Ismail was rescued at sea by MSF in 2015. He now works with MSF to help other refugees and migrants. Here is his story.
When Ismail, a Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) team member, was forced to leave his native Eritrea, he faced a perilous journey across multiple countries and the Mediterranean Sea to reach safety. In the months that followed, he faced detention, disease, violence, kidnapping and saw many people die. Now he works for MSF, fluent in eight languages, helping recently arrived migrants, asylum seekers and refugees like him access the medical care they desperately need.
Ismail, a community health worker for Doctors Without Borders (MSF) in Belgium
In 2015, when I was studying engineering at university, a loved one passed away. I took a break from my studies, but I lost focus and the situation in Eritrea was worsening.
In Eritrea, anyone who is not a student or government employee is forced to join the army and has no choice but to leave the country, a situation that has been well documented by the United Nations and other organizations.
I had no choice but to go. Seeking asylum in neighbouring Sudan was not a good option, as there are around 2 million Eritrean refugees there, many of whom are in refugee camps and still languishing. I was left with only one option: to go to Libya.
There is no legal route from Sudan to Libya for people in my situation. Near the border, I was held by traffickers for a month until I could pay. The conditions were brutal. We were crammed into a windowless room, sleeping sideways like sardines in a box. They gave us very little to eat as a ploy to get us to pay.
The worst that could happen was that I would die, and at any stage of the journey, death was preferable to staying there or going back.
I felt sick, had a headache, couldn't eat. People told me I had malaria. They said it was impossible to get medical help. When we finally made our way to Tripoli, I was so weak I couldn't stand up and the guards beat me. I couldn't get back into the truck, so they threatened to shoot me. I said, 'I'm going to die anyway, so go ahead.' I really thought I was going to die. The guards were shocked, but thankfully people helped me into the truck.
After the drive, we were held for two weeks until we paid again for our trip to Italy. The final stage of the journey was a 12-hour drive through the desert hiding in an empty water tanker to avoid kidnapping, a constant risk in Libya. We had little choice. There were 50 people in the vehicle, including men, women and children. The temperature was easily 113 degrees. People were vomiting, passing out and getting burned every time they touched the hot metal walls of the tank.
Rescue at sea
In Tripoli they waited two weeks for the sea conditions to improve, and finally set sail in the middle of the night.
I had heard stories of boats capsizing and people drowning, and I had programmed my brain to be prepared. The worst that could happen was to die, and at any stage of the journey, dying was better than staying there or going back.
Another boat approached. The armed men on board were part of a kidnapping ring. They threatened us and took us back to Libya. They told us we had to pay $1,500 to be released. At that point, I was ready to die before I could ask my family again. I owe it all to my family. There were 350 people in the center, about 200 of whom paid. Those who couldn't pay were starved, tortured, beaten and shot.
And then, unexpectedly, we were released: in Tripoli, the original smugglers allowed us to board the boat again. It was an incredible relief.
Finally we saw a ship approaching: MSF.
If I had to stay in Tripoli, I don't know if I would have survived. The government was barely functioning at the time. There was no safety on the streets. I met people who escaped from where we were being held, only to be kidnapped again the same day and tortured until they were able to pay a ransom. I had nowhere to go and no one to trust.
There were 650 people crammed into the ship (at sea). I was in the cargo hold. It was the worst place. It was dark, there was nowhere, and people started fainting. Just after 11 a.m., I called for help by satellite phone. I didn't know what was going to happen.
Finally we saw a ship approaching: MSF.
Pregnant women and children were removed first, then everyone else. We were given food, water and blankets. I cannot describe in words how I felt and how much relief I felt.
During the journey I saw many people die from the heat, lack of food, lack of medical care, torture of those who couldn't pay, etc. The whole journey was survival of the fittest.
Once on board the MSF ship, there were doctors and nurses, dry clothes, medicines and assistance. I felt safe. That was on September 2, 2015.
The European journey continues
We docked in Crotone, in the south of Italy. The refugee center was surrounded by guards and 2.5-metre-high barbed wire. Everyone was scared. We had no information about the rules, the laws and what would happen to us.
We then took a bus to our new camp in Bologna. They asked us if we wanted to stay in Italy, and 99% of us said no. Many of us knew people who stayed in Italy and were suffering. They had no support, they were pushed out onto the streets, they couldn't find work even though they had the right to work. We all carried the trauma of the journey, the situation we had escaped from, the pressure of the money we had to borrow, and the burden of families back home who needed help. Very few of us were ready to stop, even though we were 99% of our destination.
By chance I met a family, Vittoria, Rosa and Jacob, who were helping refugees and whose kindness I will never forget. With their help I was able to get in touch with my family and get some rest for a few days.
We were all carrying the trauma of the journey, the situations we had gotten ourselves out of, the pressure of money we had to borrow, and families back home who needed our help.
Then I went to Germany. I was able to go to a refugee centre in Munich, but the attitude of the police and guards, and the racism I heard, made me feel like I had to run away. My uncle lives in Germany and he helped me buy a ticket to Belgium, where my aunt lives. That was the first time I saw him in the flesh. He left Eritrea in the 70s and was not allowed to return. I can't describe the feeling I had at that moment.
I met my cousins at his house. We talked all night and I got in touch with my wife in Eritrea. The next day I went to Belgium to see my aunt.
Visa is 7 years
After being granted asylum in Belgium, I started learning Dutch as hard as I could. I wanted to continue my engineering studies at university but my Dutch skills were not yet at a technical level, so on the advice of the employment office I started training to be an electrician instead. I also started working towards a family reunification visa for my wife.
It took seven years and multiple applications, denials and appeals for my wife to receive a visa, during which she made a very dangerous journey to Ethiopia and had to live alone for years in deteriorating health. I was desperate, working every hour I could to hire a lawyer to take on our case.
Finally the visa was granted in October 2023 and in the same month we celebrated her birthday together in Belgium. It was a beautiful moment.
Helping others with MSF
I've been living in Belgium for eight years and now speak eight languages, which I use in my work as a community health worker with Médecins Sans Frontières, helping refugees and migrants access healthcare.
Most of the people I help are Eritrean, like me, and I see them every day suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder from what they experienced on their journey, but they often say they had to take these risks because the conditions they left behind were even worse.
Sometimes, people manage to cope until they reach Europe, but harmful policies leave them isolated, losing hope and their mental health deteriorates. There are suicides every year in our communities.
It's special to work with recent arrivals who have been through so much, because I was in their shoes many years ago.
The services I had in 2015 are now much harder to access. The MSF project I am part of primarily targets these disadvantaged populations. They are forced to live in squatter settlements, camps and shelters, and the outreach team I am part of aims to connect them to mental health, medical care, health promotion, and infection prevention and control. We particularly see the most marginalized people, those most excluded from accessing care, shelter and protection.
It's special working with recent arrivals who have been through so much, because I was in their shoes many years ago.
Humanitarian Heart
There are many stereotypes about migrants. But I know that there are thousands of people like me who have had to flee very difficult situations. Since I arrived here, I have been working mostly seven days a week. I still work as a food delivery boy next to my work with MSF, so I can continue to support my family. Refugees and migrants contribute to the economy and development of the countries where they live. We just want to build a future.
Sometimes I remember what happened on the Doctors Without Borders ship when we were rescued. I spoke to an Iraqi cultural mediator at the time. I asked him what qualifications I needed to one day do a job like his, helping those most in need. He told me that I didn't need a fancy degree, just good communication skills and a humanitarian heart. Now, many years later, here I am.
