By: Catherine Constantinides
“Are the Saharawi a forgotten people, or is it just easier to
turn a blind eye to an illegal occupation?”, asks Catherine
Constantinides
As we celebrate Africa month and honour a continent that has nurtured
us, we embrace the rich diversity, culture and heritage that we share
as a people of Africa. It is our responsibility to know our continent
and understand her people. Our calling is to strive to maintain a
liberated, united and prosperous Africa. In my quest to achieve these
objectives I have had the privilege of learning about a people, a land
and a forgotten story of our very own continent.
Everyday life happens, we go about our daily routine, and then as if
from nowhere a story finds you, you don’t see it, you don’t expect it,
but it’s there and it reshapes your perspective. A paradigm shift takes
place and your view point is changed forever.
Six
months ago I had no idea that a nation known as the Saharawi, and a
country called the Western Sahara even existed, no less than on our own
continent, Africa. I had no idea that there were human atrocities
happening in North West Africa that in South Africa we know nothing of,
it is not spoken of, and knowledge of this is very difficult to acquire.
The Western Sahara; commonly referred to as the last frontier of
Africa, has been under the illegal occupation of Morocco, in accordance
to international law. In 1963 the Western Sahara was added to the United
Nations list of non-self governing territories and it was only in 1975
that the Western Sahara saw the departure of their coloniser Spain. The
Spanish left and Madrid ceded control of the territory to Morocco and
Mauritania. With both countries claiming sovereignty over the territory,
this triggered an armed conflict with the Polisario Front, the
liberation movement that the UN considers as the legitimate
representation of the Saharawi people. This conflict marked the
beginning of a refugee crisis that has become an ongoing and forgotten
conflict. Africa can never, ever be free until those across our
continent have their basic human rights, self determination and an
opportunity to live freely!
Four decades have passed since the Saharawi refugee crisis began;
today these people are still living in exile, while their families are
back home, in the occupied territory, those that stayed behind are
subjected to inhumane conditions. 40 years on, how do a people keep hope
alive? This is a subject that is tabled and included on the agenda of
the UN Security Council each year, this is as a result of the groundwork
done by the African Union; yet generations later children are being
born in a refugee camp, with no idea as to the world outside of the
camps.
The
desert sand is the Sarahawi children’s playground; nothing grows here,
not a shrub, not a blade of grass and not a tree to be found, there is
no vegetation of any kind.
In 1975 the Saharawi were forced to flee their land and found refuge
in south-west Algeria, with the expectation that one day they would
return to their home. Traditionally a nomadic people, they have been
forced to settle in an arid desert environment with no opportunity to be
self-sufficient or productive. A camp set up in the midst of the
desert, exposed to extreme heat that reaches 55’celcius, harsh
sandstorms, constant drought and infrequent but hostile torrential
rains.
These are a people that have been denied their home, their
independence and their human rights! I know all of this now, because I
had the opportunity to visit, learn and engage with these forgotten
people. I was invited by the Saharawi Women Organization to join them at
a refugee camp just outside Tindouf in Algeria, in a camp called Smara.
There was much debate and discussion before my decision was made to
embark on this journey. A journey, that would take me to a far corner of
the African continent and would see me live with refugees, in refugee
conditions. For seven days I committed to living with the exiled
Saharawi, an urban being in the desert, with no running water, no
electricity, no arable land, no food, no basics; I would get to come
home after my time in the camp, but the families there would not go
home, and they would not have something different tomorrow, they live
day to day. They survive only on the basket of dried goods that is
air-dropped every month by the World Food Programme (WFP). These people
do not get to go home: this is the only home that they now know…
When this story found me, I was faced by many questions, where was
this, what were the logistics involved, what were the security
challenges, what were the health risks, the ultimate question, “Could
people on our continent be living without the right of self governance,
and self determination?” I was challenged to step from the known into
the unknown, so as to see, hear and know what truth lay behind this
story. I was compelled to seek information and to create an awareness of
the human rights issue of the Saharawi People.
I stand in solidarity with a people who have fought for 40 years to
be independent and have the right to self determination and
decolonisation. I now ask the question, “Are the Saharawi a forgotten
people of the world, or is it just easier to turn a blind eye to an
illegal occupation?” The total population of the Saharawi is
approximately one million people. The Western Sahara is a land rich in
mineral resources, oil, gold, the world’s largest deposits of phosphates
and a rich fishing coastline to name but a few of the natural
resources, these resources should be the right of the Saharawi people,
this should be what they could have built their economy on, and yet they
cannot go home and they live a meagre existence in a refugee camp.
