In Medenine, a desert city in southern Tunisia, an association helps migrant women who have been beaten, often raped, in prisons in the neighboring country. Many have fallen pregnant with their executioner. Here, in peace, far from “Libyan hell”, they are trying to rebuild themselves with their children from these forced relationships.
Leslie Carretero, special correspondent in Tunisia.
Cries and laughter of children echo from the street. The courtyard of the Maison des associations in Medenine is in full swing. Aminata *, Coumba *, Divine, Awa * chat with other women around the swing and the trampoline. Between two discussions, they take a look at their offspring playing in the playground reserved for the youngest.
A lightness that clashes with the chaotic journey of these mothers. The majority of these women were raped in Libya. Here, in Medenine, in this town in southern Tunisia at the entrance to the desert, they find a little comfort. The Maison des associations – managed by eight associations – welcomes them every day with their children, often from an unwanted relationship.
Abdallah heads the Maison des associations de Médenine. Credit: InfoMigrants
Most of these women took to the sea from the Libyan coast to reach Europe. Their boat drifted off Tunisia, and they were rescued by the Tunisian coastguard.
Coumba wanders around the meeting room, pastries in his hands. Her baby, just over a year old, hangs on her back. “The father? I got pregnant in prison in Libya… That’s another story,” evades the 31-year-old Guinean, without giving more details.
Among them, the women rarely evoke their passage in this country described by many as “hell on earth”. Aminata, seated a little further away, on the other hand, wants to speak. That day, she will lead us into a small room, out of sight. During her two-year stay in the country, she spent a year and a half in detention. “I made 9 prisons there”.
“They rape us, we hear them laughing and making fun”
She points to her last one and a half-year-old daughter who never leaves very far – her three other children remained in Ivory Coast with her parents. “She was born in a Libyan prison,” she said modestly. “I love her despite everything, she has nothing to do with it”. In Libya, imprisoned women are victims of sexual violence perpetrated by the guards of clandestine or official prisons.
I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been raped, it’s incalculable
“They [the guards, editor’s note] come to look for us in the cells and take us outside. They rape us in front of the other men. We can hear them laughing and mocking in Arabic because they know that afterward it will be their turn. to pass over us “, details Aminata. “I can’t even tell you how many times this has happened, it’s incalculable.”
Sometimes Aminata stops speaking for a few seconds. Her eyes fill with tears. She catches her breath. “When I tell what I lived, I relive the scene. When I think about it, I want to die”, she justifies herself. Her sister pokes her head around the room. “She also had two daughters in Libya,” she breathes, looking at her.
The Maison des associations allow Aminata to escape from time to time. Language, sewing, hairdressing, computer and cooking workshops are offered to her and to all the others. “We have nothing to do with the home [of the International Organization for Migration, editor’s note], here at least we are busy and we don’t think about anything. When we found out that it existed, we jumped on it. opportunity, ”explains the 33-year-old Ivorian living in a UN agency center on the outskirts of the city.
Mariam gives sewing lessons to migrant women. Credit: Dana Alboz / InfoMigrants
A daycare service also takes care of the children while the parents follow an activity. “It is not always easy to give lessons to this population because many have difficulty concentrating. They are physically present but their mind is elsewhere. They have too many problems in mind and their passage in Libya has left its mark”, says Mariam, a sewing teacher.
“I want to leave from here”
Tired of exile, several women have tried to give up their dream of joining Europe. They applied for asylum at the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in Tunisia. Although a signatory to the Geneva Convention relating to refugees, Tunis does not have the national legal framework necessary for its application. Asylum and protection issues are therefore delegated to UNHCR.
Awa wanted to settle in Medenine. Leaving her native Cameroon in 2017, she has lived in Tunisia for two years after a long stay in Libya. She applied for asylum but her case was rejected. She is waiting for the answer to her appeal.
When she recounts her daily life in Medenine, this 34-year-old mother cannot contain her grief. “My sciatic nerve hurts, I can’t work. I haven’t been able to pay my rent for three months,” she said, sobbing. “I tried but I can’t seem to build my life here. I want to leave.”
Divine also has a heavy heart. Sitting on a plastic chair in the courtyard, she tells her story, as if she doesn’t want to forget anything. At times, her hands start to shake and sadness darkens her face. She fled Nigeria in 2014 because of her homosexuality and cannot find peace in Tunisia.
“I have scars all over the place, look at the marks on my body”
Living in Libya for five years, she had three children with a Nigerian. “I suffered too much in my country so for a long time I hid my sexual preferences”, explains the 40-year-old mother. Divine did not want to join Europe when she arrived, but the situation in Libya changed her plans. “I was kidnapped by militias, one day I tried to cross the Mediterranean”. She pauses her story and lifts the sleeves of her yellow sweater. “I have scars all over the place, look at the marks on my body.”
Divine poses with two of her children in the courtyard of the Maison des associations. Credit: Dana Alboz
Recovered at sea with her children by the Tunisian coast guard in 2019, she applied for asylum. But “despite the evidence of [his] sexual orientation,” his case was dismissed last year. Like Awa, Divine has filed an appeal and is awaiting a response. “I feel in danger here, it’s hard to start a new life in Tunisia,” she says.
The humanitarians who work at the Maison des associations feel very alone in their fight. There is no immigration and integration policy in Tunisia. “We do what we can. We help them get out of their complicated situation by finding them work and supporting them in their administrative procedures because no one explains the procedure to them. It’s difficult, every day, we has exceptional cases”, assures Abdallah Saïd, the president of the structure.
For Aminata, like the other women in the center, the daily life in Tunisia remains a test. “The only difference is that there is no rape and beatings here, otherwise it’s the same. Tunisia is killing us slowly.” The discussion stops, an English class has started in the next room, the students need some calm to concentrate. Aminata, she goes back to the Medenine home, exhausted. “I had never told about my life in Libya, it was not easy but I have the impression that it made me feel good”.
