At just 16 years old, Agustin Prince began his journey “somewhere”, far from Pouma, a small Cameroonian town in the west of the African country. Prince, who is now 23 and has lived in Spain for the past five years, crumbles memories of the “hardest days” of his life in an intimate story, Prince’s trip (Books of Bad Companies), an autobiographical book he has with support written and launched by the Spanish Commission for Refugee Assistance (CEAR). “My story is just one example of what we all experience when leaving our countries. We didn’t have a choice, we didn’t choose to risk our lives, to suffer like this. And I… at least I managed to survive,” he said in an interview with the newspaper ahead of the release of his first title, due out this Wednesday.
Not knowing what his fate would be, Prince fled the internal armed conflict between Cameroon’s Anglophone and French-speaking regions that erupted in 2016 after the central government made French the official language, according to data released by Human Rights Watch in its latest global report, has left more than 712,000 internally displaced people as a tally. To some figures, more than 340,000 are displaced due to harassment by the terrorist group Boko Haram, which, although mainly based in Nigeria, also has a presence in neighboring countries such as Chad, Niger and Cameroon and is continuing attacks.
If I could have stayed in one of the transit countries, I would have. But you can’t live there, not even God can live there
One day when he and his mother were visiting a neighbor, a group of armed men arrived. “They started hitting and insulting her, I didn’t understand what was going on, they spoke English to her and we are from a French-speaking area. I wanted to defend them, but they broke a glass bottle in my hand,” she says, showing a thick scar crossing her left wrist. “I just remember my mother telling me to run away to save myself. I passed out. When I woke up, I was far from home and I was making my way towards Bamenda, a town that connects Cameroon to Nigeria.”
Over the course of a year, Prince moved from Cameroon to Nigeria, then Niger, Algeria, Morocco and arrived in Tarifa after sailing in a boat for just over eight hours. “Upon arrival in Nigeria, I was quickly greeted by a group of about 30 people who were also fleeing the violence. A few guided us, but all of this came at a price. We had to pay around 500 euros for each place they took us,” he specifies. But he makes it clear that returning to his country is not an option. “There is a belief in the country that if you leave to help your family, returning without having achieved anything is considered shameful. Because of this, many prefer to die trying rather than return without having accomplished anything. I know very well, I have to help improve my family’s life,” he says.
This young Cameroonian tells how he had to beg and steal food in each of the cities he visited on his journey in order to survive. He even claims he was “sold into slavery” when his companions sold him on his way to Algeria to another mafia group who forced him to do construction work to pay for the next route. “We started at five in the morning and the day ended at 10 at night. We only had one meal, very little, and we never saw a single coin for that work. They told us we were in debt. We couldn’t run away because everyone knew everyone.” This ordeal lasted four months until the network considered his debts settled and transferred him to Morocco. “I didn’t know I was going to Spain, if I could have stayed in one of the transit countries I would have. But you can’t live there, not even God can live there,” he says.
The women, even if they have the money, won’t let them continue later because they prostitute them and rape them. Everyone becomes pregnant during the trip.
“It used to be very difficult for me to talk about it, I was very ashamed,” he says with a shy smile. For this reason, after almost three years in psychoemotional therapy, he has decided to deal with the memories that are causing him pain.
I don’t want my story to repeat itself. I have seen many of the people who traveled with me die. Some say that the most dangerous thing is to cross the sea in a boat, but in reality our lives are at risk in any new place,” he reflects. And he continues to allude to his experiences in Algeria: “The migration routes are in the hands of human traffickers. When you arrive in a new country they lock you up in cells, they only release you during the day to go to work. They searched your whole body so you can’t save any money. In these places there is even sexual abuse, not only against women but also against men. And there’s nothing you can do because there’s a gun pointed at your head. You are defenseless”, he remembers and is silent for a long time.
Prince nostalgically remembers the people he met along the way. “I made good friends with a girl, she is still in Algeria. He couldn’t get out. The women, even if they have the money, won’t let them continue later because they prostitute them and rape them. Everyone gets pregnant during the trip,” she laments. “I saw a boy I spoke to die. This happened on the way from Niger to Algeria. They put 30 people in a car that was designed for five. They put us on top of each other in the trunk and then left us in the desert.”
The International Organization for Migration documented the deaths of more than 50,000 people worldwide on migratory journeys between 2014 and 2022. Although the real number is estimated to be much higher. Africa is the second deadliest region for displaced people, according to the agency. While Europe is considered the deadliest destination because “more than half of these deaths occurred within or en route to a European country”.
“I tell this story to heal, to prevent more young people from risking their lives,” he says. His dream is that the Rosine Foundation, which he founded with a Congolese friend a year ago, will grow. Despite the fact that they try to support it with everything they have left from their salaries for the time being, Prince has a very clear goal: to integrate people who are deported to Cameroon through emotional support. “I want to create a space where we can support each other. I do this for my mother, that’s why the foundation bears her name, I want her to be proud of me,” she concludes.
Follow PLANETA FUTURO on TwitterFacebook and Instagram and subscribe to our “Newsletter” here.