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Posted

12 Jun 2020

Originally published

12 Jun 2020

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Overview

• East Africa is currently experiencing a desert locust outbreak of an unprecedented nature. The outbreak, which began in January 2020, is now in its second phase, with FAO projecting that this phase could be 20 times worse than the first one. Already, tens of thousands of hectares of farmland and pasture have been damaged by locusts in Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia, South Sudan and Uganda.
Given that most of these countries are heavily reliant on agricultural production, this outbreak could not only threaten the livelihoods and food security of residents, but the respective countries’ economies as well.

• The triple threat of COVID-19, floods and locusts poses a major threat to food security in East Africa. These shocks do not just have immediate, short-term effects, they exacerbate prevailing food insecurity and undermine livelihoods and development gains that took years to build.

• WFP estimates that 20 million people are food insecure in nine East African countries: Ethiopia, South Sudan,
Kenya, Somalia, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Djibouti and Eritrea. WFP projects that the number of food insecure people in the region could increase to 34 million or more in the coming months due to the impact of COVID-19, locusts and flooding

• The region is now seeing the spread of swarms of desert locusts that may eat crops in many countries before the main harvest from July to September. FAO currently projects that an additional 1.5 to 2.5 million people could become severely food insecure as a result solely of locust outbreaks.

• WFP anticipates a localized impact on the harvest, though at this stage the impact is still uncertain pending on control operations, locust surveillance and other factors such as wind and weather conditions.

• The restrictions imposed by countries in the region to contain COVID-19 are creating logistical challenges to the supply of pesticides, bio-insecticides and delays in obtaining equipment for control operations

WFP Preparedness

• At a regional level, WFP works through the Food Security and Nutrition Working Group to harmonize methodologies and tools for ongoing ground impact assessments, food security projection and reporting on the locust outbreak.

• WFP and FAO have worked together in a number of ways since the beginning of the locust crisis, including by supporting logistical capacity and opportunities for the triangulation of equipment. FAO has launched a regional appeal for the fight against desert locusts in the Greater Horn of Africa and Yemen amounting to US$231 million for the period January to December 2020. This appeal aims at enhancing gains made in surveillance and control efforts, especially, in Ethiopia, Kenya and Somalia, which are the three worst affected countries in the region.

• WFP is assessing the situation closely and preparing more detailed estimates on potential locust-related requirements for our country level responses together with FAO, the World Bank and governments.

• WFP is supporting ongoing food security assessments in the affected countries which are seeking to quantify the impact the locusts are having on food production and availability. While these assessments will further inform response strategies, anticipated needs are already being incorporated within the existing Humanitarian Response Plans (HRPs) in the affected countries. The support to affected communities will include a combination of relief, social protection and livelihood support interventions, in conjunction with the host Governments and FAO

• In East Africa, WFP’s existing funding requirements for the next 6 months are US$813 million. However, as the impacts of COVID-19 deepen and new swarms continue to spread, needs are expected to increase significantly.

Source=https://reliefweb.int/report/ethiopia/wfp-east-africa-update-desert-locust-outbreak-12-june-2020

JUNE 11, 2020 ERITREA HUB NEWS, WORLD BANK

Source: World Bank

This study shows the coincidence of aid and increases in holdings in off-shore tax havens. To put the findings crudely: when aid arrives, the funds in the tax havens increase – indicating that the aid has been diverted for corrupt practices.

This is what the study says – full report here.

In this paper, we study aid diversion by combining quarterly information on aid disbursements from the World Bank (WB) and foreign deposits from the Bank for International Settlements (BIS). The former dataset covers all disbursements made by the World Bank to finance development projects and provide general budget support in its client countries. The latter dataset covers foreign-owned deposits in all significant financial centers, both havens such as Switzerland, Luxembourg, Cayman Islands and Singapore whose legal framework emphasizes secrecy and asset protection and non-havens such as Germany, France and Sweden. Equipped with this dataset, we study whether aid disbursements trigger money flows to foreign bank accounts. In our main sample comprising the 22 most aid-dependent countries in the world (in terms of WB aid), we document that disbursements of aid coincide, in the same quarter, with significant increases in the value of bank deposits in havens. Specifically, in a quarter where a country receives aid equivalent to 1% of GDP, its deposits in havens increase by 3.4% relative to a country receiving no aid; by contrast, there is no increase in deposits held in non-havens. While other interpretations are possible, these findings are suggestive of aid diversion to private accounts in havens.

