Spain, Almeria province —
On a hot, sunny summer afternoon, Amoaten Foster leans against a table in an improvised outdoor classroom in southern Spain, facing outward toward improvised student seating. This is not an unfamiliar environment for Foster, 44, who was a math teacher in Ghana. He made the perilous journey through the Sahel to Libya, then crossed the Mediterranean Sea into Italy and finally arrived in Spain.
He currently lives in an informal migrant settlement in the province of Almeria, where he and thousands of other workers work in seemingly countless greenhouses in sunny regions to produce the fruits and vegetables that sustain Europe throughout the winter. Conditions are tough and pay is abysmal for those in more precarious situations.
“It’s not easy to be here without the right documents,” he said, reflecting on his life in Spain. Like many people on the African continent and elsewhere, he was drawn to Europe by the promise of better jobs and a better life. However, reality did not meet his expectations and turned out to be immeasurably harsher and worse in many ways.
“People on the outside of the fence might think things are rosy here,” he says. “It’s not all rosy here.”
And the more he shows us his current home, Don Domingo de Arriba, the more it becomes clear.
Hundreds of people live with Foster in squalid conditions in makeshift neighborhoods built using everything from bricks and mortar to tires and plastic scraps. This is an unrealistic scenario in 21st century Europe, with no official electricity supply or running water.
CNN identified at least four of these settlements in the area around Nijar, northeast of the city of Almería.
“Look at the environment we live in. It’s not good, but we’re managing just because we found ourselves here. It’s not going to be easy to go back,” Foster said.
As men, women and children poured into the autonomous city of Ceuta across the Moroccan-Spanish border at the end of July, Europe’s populist and anti-immigration politicians capitalized on shocking images of human despair. They have also prompted several right-wing governments in Europe to criticize the current Spanish government, particularly its approach to immigration.
There has also been a growing backlash from populist politicians against charities and other organizations working on the front lines of this torrent of human suffering, with some critics accusing them of creating conditions that attract more migrants.
“All we do is help people who have nothing,” said Sister Francisca, 80, coordinator of the local chapter of the Mercedalian Sisters of Charity, a Catholic religious group, in response to the criticism.
There is no reason for them to come, neither for us nor for other organizations that support immigrants,” she said. They want a more dignified life and a job that fulfills them and allows them to earn money and send money to their families. ”
Her organization supports language lessons and skills workshops to help recent arrivals get a foothold in Spain. But importantly, they are also distributing food baskets donated by local supermarkets and charities to those most in need.
“Anyone can come to our door. … The most common thing is to ask for a sandwich and say they’re hungry. It’s a basic necessity,” Sister Francisca said.
At the group’s food distribution center in San Isidro, a colleague, Sister Estela, 61, prepares and distributes food baskets. She checks each person’s identity details against a database to understand how often people are visiting the center and calls them one by one.
“We’re so happy to be able to do it because people really need it to eat and to survive,” she said. “But it’s still painful to watch.”
On a busy day, the sisters say they can help about 50 families. When there are few donations, it is around 20.
Outside the center was Amal, 36, a Moroccan mother of two. She left her children with her mother and sister when she came to Spain to pick strawberries seven months ago. She said she lost her job due to a disagreement with her employer and is now desperate for any job.
“It’s hard. … I don’t have a job, I don’t have a place to live, I don’t have documents. My children are far away,” she said, holding back tears as she flipped through photos of her children on her phone.
Restoring the dignity of people like Amal, who did not want her last name used because of her weakness, is the main goal of Sister Francisca’s organization.
“A simple gesture, a glance, a reaching out. That can make a difference. It can lead to the words, ‘You are just like me,'” the nun told CNN. “We are older and poorer, but we are trying to improve the standard of living for these people. We are all children of God and have the right to dignity and respect.”
Although the overall number of irregular migrants across Europe fell year-on-year in the first five months of this year, many people still risk their lives to reach the continent, and some routes are seeing an increase.
One of these is what Frontex, the European Union’s border agency, defines as the Western Mediterranean route, which includes the route from Algeria and Morocco to southern Spain, including the area around Almeria.
