MOHAMMAD*, a young Syrian man of 24, climbs the steps of the ship. He has bright and tired eyes, looks around, and after the first few steps on deck, breathes a sigh of relief. Then he looks up at the sky and smiles. After an agony lasting seven hours in the open sea, he is safe. We are on board the Life Support, the Emergency NGO’s search and rescue boat in the Mediterranean Sea.
“The project was set up in 2022 after years of experience as shore-based subjects during the disembarkation of shipwrecked people and providing medical support on board other NGO ships”, says Alessandro Bertani, Emergency’s vice-president. “We have always worked in difficult conditions, in favour of the victims of war and poverty – with Life Support, we continue this work also at sea because those we save are desperately looking for a chance to survive rather than to live better.”
The ship’s crew is international. Alongside the Ukrainian, Azerbaijani and Romanian seafarers, there is the Emergency team. The days at sea are marked by the rhythm of the waves and the drills (training for sea rescue and post-rescue organisation). The division of tasks is well set out. Various teams have a specific role on the ship – a SAR (search and rescue) team employed in sea rescue with the RHIBs (rigid hull inflatable boats); a hospitality team that first welcomes shipwrecked people on board and a medical team, consisting of a doctor and two nurses. Finally, there’s the logistics team and two cultural mediators.
Everyone on board does shifts on a daily basis cleaning common areas, listening to radio communications and observing the sea on the bridge. If a boat in distress is sighted, a general alert will be raised from here. Ani, a woman from Asturias, and Maria, from Italy, co-ordinate the operations. Master of the ship is Domenico, an Italian man with a long sailing experience behind.
“Another day on board the Life Support begins.”
This is how daily meetings begin at 9am, with Ani giving updates to the crew and outlining the activities to be carried out: “Today, we will start at 9.30am with drills. Each person must be ready in the position decided in previous meetings.”
Some people go to the outside deck to smoke a cigarette, others drink coffee in the mess room, until the radio communication of a rescue simulation arrives and everyone mobilises according to personal tasks. This is repeated daily, with training even in the evenings, ready for any eventuality, in any sea conditions and at any time.
After a few days of sailing, the ship enters the Maltese SAR zone.
“From now on, we must be ready for anything and keep our radios on at a high volume,” Ani motivates the team while the sea becomes increasingly rough.
A few hours pass and co-ordinators summon the crew for an emergency meeting.
“We have received a mayday relay from Frontex (the European Border and Coast Guard Agency) aircraft Sparrow 4 spotting around 40 people on board the Tunisian gas platform MISKAR, we are sailing there, it’s a few miles away, be ready to intervene.”
A little later comes the radio call. It is time to take action.
Reaching the area, the RHIBs are lowered into the water and head towards the platform.
“We have clearance for you to approach,” Ani informs us. We are on one of the two RHIBs. Ian, a Swedish helmsman in his seventies, picks up speed, the waves keep rising and there’s a strong wind. The platform is only a few meters away, “I can see them, they are near the stairs,” shouts Bader, Life Support’s cultural mediator from Morocco.
The structure is supported by tall pylons and is accessed by a flight of stairs that seems to disappear in the waves. The shipwrecked people are barricaded nearby, scrambling. Not far away an empty dinghy drifts by. Ani asks the RHIB to move 500 meters away.
Minutes pass and there is no more communication with Life Support. These are frantic moments, tension on board is high and no action can be taken. “Get back to the mothership,” Ani suddenly orders. On the RHIB, everyone looks at each other and a shout of disapproval rips through the silence.
Hours pass, the light of a naval unit approaches the platform and the Frontex plane moves away. The flickering glow of a torch held by the castaways disappears.
The RHIB team remain at sea, while part of the team return on board. “We made you come back after MISKAR suddenly refused to let you approach, despite an initial green light, asking us to hand over the shipwrecked people to a Tunisian naval unit. We refused, Tunisia is not a safe port,” Ani reveals in an emergency evening meeting.
During the rescue attempt, Life Support tried to get in touch with the Maltese and Italian MRCC (Maritime Rescue Co-ordination Centre) without receiving a response.
The denial of intervention comes nine months after the memorandum signed in Tunis between the EU and Tunisia, providing for the European Commission to donate €105 million to the North African country for migration management and strengthening of coastal controls.
As leaked by a Financial Times article on March 25, 2024, after a series of disagreements over the disbursement of the funds, an estimated €164m will instead be given to the Tunisian Security Forces, despite criticism from various humanitarian organisations such as Human Rights Watch.
“The Tunisian authorities have forcibly repatriated people fleeing by boat who risk serious harm in Tunisia,” said Lauren Seibert, refugee and migrant rights researcher for Human Rights Watch, in July.
“By these fundings, the EU shares responsibility for the suffering of migrants, refugees and asylum seekers in Tunisia.”
During the night, Life Support continues search and rescue operations by staying close to the platform.