Letter from Eritrea Focus, Jubilee Campaign USA and The America Team for Displaced Eritreans

President David Malpass

The World Bank Group

1818 H Street NW,

Washington, D.C. 20433

cc: Ethiopis Tafara

Acting Vice President

Integrity Vice Presidency

The World Bank Group

1818 H Street NW,

Washington, D.C. 20433

Dear World Bank President David Malpass and INT Vice President Ethiopis Tafara,

We, the undersigned, are a collection of individuals and organizations who collectively strive to promote religious freedom and human rights around the world. We would first like to express our gratitude to the World Bank for its leadership in continuously providing development assistance and aid to developing nations in order to encourage necessary economic and infrastructural development in such stagnating or slowly developing nations.

Keeping in mind the unending visible benefits and new opportunities that the World Bank’s provision of foreign development aid provides to hundreds of nations around the world, we would like to express our concern regarding the findings related to Eritrea In the February 2020 World Bank Policy Research Working Paper 9150, Elite Capture of Foreign Aid: Evidence from Offshore Bank Accounts. This report examined whether there is a visible and verifiable relationship between World Bank receipt of foreign aid to a certain country and correlating money flows from such countries to foreign banks, which suggests that corrupt elites are capturing the aid and pocketing it for themselves rather than using it for their nation’s development plans. This research found that “in a quarter where a country received aid equivalent to 1% of GDP, its deposits in havens [foreign banks in nations whose laws allow for secrecy regarding personal finances and private assets] increase by 3.4% relative to a country receiving no aid.”

In this policy paper, the World Bank Group determines that “aid disbursements are associated with wealth accumulation in offshore accounts” and that data leaks and tax documentation conclude that such accounts remain at the top of the wealth distribution and therefore that these accounts are owned by elites. Of greater interest, however, is that Eritrea is one of the nations whose statistics represents this corrupt phenomenon: in Eritrea, World Bank aid flows account for 3.2% of the annual GDP, the nation has 8 deposit accounts in foreign bank ‘havens,’ and the nation exhibits a 2.29% quarterly growth rate in deposits to foreign accounts.

We fear that the statistics raised in this policy paper reveal the extent to which corruption is an overwhelming political problem in Eritrea and, similarly, the extent to which the World Bank’s foreign aid directed to Eritrea is not utilized for its intended purposes, thus feeding increasing corruption. It is reprehensible that the funding provided by the World Bank to Eritrea for the purpose of development is simply being stockpiled in overseas banking institutions by wealthy elites and corrupt government officials to fund their personal expenditures and prop-up the oppressive authoritarian regime.

Eritrea is one of, if not the most, repressive nations on the African continent, and is a repetitive perpetrator of human rights violations. The most noteworthy and deplorable of these violations includes arbitrary and prolonged detention with no access to legal counsel and exposure to overcrowded prison conditions; curtailment of freedom of speech and expression, and targeting of independent journalists; harassment and imprisonment of religious minorities, as well state-supported mass closures of churches and houses of worship; and Eritrea’s infamous program of indefinite military and labor conscription forced upon the majority of the nation’s citizens, including men and women, who are forced to work extended hours in lifelong careers that the government chooses for them regardless of their interests or qualifications, where they are paid extremely insufficient wages and often experience substandard working conditions.

In addition to the World Bank’s acknowledgement of the growing corruption in Eritrea, Eritrea is consistently considered highly corrupt by Transparency International, and was ranked the 38^th most corrupt nation in the world as of 2019. Such corruption hinders the advancement of the nation’s citizens, as Eritrea is recognized by numerous human rights organizations to be ‘the North Korea of Africa’ due to its fervent repression of civil, political, and social rights. Moreover, the 2017 Natural Resource Governance Index measures the governance standards of developing countries’ extractive industries. Eritrea ranks dead last over all – 89^th place and its state-owned mining company is ranked as the worst governed state enterprise.