One of these is what Frontex, the European Union’s border agency, defines as the Western Mediterranean route, which includes the route from Algeria and Morocco to southern Spain, including the area around Almeria.
The region is known as the vegetable garden of Europe, as more than 3.5 million tonnes of fresh produce is shipped to European markets each year. This is enough to feed about 500 million people, according to some estimates.
“A few years ago there were no greenhouses or immigrants,” Sister Francisca recalls. “There’s a lot of work going on in the greenhouse right now. When the greenhouse opens, people will come.”
Depending on the time of year, the greenhouses produce small crops such as peppers, tomatoes, watermelons, and cucumbers on acres so vast they can be seen from space, earning the region another, less flattering nickname: the “Plastic Ocean.”
But with demanding intermediaries and powerful supermarket chains competing to sell at the lowest possible prices, Almeria’s owners say they are forced to rely on cheap labor to make any profit. That’s where immigrants like Amal and Foster come into the picture.
“They need us,” he said.
According to government data, more than 70,000 people in Almería are registered with social security as working in agriculture. Trade unions and NGOs claim that official figures do not include a significant number of illegal immigrants involved in agricultural operations. They estimate that there are more than 110,000 workers, 90% of whom are believed to be foreigners.
Those with proper paperwork often earn at least 8 euros ($9.25) an hour, even if there are reports of exploitation. But some undocumented people told CNN that it could be a little more than half that number.
“If you keep working the same way, in a hot environment, on your knees, you get five euros,” Foster said. “How much can I save?”
Other workers CNN spoke to shared similar figures, with some managers suggesting some are working for wages as low as 4 euros an hour.
The government says it is trying to change the situation not just here but across the country, introducing an amnesty program to give nearly half a million illegal immigrants who have been in the country for at least five months a chance to get their documents in order.
The influx of people has brought transformation to some places in the form of restaurants, shops, and mosques that cater to their needs. Arabic and French signs appeared where previously Spanish was the only language. And despite the clear need for immigration, anti-immigrant sentiment has increased significantly in the area surrounding the city of Almería. The xenophobic graffiti that reads “No Muslims allowed” can be seen here and there, a clear sign of the tensions brewing beneath the surface.
Spain’s radical right-wing party Vox made its first regional breakthrough in 2018, catapulting it onto the national stage in the Andalusia region of southern Spain, which includes Almeria and other cities.
Andalusia has one of the highest proportions of foreign residents in Spain. Most of them end up working in agriculture or hospitality, but some of those coming from abroad include retirees from Scandinavia.
Nearly a decade later, populist movements have gained momentum and are emboldened to adopt increasingly aggressive rhetoric against immigrant communities in the region, especially Muslims.
In La Cañada, a suburb of Almeria, one of Vox’s bases, these stories are paying off. Earlier this year, the radical right-wing party finished second in Almería’s local elections, beating Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s centre-left Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party (PSOE) at the local level.
In this quintessentially working-class region of Spain, things have changed too quickly for many, even though the overall number of arrivals from North Africa has declined and, according to one study by the independent think tank Funcas, 90% of Spain’s illegal immigrants actually come from Latin America.
“These are people who don’t want to integrate,” said one resident, 68, who gave his name as Rosendo. “I have two people[working for me]and they don’t want to do it.”
Francisco, 79, a local resident, said, “We just let people who want to work or bring documents come and that’s it.The rest is an invasion.” “I think it’s an invasion, but there are no guns.”
Their statements are familiar echoes of far-right tropes that have taken hold in discourse not only in Spain but across Europe. Across the continent, the same paradox that certain types of migration are needed and unwanted continues to be debated and becomes increasingly noisy.
For now, the current Spanish government has risen above the noise, refusing to reverse course on its regularization program and defending what Prime Minister Sánchez calls a “sensible, fair and responsible” migration policy.
“The government understands that they need our help and we are helping them, and they are helping us,” Foster said. “It’s a mutual benefit.”
Joe Duran contributed to this report.
