Claude, along with his wife and two children, has endured nearly two months in the migrant camp at Cavani Stadium in Mamoudzou, Mayotte. The challenging living conditions, violent encounters with local residents and the prolonged wait for a response to his asylum request have become sources of anxiety for the Congolese. "If all this had to be done again, I wouldn’t do it," he said. Here is his story.
Claude*, originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), arrived in Mayotte on October 27, 2023. Initially housed for a month by Solidarité Mayotte – the association in charge of asylum seekers on the island – with his wife and two children, he was then forced to leave his home, leaving it to other asylum seekers. Since then, the little family has been staying in the Cavani migrant camp in Mamoudzou.
The Minister of the Interior, Gérald Darmanin, announced on Wednesday, January 17 the upcoming dismantling of the Cavani camp. Without giving more details.
"Yesterday, we were attacked. The Mahorais don't want us. I'm not against the demonstrations, I find it good that people are expressing themselves. But here, what I don't understand is violence. It's vicious destruction. There are still women and children in the camp. And we have no choice in living here.
On January 14, at the end of the day, 17 migrants from the Cavani camp were injured in clashes with residents. “Young people attacked the migrants […] with stones, sticks and iron bars, according to the firefighters,” local media Mayotte La 1ère reported. “Whether they are Somalis, Nigeriens or Ivorians, that is not our problem. We no longer want this foreign population massively invading our island,” a local resident is quoted as saying.
Here, there are 123 shelters and nearly 400 people. Congolese people, like me, but also Somalis. With my wife and children, we sleep under a tarpaulin, on a thin foam mattress. I receive a total of 80 euros in food vouchers per month from Solidarité Mayotte: 30 euros per adult and 10 euros per child.
We wash ourselves in the Massimoni basin [a water source near the camp, editor's note]. To drink, we take water from a small stream. It's not very clean, but hey... We try to adapt to this life, we can't always complain. The accommodation system here is saturated, for everyone. With the other occupants of the camp, we are waiting for the authorities to find a solution. But I admit, it's not the welcome I expected in France.
On December 26, the courts rejected the authorities' request for the expulsion of migrants from the Cavani camp. According to the judge, "urgency, which would allow this approach to be justified, has not been demonstrated". The court, however, recognizes “the particularly degraded sanitary conditions of the premises”.
'In the islands, I could have protection'
I didn't choose to live like this. I had a good life at home, before things got out of hand. I was a human rights activist. It was complicated sometimes, but I managed to do my job. And then one day, I received death threats. I took no risks and took my family to Burundi.
There, I obtained protection from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Due to persistent threats, even in that country, I then benefited from a temporary relocation to Tanzania. This program allowed me to work there for three months, which I did. We loved our life in that country, so we wanted to stay. But the visa renewal application was not moving forward. I was afraid of having to go back to Burundi, or worse, to Congo, so I asked for asylum at the French embassy in Tanzania.
None of my requests were successful. In September I was told to wait, in October too. But nothing happened. One day, a Tanzanian came to see me. He told me that 'in the islands' I could have protection, he assured me of that. He told me that he knew people to whom this had happened. I believed him, and above all, I had no other solution. I had to shelter my family.
One morning, with my wife and children, we took to the sea in a big boat. We had something to eat, but it was long and difficult. It lasted several days. Then we made a stopover and took a kwassa kwassa (a Comorian boat, usually used by fishermen, ed.) in the Comoros with other people.
Many migrants from Great Lakes Africa take this migratory route from Dar Es Salam, Tanzania, to Mayotte via the Comoros. Between January 1 and December 1, 2023, nearly 1,500 people from this region submitted a request for asylum in this French overseas department. That is to say a third more than in 2022, according to figures from the French Office for the Protection of Refugees and Stateless Persons (OFPRA).
When I arrived in Mayotte, I requested asylum and had an interview. Now I’m waiting. I worry a lot about my status, it stresses me much more than our living conditions in the camp. How are we going to live if I don't get an answer? What do I have to do? I don't like being given food. I want to work, and have a normal life.
If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't do it. In Congo, I had my place in society. Here, what am I? When peace returns to my home, I will return.”
*The first name has been changed