A hundred Ceutíes block this afternoon the street that leads to the Trampolín beach, where the shacks newly built by migrants pile up. The goal of the sit-in is to prevent the passage of the truck and the three Red Cross vans that transport the food received by the newcomers at dusk.
“The Red Cross is a mafia! The Red Cross is a mafia!”, chant the protesters in unison, watched by dozens of national police officers, local agents, and military personnel armed with long weapons. “Proud of our police! Proud of our police!”.
Just a minute later, that same police force has the tough job of dissolving the sit-in without resorting to force. A gray-bearded commander approaches the front row and, with quasi-paternal manners, encourages them to move back about fifty steps.
There is division among those present. Some want to resist at all costs. Others are swayed by their faith in authority. And finally, they agree to step back slightly. “Spaniards are always the biggest idiots,” says one of the oldest.
–This could get messy-, one of the agents mutters to his boss.
–It’s going to get messy-, he corrects with a serious look.
The commander approaches the protesters and tries to negotiate a middle ground. If they let the Red Cross pass, he offers, the police will allow the protesters isolated by a police cordon to join them.
Read more The worst August for Ceuta’s merchants: «I had to take out an iron bar to protect my store»
There is division among the protesters, a small group called together via social networks, with no apparent leader or other agenda than making life difficult for the migrants. The ensuing discussion, more typical of Life of Brian than the greatest migration crisis remembered, further heats tempers and challenges the police’s negotiation skills. “We will not move from this road!”, the protesters chant meanwhile, awaiting a final decision.
The autonomous city these days seems like a mountain of weeds in the middle of a heat wave. The fatigue of almost a month of migration crisis has been fraying the nerves of the patient ‘caballas’, as the Ceutíes call themselves. And the security forces redouble their efforts so that an unexpected spark, like the daily distribution by the Red Cross, does not end up setting everything on fire.
The points of friction are multiple and not always obvious. There are locals against newcomers, of course. But also Christians against Muslims, who are criticized for barely participating in the evening protests against the “occupation.” Or those who want to help the newcomers against those who want to make their lives as impossible as they can with a single goal: that they leave as soon as possible.
“I would never deny anyone a piece of bread, but they are taking everything from us“, says Ana, a 36-year-old Ceutí, semi-aware of her own contradiction. “We are afraid in our own streets, the children are locked up… The only solution is to push so they leave”.
