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![Omayma, 21, from Morocco. Photographed in international waters mid-way between Libya and Italy, in the Mediterranean Sea.
I had a lot of problems with my father, as did all my siblings. There are four of us, with me in the middle. My father’s a drug addict. He didn’t give us money to go to school, so we dropped out. He had no job. Although he was healthy, he’d sleep at home all day, so my mother worked as a housekeeper to feed us. He used to beat my mum with a belt, over and over until she bled. He’d come home and beat us all with anything within reach.
One Friday, my dad was drunk and asked me to get him some money by any means I could, even if it meant prostituting myself. Again and again he pulled my hair, pushed me around and banged my head against the wall until my nose bled. The drugs had made him mad. My mother and I were under such stress that we used to faint a lot. When I told my mum we should call the police, she got angry and said we should be patient. She said if we reported him, we’d all be out on the street as the house was his.
When I told my mother I wanted to go to Europe, she was sad and tried to stop me. She asked me how I could leave her when she was sick. She said I should stay and find a job and maybe get married. But I’m too young to get married. I asked her for money for the journey and promised that I’d return it once I’d educated myself. She was worried I’d die. “What will I do if you die?” she asked me. I replied that if I died, she should forgive me.
I flew to Tunisia and took a bus from Tunis to my uncle’s house near the border. I couldn’t stay with him because he can barely feed his own children. We talked with people who could put me on a boat to Europe. The smuggler took me to a house in Sabrata [on the Libyan coast, 100 km east of the Tunisian border] with other women and young men and we stayed there for a couple of months. They beat the men, but the girls were well treated.
I paid them 20,000 Moroccan dirhams [1,800 euros] – mum borrowed the money from the family she works for. One night they came to us and told us to collect our things quickly because it was time to go. When I took the boat I saw death with my own eyes. There was 20 cm of water in the bottom of the boat. There were a lot of young kids, I couldn’t even lift my head because I was so seasick – I threw up many times.
They gave us lifejackets, but they turned out to be fake. When we found out, the young men in the boat – Moroccans and Syrians – started arguing and fighting. The women and children were terrified we’d capsize. The sea is very dangerous. I’ll never take a boat like that again.
I thank God that no one assaulted me and that I was saved. I will continue my education. I will learn a new language and find a job. I want to help my mother, because otherwise she’ll work as a housekeeper forever. My father will carry on doing nothing. I couldn’t go back to Morocco, I’d rather die.](https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw/http%3A%2F%2Fprod-upp-image-read.ft.com%2Fb3b63374-bfd1-11e7-b8a3-38a6e068f464?source=next&fit=scale-down&dpr=2&width=240)
Financial Times
International Edition