It was 23h30, I had been travelling for 18 hours; the last flight had
been by military plane into an army base two hours away from the
refugee camps. No business class, no luggage conveyor, a cold, war like
structure. A seasoned traveller, this was somewhat different; used to
gliding through snow white clouds and blue skies. The military aircraft
ploughed through the sky, with much noise and movement, there was a
feeling of displacement in the air, my journey was happening. On arrival
at the camps the darkness was intriguing. It was as if a thick blanket
concealed the story I would uncover in the days ahead. My eyes began to
adjust I could see these little tents peering through, dwellings
scattered across a vastness of nothing, this was the desert. No markings
or indication as to where we were, or where we were going.
Some of the tents and small structures had a gentle shine which I was
told was the only light source which was emitted from a solar powered
battery, candle light or a rechargeable lamp. The shadow of light
carried an ambiance of hope and comfort. Bumedian, my new friend and
expert desert driver, explained to me, “It is easier to drive at night
as your bearings lie in the stars and constellations.” I was mesmerised
by the light of the moon and the soft glow that fell across the camp
that allowed me a glimpse of what I would see when day arrived.
The warm embrace of Shabba and Miriam, two sisters from the family
that I stayed with, was overwhelming and emotional. Language was a huge
barrier, as no English is spoken by the majority of Saharawi people, who
all speak a dialect of Arabic, and a small group also speak French. We
made our way into the family tent, where we were asked to leave our
shoes outside. Mutha, an English student and the protocol officer,
stayed with me.
As day broke, the tender sound of the Muazzin was heard across the
camp, and the women of the family I stayed with started their first
prayers for the day. Breakfast was a humble helping of dry bread, jam
and milk coffee, there is no running water, long life milk is all that
is available, and it is considered a luxury for those that do have it. I
quickly learnt that water is very scarce and used for washing before
prayers and refreshing rinses at the hottest times of the day. The basic
routine of bathing in the morning, washing your teeth and other ‘daily
rituals’ were somewhat of a luxury. This family had no toiletry bag
filled with the items we take for granted, toothpaste and toothbrushes
were not available.
I stepped out of the family tent, and was struck by the bright light
and the vast naked desert. As far as my eye could see, in every
direction, tiny dwellings and tents covered the landscape. I paused to
get my bearings, as reality and shock started to become reality. Slowly
the gentle laughter of children filled the crisp morning air and started
to permeate the harsh reality that I could see around me. These
children do not know anything other than this camp; they are playful,
happy and content. The desert sand is their playground; nothing grows
here, not a shrub, not a blade of grass and not a tree to be found,
there is no vegetation of any kind. I quickly realised that there is no
oasis in this desert. A ‘lilo’ like plastic is placed alongside each
tent, which is filled with rationed water for each family; the water
truck comes every few weeks. My family were insistent that I use as much
water as I needed, but I humbly acknowledged that I would get to go
home and I would leave these beautiful people here in the Sahara, still
with no running water or electricity.
As I lay my head on the floor that night, I closed my eyes and I knew
that tomorrow would never be the same, I would never be the same; I was
a different person… I thought that poverty was what we had to fight,
but this surpassed poverty, here there was nothing. I knew that I could
not mistake the soft light, the amazing heavens, the smiles the children
shared, their willingness to share love with me, did not mean that all
was well. These are people that, 40 years on, still have a packed bag in
their tent, so that when they are called, they will be ready to go
home.
I ask that people support my call; support their call, to bring about
international action, in order to bring about the change that the
Saharawi people have been waiting for; they must be given their rights
as a people.
A refugee camp is a place of loneliness and nothingness, yet one
could easily be mistaken that the bright and colourful material worn by
the women of the Western Sahara is what brings light and colour to this
bare landscape. However, you would be sorely mistaken as the light in
the camp comes from the power of the human spirit within these people.
These people are proof that even under such harsh conditions, despite a
lack of human rights and a call for action for them to return home, I
could feel that #HopeLivesHere.
We need to stand against the existence of such; we need to demand the
right of self determination, self governance and human rights for all
people. It saddens my very fibre that people must wait for a monthly
food basket composed of nine dry commodities; that never change, there
is no variation, it always remains the same, and it is all that there
is.
There is a will power, a strength of mind and a community built by
the determination and strength of women who play the most crucial role
in pushing this movement forward! The human spirit LIVES, it lives in
these camps, in those tents and in the heart of all who pass through
that place!
* Catherine Constantinides is a Lead SA Executive,
Director of Miss Earth South Africa, International Climate Activist and
Humanitarian. Constantinides is an Archbishop Tutu African Oxford Fellow
and serves as a Social Cohesion Advocate for the Department of Arts and
Culture. Follw her on Twitter @ChangeAgentSA
London, Morocco has coerced,
bribed, co-opted the international community to prevent scrutiny on its
treatment of people in Western Sahara, Ms Kerry Kennedy said in an article posted Thursday in The Guardian.
