I told him in English: how are you Fabian? He withdrew slightly. He redresses the little arch his shoulders were drawing. In his eyes, shines surprise, doubt and astonishment. I realise he does not remember me. Indeed, for him, I am no different from the hundreds daily users of the station «Casa Voyageurs» to whom he calls for help every day...

I remind him of our first meeting in Casablanca. Then he had tried to communicate in French. But I had replied in English as I understood he was a candidate for illegal immigration. Once his memory refreshed, he smiled but withdrew quickly: «I don’t remember you ». I reminded him of what we discussed then. Things such as: how is it that you try clandestine immigration when you come from Nigeria, that country is loaded with oil wealth? «Ah! There you are, you are the journalist» he burst.

«Fabian, the Nigerian» is one of many dozens of young men and women who enter illegally Morocco from Sub-Saharan Africa. They are everywhere in Moroccan cities, in front of the mosques, in the stations, at the bus stops, the large crossovers, the big public and popular markets/

These young men and women are very polite. With endlessly soft voices, they call for help and support. Often they use the very Moroccan phrases tainted with religious culture. The very same ones used by Moroccan beggars. The one difference is perhaps that Moroccan beggars are often more violent in their talk, looks and behaviour. The illegal immigrants are often accompanies by women. They carry children on their back. These children are born on the long road that leads perhaps to the European Eldorado.

I ask them about their religion. Most are Catholic. So I ask them why you use Muslim phrases to ask for help. They just smile in reply. But «Amma, from Guinea» replies vividly: «God does not care for our language, but much more for our hearts. ». So I question her on the meaning of her first name: she explains that ‘Amma” simply means Water. I told her that was close to Arabic where «almaa» literally means water. «No! » she bursts, «This is closer to Amazigh. An Amazigh Moroccan woman in Essaouira explained to me that Amazighs call water ‘Amman’; we, we just got rid of the final ‘n’ » she said.

I met Amma at the Jamia market, a famous and popular fruit, vegetable and fish market. She is in her thirties Thin, Her eyes with a tint of yellow. Perhaps, for lack of sleep. She says she had to stop studying in high school. He walked from Guinea to Morocco, through Senegal and Gambia. Several times, Amma found herself closed to Ceuta, in failed attempts to cross to what she calls «over there». She decided to return to Casablanca.

Why exactly Casa? «Because it is a large city. Where anonymity helps me pass unnoticed. She adds: «in smaller cities, you feel stigmatised as a migrant; in large ones, and in Casablanca, nobody notice you exist ».

And to be a foreign woman, has it been the source of moral or physical violence? She says that she is relatively better treated than Moroccan girls: «The harassment of Moroccan women is more important than that I have suffered from», she ensures. «This perhaps could be explained also because of my verbal violence and my sharp self-defence skills. This protects me and most men do not dare harass me». She adds that the biggest harassment she suffered from came from her fellow companions on the road.

I ask her if she prostitutes herself to make a living and earn money. She does not hide her anger. She says prostitutes live in much better conditions than she does. However, she escribes a large network of sub-Saharan prostitutes; it supposedly operates very professionally, and enjoys both a strong demand and protection at high level.

Where do sub-Saharan migrants spend the night? Fabian said that at some point, he used to sleep at the Cimetière des Martyrs in Casablanca; indeed, this is the safest place as it houses the graves of well off families. In summer, he sleeps under some thick trees. In winter, he shares a house with other migrants in the shantytown of Toumara in the south of Rabat. It seems he spends the autumn and winter in Casablanca; and then spring and summer in Rabat. Already four years ago, he lost all hope to cross to Europe through the cities of Ceuta and Melilla under Spanish control.

A to Amma, she lives with three other sub-Saharan migrants in a room of the Bouchentouf area in Darb Soultan in Casablanca. She claims they became fully integrated in the district’s social life. She recalls the time of happiness during al Aïd she shared with their neighbours. She admits that even the ‘aggressive youths’ came and help them. Contrary to Fabian, Amma thinks there is harmony and synergy between inhabitants of this popular neighbourhood. Indeed, they are more aggressive but still help one another anyhow.

Did they request any papers, whether residency permits or asylum certificates as a new law to that effect two years ago was promulgated? Both submitted dossiers. Both were called in and listened to. An administrative investigation has been opened to deal with their case. But Fabian says the priority is given to those who work in regular formal productive sectors, and that is not his case.

Fabian had worked in a building company. But he gave up this tiring and a badly paid job. He has rather squat in the street and beg a livelihood near the bus stations. He claims that brings him twice the amount his former boss was offering to him.

So, what is their future as migrants? Amma says she has become a de facto Moroccan woman. She says her dream to cross to Europe begins to fade away. To the contrary, Fabian claims his stay in Morocco is short lived and that he still expects to cross the sea to Europe?

And what of their country? On that point, they share a common position with all candidates to clandestine immigration: the return home is never an option. Amma says: «Yes, I miss my family. I call them every two month. But there is no way I will return».

Are they harassed by Moroccan police? Here both agree: «we are dealt the same way as the Moroccan nationals. ». They are in other words happy to be dealt as their fellow Moroccan poor.