Given the well-documented concerns regarding the mismanagement of state funds by the Government of Eritrea, we collectively and respectively make the following recommendations regarding the World Bank’s future investments in Eritrea:

Decrease with immediate effect foreign aid transfers to Eritrea until Eritrea improves its human rights record and government transparency practices; or
Deliberately consider ceasing the practice of providing large sums of foreign aid to Eritrea;
Require mandatory monitoring and reporting mechanisms to ensure that World Bank foreign aid is being used for its intended purposes of economic and social development

Respectfully signed with great appreciation for your attention to these matters,

Jubilee Campaign USA

Eritrea Focus (UK)

The America Team for Displaced Eritreans

East Africa: Abiy Helps Somaliland Put More Facts On the Ground

Donat Sorokin/TASS Host Photo Agency

Ethiopia's Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed welcomed at Sochi International Airport as he arrives to take part in the 2019 Russia-Africa Summit in Sochi, Russia, October 22, 2019.

5 June 2020

analysis By Peter Fabricius

On 1 June, Somaliland's President Muse Bihi Abdi officially inaugurated the first 12 km of Berbera Corridor, a trade and transport route that connects landlocked Ethiopia to Somaliland's Port of Berbera on the Gulf of Aden.

The Addis Ababa-Berbera highway is being funded by the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and the Abu Dhabi Fund for Development. Together with the US$442 billion expansion of the Port of Berbera by another Emirati company, Dubai's DP World, the highway will turn Berbera into a major regional trading hub.

On one level, Somaliland is merely investing in what is likely to be a lucrative commercial venture, attracting more exports and imports from its much bigger and richer neighbour. But the Berbera highway clearly also has a more strategic purpose - to put an important political fact on the ground.

That is, to make Berbera an integral part of Ethiopia's economic network - and therefore also Somaliland. To the degree that Berbera becomes indispensable for Ethiopia, to that degree is Somaliland recognised - though only implicitly of course - as an independent state.

The Berbera project is important to Ethiopia's strategic imperative of access to the sea

Achieving such recognition has been Somaliland's eternal quest - so far with no apparent success. Neither Ethiopia nor any other country explicitly recognises it as a sovereign nation. All officially still consider it to be a wayward province of Somalia. And there are no signs on the immediate horizon that any country is about to take the plunge and be the first to recognise the independent state of Somaliland.

Yet because of its implicit recognition of Somaliland, the Berbera Port-highway project has annoyed Somalia. Two years ago when Somaliland and DP World ceded 19% of the Berbera Port project to Ethiopia, Somali President Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed Farmaajo, without mentioning names, warned foreign countries and companies not to 'cross the line and put to question the sovereignty of Somalia.'

Ethiopian President Abiy Ahmed Ali's government duly pledged respect for Somalia's sovereignty a few months later. Yet Abiy, who ascended to Ethiopia's prime ministership in April 2018, has shown no signs of abandoning the Berbera project. The corridor is important to Ethiopia's strategic imperative of access to the sea. This is especially because cooling relations with Djibouti since Abiy's rapprochement with Eritrea have placed something of a question mark over Ethiopia's main maritime outlet through that country.

However Abiy, the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize winner, is also exercising diplomatic skill. In February this year he hosted a meeting between Farmaajo and Bihi in Addis Ababa to try to help them patch up their quarrel.

The Berbera highway also has a strategic purpose - to put an important political fact on the ground

The encounter seems to have borne some fruit as the United Nations Secretary-General's Special Representative for Somalia, James Swan, told the Security Council earlier this month that 'in regard to Somalia-"Somaliland" relations, we are encouraged that dialogue is ongoing at senior levels and that both sides have indicated a willingness to maintain communication and pursue further discussions.'

Abiy's intervention as mediator is intriguing. One might think it would be Somalia that would consider Ethiopia a biased referee since Addis Ababa has a material interest in the offending Berbera project. Also Ethiopia is one of only three countries - along with Djibouti and Turkey - to have opened consulates in Hargeisa, Somaliland's main city.

Conversely, though, Abiy would probably not want to see a peaceful Somaliland weakened by Mogadishu. Ethiopia shares a border with Somaliland that is almost as long as that with Somalia, and a strong Somaliland provides a buffer for Ethiopia against al-Shabaab. So Abiy is walking a delicate tightrope on this issue, it seems.

There is also a wider dimension to the Somali-Somaliland standoff. Middle East powers are pursuing proxy rivalries in the Horn, with the UAE backing Somaliland in part to counter Turkey and Qatar's courtship of Somalia.

