's a Cameroonian woman here (…)."