Migrants in Rome
Since moving back to Rome, I have noticed a substantial increase of young African men begging in the street. They were not there when I first lived in Rome half a decade ago. At the time, the African presence in the eternal city was mainly represented by Senegalese salesmen selling counterfeit luxury brands. They had a well established and quite profitable business and were able to send money back home to support their relatives. They were part of the Roman economy for tourists and even the police turned a blind eye.
Now whenever I go to my local market, the administration office, the doctor, or any other shop, there will be a young African man helplessly standing outside of the front door, begging for help. I usually stop for a chat, inquiring about their own personal story. Most of the people I have spoken to come from Nigeria, Edo State in particular, and have crossed Africa by bus before reaching a port in Libya to cross the sea into Italy. They are extremely vague about the itinerary they took; most probably they were taken care of and didn’t have to plan the journey themselves. They all say the same: they have left their country for political and economic reasons. One of them in particular, Wilson (not his real name), told me that his life was in danger because he had opposed the government and the rigged local elections in Edo state. He doesn’t have a family of his own yet, he is just hoping to find a job and live a peaceful life in Europe. “I don’t want to live in fear anymore,” he said. Other migrants have left their young families behind and are hoping to bring them over one day. Some want to stay in Italy, others have plans to move to Scandinavia where there are more job opportunities. For Nigerian nationals, it is even harder because they do not have refugee status. They are considered economic migrants even if they are fleeing political instability as well as economic hardship. They struggle harder to become legal because their country is not on the priority list.
Most refugees live in a camp in Castelnuovo de Porto, a small suburban town, north of Rome (which I haven’t yet visited). “We’re in a big town building, a bit like this one [pointing at a 1920s apartment block in the Prati neighbourhood], we are sharing rooms and meals with the other guys,” Wilson told me. In the morning, they take the regional train to Rome where they spend their day on the street, looking for odd work. It is mainly in winter that we see them begging, as in summer they may get casual labour in the fields. They say it is very hard to find work in Italy; they often feel that local people are reluctant to employ black men, so they are just waiting for their papers to move to northern Europe. They do receive some support in the form of legal aid and language tuition, but they are unable to explain who it is given by, whether the government or local associations.
They all refused to have their picture taken. They are terrified that it may circulate online and be seen by their local community back home. That would be the biggest shame of all for them: to be seen begging in the streets of Europe instead of having a lucrative job.