Somaliland will likely have to settle for de facto, not de jure, independence for a long while

What the secretive Somali-Somaliland negotiations to which Swan referred might produce is hard to envision. With Somaliland demanding complete independence and Somalia demanding complete unification, the theoretical compromise would be incorporation with a high degree of autonomy within what is already a federal Somali state. But it's difficult to see Somaliland agreeing to that, and certainly not while Somalia remains locked in its bloody, existential struggle with al-Shabaab and protracted conflicts with federal states.

Ironically in his report, Swan urged that the commitment to dialogue and cooperation exhibited by Somalia and Somaliland should be extended to relations between the Somali federal government in Mogadishu and the federal member states. That was a reminder that some of these states are just about as 'independent' in practice as Somaliland. Swan noted with regret that 'it has been more than a year since the President and all Federal Member State leaders have met.'

So one might think Farmaajo would want to get his own house in order before considering adding another fractious member to the family. On the other hand, despite putting more solid facts on the ground, Somaliland looks as though it will have to settle for de facto, not de jure, independence - at least for a long while.

Peter Fabricius, ISS Consultant

Read the original article on ISS.

Source=https://allafrica.com/stories/202006070025.html

June 7, 2020 Eritrea Hub Ethiopia, News

Refugee committees in both camps had already disagreed with the relocation as there is not enough land available to build new shelters there. This was later confirmed by staff members of another organisation whose mandate includes construction of shelters. Refugees do not know the reason behind the decision to close the camp and were only told that this is due to “‘budget constraint”, although refugees told me UNHCR communicated to them verbally (and not in writing) that their budget for 2020 was secure.

Source: Ethiopia Insight

June 7, 2020

by Natalia Paszkiewicz

A week after the Brexit referendum in the United Kingdom in June 2016, I was aboard a plane to Addis Ababa with a sense of bitterness towards the country in which I had been living in as a European citizen for 13 years, and with excitement and anticipation of moving to Ethiopia for work for an international NGO.

My fascination with Ethiopia long before visiting dated to my teenage immersion in reggae culture, and later flourished thanks to my friendships with Ethiopians in diaspora. More importantly, I was on my way to an Eritrean refugee camp in northern Ethiopia, in the Tigray region, located only some 100-kilometres away from the Eritrean capital, Asmara. My decision to pack up and go was a result of my exposure to the tragic stories of Eritrean exiles in Europe; I wanted to understand this more by tracing it back to the very beginnings of the treacherous journeys taken by Eritrean migrants: the Ethiopian-Eritrean borderlands.

The one-hour drive from Shire, the nearest town where all international NGOs are stationed, to Hitsats refugee camp cuts through harsh and yet stunning highland scenery. The zigzag road requires a skilful and an alert driver, able to quickly react to livestock who seem to reign; the road is covered in animal carcasses, usually dogs as their deaths do not lead to compensation claims. After some 45 minutes, the tarmac road turns into a dusty but wide path, leading to a camp for Eritrean refugees—Hitsats. Cows, sheep, and goats lazily wander around, sometimes mischievous enough to enter the shelters to grab a bite of injera or pee in a laundry bucket. An old, blind, and terribly skinny camel used to storm into the camp to munch on the leaves of scarce moringa trees. Refugees chased the camel away: after all, this was a very hard life for everyone.

The first two people I was introduced to when I jumped out of our 4×4 vehicle were young musicians from a band called Selam, which means peace in both Tigrinya and Amharic; they later became good friends, even though I did not know Tigrinya, and they did not speak much English. The strong artistic identity of the camp made it easier for me to befriend people regardless of the language barrier between us. Loud music with a distinctive, repetitive heartbeat was everywhere, and young refugees would kill time playing kirar, a type of lyra, in the shade of communal buildings constructed by various humanitarian organisations working in the camp. A shoulder-to-shoulder greeting was a form of non-verbal communication that helped me to overcome the linguistic divisions: I was overdoing it to the point of getting bruises, which caused lots of giggles among the young men, who were all significantly smaller than me.

It may seem somewhat bizarre to say it about a refugee camp, but I had a great time there. When my contract finished, I promised everyone, on the verge of tears, that I would return to Hitsats. They did not really expect that I would keep my word, and I did not really know myself how I would actually be back given complex bureaucracy of Ethiopian work visas and camp permits. But I did come back, twice, in 2018 and 2019. These were two nearly month-long fieldwork trips as part of my postdoctoral research on improving shelters in refugee camps.