“We tried to get in touch with MISKAR without ever receiving a response – these are the conditions in which we operate,” reports Ani with a sigh at the end of the meeting.
“That scene stuck in my mind,” says Bader. “We were thrilled to save those people and really close to them. I was ready to calm them down by telling them that we would take everyone away.”
His voice is choked with anger and his gaze is fixed on the sea.
“I could clearly see two children and some women, then the call to turn back …”
Even today, Life Support’s enquiry about the outcome of the rescue operations and the place where the shipwrecked people were taken has not been answered.
Night falls and Life Support heads towards the Libyan SAR – then there is a long wave and the ship is swaying. Suddenly, Ani’s voice resounds on all the radios: “To all emergency staff, we made visual contact with a boatload, prepare for rescue operations.”
Only a few hours have passed since the previous intense day, but there is no time to reflect; the action comes again.
From the outside deck, a boat overcharged with people can be seen, very close to Life Support.
“We are an Italian humanitarian organisation, stay calm,” shouts Tareq, Life Support’s cultural mediator from Syria, through a megaphone. Within seconds, the RHIBs are lowered in the water – there is not much time.
“It was a close approach, a very risky situation,” says Nicola, an Italian SAR Team rescuer working on one of the two RHIBs.
“Given the long wave, the boat could have capsized, so we distributed the life jackets as quickly as possible.”
When the RHIB approached the distressed boat, Nicola was struck by the fact that it had a double deck.
“There were people below deck, a strong smell of petrol. Right away I noticed a man lying motionless,” he recounts. “We thought he had fainted, we were very worried”.
Fortunately, no-one was left behind. All the shipwrecked people were brought aboard Life Support. Most, exhausted by fatigue, can hardly stand. One woman barely walks, in her gaze all the pain of an endless journey.
Sara, a Sardinian nurse and medical team leader, welcomes them one by one, checking their health conditions with the team.
“Many are suffering from dehydration and physical pain from the journey,” she explains on the deck.
Late in the evening, the sea swells.
The shipwrecked people are 52 in all and come from Pakistan, Bangladesh, Syria, Egypt and Nigeria. The emergency team takes them to the shelter area – a place on the ship where there is a little health clinic. After further medical checks, there are no serious clinical cases.
Domenico comes down from the bridge to meet the shipwrecked a few hours after the rescue.
“I inform you that the Italian authorities have given us the port of Catania to disembark, tomorrow evening you will be in Italy.”
A round of applause breaks out. Ahmed*, a 24-year-old from Aleppo, embraces Abdel* and Mohammad, his fellow travellers.
“We left from Zwara, Libya, last night. The sea was very rough, we were forced to walk through the waves before reaching the boat, the water was up to our chests. We were all afraid of drowning,” he recalls.
He arrived in Jordan and travelled to Lebanon, where he stayed for three years.
“Four months ago, I took the decision to leave for Libya,” Ahmed continues.
“This is the second time I have tried the crossing, the Libyans have always treated us badly, we were even captured by a militia that asked $2000 each to release us.
“Once we were free, we decided to try again together; we had no choice.”
The three recount the journey at sea. They paid $8500 in Jordan, “a nightmare, we were taking on water and shifted turns to get it off the boat. Then we spotted you – you were salvation”.
Abbas*, a 44-year-old Egyptian, listens to the conversation and nods. He speaks good Italian, and has lived and worked for several years on the peninsula.
“One night I chose to return to Egypt, I missed my family – it was the biggest mistake I could have made,” the man recounts.
“There you have no freedom of thought, the currency is no longer worth anything and you suffer a lot.”
Back in Egypt, Abbas became depressed. He could not find a job and getting a visa for Italy was increasingly difficult. So he decided to retry the journey through Libya and together with the other 51 people, he took to the sea.
“When I saw your RHIBs and heard you were Italians, I couldn’t believe it. For me, this travel was the last hope, you made me reborn, I was no longer interested in living or dying, I was already dead in Egypt.”
It’s dinner time. Kabir* takes his ration of food. He is 31 years old and comes from Bangladesh, “I was detained by the Libyans for two months, they beat me every day, they only released me after paying them,” says the man.
“Ten days later, I decided to take the boat and escape.”
He was not afraid – it was his last chance after years of harassment and exploitation.
In the distance, the snow-capped peak of Mount Etna can be seen, Catania is now a few hours away. A young man points to the mainland, Abbas smiles and hugs him. Kabir rests his hands on the taffrail and stares at Sicily, a group of his compatriots huddle around him.
On board, there is a surreal silence broken only by the rustle of the wind. Life Support docks in the Sicilian port. Almost 30 hours have passed since the rescue. Mohammad slowly descends the steps of the ship, looks toward the crew and greets them, then finally sets foot ashore, welcomed by the Italian authorities. He has left behind the violence of Libya and the dangerous swaying of the boat with which he attempted the Mediterranean crossing. A new journey lies ahead of him – perhaps another life, a different future
*Names changed to protect the safety of the people interviewed
