Hiba, 21, was among the approximately 70,000 people who entered the Ceuta enclave on July 30, 2026. The young Moroccan woman says she was influenced by social media | Photo: Constantin Jallot
Hiba, 21, was among the approximately 70,000 people who entered the Ceuta enclave on July 30, 2026. The young Moroccan woman says she was influenced by social media | Photo: Constantin Jallot

Hiba, a 21-year-old Moroccan woman, was among the more than 70,000 migrants who crossed the Moroccan border into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta on July 30. She spent a day and a night behind the border before returning to Morocco. The young woman explains that it was her working conditions, as well as testimonies from young Moroccans posted on social media, that prompted her to leave. Here’s her story.

Constantin Jallot, in Tetouan, Morocco

On July 30, some 70,000 people crossed the border between Morocco and the Spanish enclave of Ceuta within 24 hours. Among the reasons for this influx are the aspirations for a better life among young Moroccans discouraged by unemployment, low wages, and the lack of social protection. But also the influence of social media, where some young people who have reached Europe boast of leading a supposedly very comfortable life there.

"The idea of ​​migrating came to me after seeing a girl my age on Instagram recounting her clandestine crossing into Ceuta in 2024 and her new life in Spain. Now, she's known throughout almost all of Morocco, with over 2 million followers on social media. She's the one who convinced me that I had to leave irregularly. I live in Tetouan, and I knew that to do so, I had to cross by sea, and I can't swim; I'm terrified of going in the water. A friend supported me in the water and helped me cross.

I wouldn't have left if I had passed my Baccalaureate. At the time, I was 18, and I thought that whether I passed or not, I was going to get married and settle down in the family home. I didn't understand the value of education. I was addicted to my phone, YouTube, and Instagram… But when I failed my baccalaureate exam, I bitterly regretted it.

'Many of us don't know if we'll even get paid'

At 19, I found a job at a clothing factory near my home. At the factory, my salary didn't exceed 2,500 dirhams a month (about 240 euros). But I ended up resigning this June because I was working 14 to 15 hours a day.

Since the end of June, I've been going to the clothing factory often; they still owe me my salary for my last month of work, the one before I resigned. But every time, they tell me: "Go away, there's nothing here, come back another time." I'm not the only one in this situation; there are many of us in Morocco working without knowing if we'll actually get paid at the end of the month.”

About 60 to 80 percent of the working population in Morocco is employed informally, meaning their work is undeclared, according to a November 2025 report by the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (ECA).

"Today, I work as a cleaner. Cleaning a place can take me all day. Depending on the location, I'm paid between 70 and 100 dirhams (between 6.50 and 9.50 euros). But I prefer this to taking money from my parents.

'Everyone's going, try it too!'

On that day, July 30, I was supposed to work in the early afternoon. I was waiting for the colleague who was taking us to the company when I saw a photo on Instagram of two girls who had managed to enter Ceuta. They were smiling with their fingers in the shape of a V for victory. Other messages said that many young people were leaving for the enclave.

I even received a message from a friend in Tetouan telling me: 'Everyone's going, you should try it too!' She later regretted encouraging me after seeing all the deaths.”

The human toll of the migration and humanitarian crisis remains unknown: there have been at least 14 deaths according to Morocco, 80 according to Spain, and 141 according to the Moroccan Association for Human Rights (AMDH).

"But at that moment, at the roundabout where I was, an informal taxi driver arrived and asked me where I was going. Without thinking too much, I blurted out: 'Fnideq,' the Moroccan city near Ceuta.

I come from a modest family; my father sells vegetables at the market. He fought all his life to be able to build us a house, furnish it… He took it upon himself for years so that we would never lack anything. My relationship with them is very beautiful, yet I didn't tell them anything about my departure until I was in Ceuta.

'The life I want to lead, I haven't found it here in Morocco'

My goal is to leave and live my own life, have my own house, dress how I want, and go out whenever I want. I want peace and quiet, without anyone bothering me. I want a stable job where, if I work hard, I'll be rewarded at the end of the month. If I have to work like a slave, I might as well earn some money at the end of the month. Here, when my father asks me if I'm saving money, I'm ashamed to admit that I end the month on credit. The life I want to lead, I haven't found it here in Morocco.”

Hiba hesitated to take part in the new wave of migration, announced on August 15 on social media, but pressure from her mother and the significant police reinforcements that had been announced dissuaded her.

"Our country is beautiful, but it’s beautiful for those who have money. I just love the Netherlands, Spain, and even all of Europe. I’d honestly like to live in any country, in a big city, to walk at night on a wide avenue with beautiful buildings… But for that, you need to work legally, or have a lot of money in your account. I have none of that; I don’t even have a bank account, so all my visa applications are denied. But I will be patient.”