Since I left Ethiopia in 2017 and returned to the UK, I have been receiving Facebook friend requests from people in Hitsats almost every day. Those Eritreans who did not speak English would still send me short messages, some men forwarding me their probably carefully chosen cutest selfies hoping that I would marry them and bring them to Europe. The sister of the musician that I met on my first day in Hitsats called me after the whole family was resettled in the U.S. just to say hello and to make chicken sounds, as this was our memory from the camp (some cheeky chickens nearly jumped on our laps when we were having coffee). I was eager to stay in touch with the refugees also because I knew that many of them were planning to reach Europe, and I was always worried that one of my friends might die on the way.

Tragically, I learnt last August that a young man I met in the camp died in a detention centre in Libya. His last words on Facebook Messenger were, “I hope one day I will see you. At any time write to me Natalia sis. Bless you and pray for me every day”. For some reason, I could not bring myself to unfriend him on Facebook; somehow, it would feel like a betrayal. So, I am still a Facebook friend of a dead man. I know I’m not the only one: most, if not all young Eritreans have lost a friend who didn’t make it to Europe; and most, if not all, have their Facebook walls full of dead friends’ photos with photoshopped ‘RIP’ lines surrounded by images of burning candles. I hate to see them pop out regularly on my timeline, this social media epitaph for a lost Eritrean generation, and a cruel reminder of many human tragedies behind seemingly dry and detached European asylum policies that conveniently speak of some abstract refugee numbers, not actual people.

My most recent visit to Hitsats, a year ago, felt a bit different. Most of my closest friends had left the camp, some to study in Tigray, others to continue their musical careers in Ethiopian capital, Addis Ababa. A few people have been resettled in the U.S., and several have made it to Europe, including the U.K. where we had an emotional reunion. On the other hand, there were new refugees arriving every day at Hitsats following the peace agreement between Eritrea and Ethiopia in July 2018 and subsequent brief opening of borders between the two countries. Before the peace deal, the camp housed a steady number of around 10,000 residents (steady because, with an approximate number of 1,000 newcomers every month, there was an equal number of refugees leaving the camp and embarking on dangerous journeys towards Europe), but was now at nearly triple that figure.

After the exodus following open borders, there were simply no shelters left to accommodate the newly arrived refugees. Every day there was a group of roughly 100 newcomers waiting outside office of the Ethiopian government agency in charge of refugees, the Administration for Refugee and Returnee Affairs (ARRA), to receive their shelter allocation. Those who had some money were heading to Shire and other towns. They all seemed relaxed, most of them chatting with friends and relatives who were already living in the camp. Everyone just seemed to be happy to have left Eritrea, attesting to the fact that there was no improvement inside the country following the peace deal between the Eritrean dictator Isaias Afeworki and the new Ethiopian Prime Minister, Abiy Ahmed.

On the minibus from Hitsats back to Shire, I used to have many heated political debates with Tigrayans who worked in the aid sector. Most were very hostile towards Abiy Ahmed, seeing him as a CIA agent. Growing up in Poland under communism, I was actually well accustomed to such conspiracy theories. Sometimes I would just nod and roll my eyes; I knew my colleagues’ political views. When one day on my laptop I played an album by Korchach, an Eritrean singer now living in exile, a brother of our bus driver pointed out, ‘Oh, you have Tigrinya music, good!’. I completely snapped and replied angrily, ‘This is Eritrean music!’. That was the moment when I realised that I have somehow become an Eritrean nationalist; all my Eritrean friends found this story extremely amusing, my own baptism into the Eritrean national project. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the passion of those late afternoon political discussions on the bus; one hour was also just the right timing for us all to end them amicably upon our return to Shire.

My most recent visit to Ethiopia was last December, but as I could not enter the camp on a tourist visa, I only stayed in Addis Ababa, where I met some of my friends who had left Hitsats. I first heard the rumours of Hitsats camp closure this January, but I disregarded them knowing how quickly refugees’ fears, which, unsurprisingly, always haunt them, are turned into facts. Moreover, last September, I received a message from a senior ARRA employee asking for some support with regards to construction of new transitional shelters, as the flow of refugees kept continuing and the agency was overburdened. This clearly implied an expansion of the camp, I thought, rather than its closure. Sadly, this time I was wrong: there was indeed a plan to close Hitsats and to relocate refugees to two older and already overcrowded camps, namely Adi Harush and Mai Ayni.

Three months ago, I got a WhatsApp call from an Eritrean friend based in Addis Ababa who told me that his underage sister living in Hitsats was very worried about the camp’s future. Another ARRA member of staff whom I befriended when working in the camp avoided answering my questions about closure, swiftly changing the topic every time I tried to discuss it in our online communications. I was not particularly surprised knowing how politically sensitive the issue of Eritrean refugees is in Ethiopia, but I just felt frustrated that I could not be there on the ground, and that COVID-19 meant that it would be unlikely to be there anytime soon. Most probably, I thought, I would get all the answers over the traditional three cups of freshly brewed coffee, sitting on a plastic chair next to an always wobbly table in one of the many charming little cafes in Shire. But I would not get any information from government workers on the phone, and certainly not in writing.

I went through the list of my Facebook contacts, and it seemed that everyone who was fluent in English had already left Hitsats. However, some people used to try their luck in Addis, and if they could not find a job there, they would return to the camp. I messaged one friend and asked if he was still in the Ethiopian capital; he replied that he was back in Hitsats. He had a deep sense of responsibility towards the community and he was happy to update me regularly on the developments, following refugees’ objection to the planned camp closure.

Since the last week of March, he has been calling me on WhatsApp almost every day, depending on the strength of the signal. Due to its remote location in the rural part of Tigray, the network coverage is extremely poor in Hitsats and requires climbing surrounding hills to be able to even make a local phone call, let alone use Internet. We often joke about donkeys interfering with the network, moving them out of the way, or jumping on their back waving a handset when calls keep dropping; patience is certainly one of the virtues a refugee must acquire, simply in order not to go crazy. We also coined our own spiteful advertising slogan for Ethio Telecom, the only telecommunications provider in Ethiopia: ‘Ethio Telecom: Always Here to Surprise You.”

Due to problems with internet in the camp, I received copies of the correspondence that refugee committee had with aid agencies with a delay. As of today, it was only the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) that on 30 March replied to a letter sent by refugees on the 10 of March. The organisation wrote that they had not received official written notification about the planned camp closure, and were not, and I quote, ‘in principle against the closure, if it means that the refugees will have access to alternative and sustainable means of protection and livelihoods’.

UNHCR stressed that the refugees in Hitsats, Adi Harush, and Mai Ayni should be consulted, enough time should be given for the proposed relocation, and this should not be done during the COVID-19 emergency. But refugee committees in both camps had already disagreed with the relocation as there is not enough land available to build new shelters there. This was later confirmed by staff members of another organisation whose mandate includes construction of shelters. Refugees do not know the reason behind the decision to close the camp and were only told that this is due to “‘budget constraint”, although refugees told me UNHCR communicated to them verbally (and not in writing) that their budget for 2020 was secure. Any assets and livestock owned by refugees are required to remain in Hitsats after refugees’ relocation, which only increased Eritreans’ suspicion with regards to financial benefit that the process could bring to their hosts.

Hitsats is not fenced and merges into an Ethiopian town of the same name. It is in general poorly monitored and regulated, unless visitors are foreigners whose camp entry permits are tightly controlled (accessing the camp is equally difficult for Eritreans from the diaspora trying to help their compatriots). Due to the age restriction on the military service conscription in Eritrea, officially from the age of 18 to 40 with an extension to the age of 50 (as reserve army), older people tend to stay in Eritrea, as they no longer need to serve. As a result, Eritrean refugee populations lack the presence of elders, which is often seen as a reason behind the unruly behaviour of the troubled youth and a general sense of social anomie.

It is unclear on what scale violent crime actually occurs in the camp as there were conflicting accounts coming from refugees last year, but, overall, the majority of residents did experience breaking into their shelter in the night and having their property stolen on multiple occasions. These were usually smart phones and cash needed to facilitate the irregular crossing into Europe. Refugees suspect that some agencies may wish to incite violence in the camp in order to have a pretext to close it down.

Overall, there is much confusion, resulting in a growing sense of fatigue and anxiety among refugees. Refugees keep telling me that they want to be resettled to a third country, now even more than ever. Pictures of Eritreans who lost their lives trying to reach the shores of fortress Europe still flood my Facebook timeline, and declarations of love from desperate young men stuck in a country where they can’t envisage their future keep appearing on my Messenger.