A strange love-hate relationship links these days the most agitated Ceutans by the migration crisis with the National Police, who strive to maintain order in an increasingly rebellious city.
Many of the caballas, instinctive defenders of the security forces, have reached the same conclusion: the only way to end their nightmare is to harass the newcomers until they decide to leave on their own. If that includes surrounding their settlements, burning their shacks, and boycotting the daily food distribution, they seem more than willing to do so.
On the other hand, they face hundreds of National Police officers, who have been assigned a devilish mission. Yes, they must protect the integrity of the newcomers, but without further inflaming the spirits of a citizenry burned out after almost a month of impossible coexistence. And with whom, according to what the device commanders admit in private, they agree more than they can show in uniform.
This clash of interests leads to Berlanga-like situations. For example, the same protesters who chant «Proud of our Police!» until they lose their voices can, within minutes, be millimeters away from fighting with a group of officers blocking their way with their gaze fixed on the asphalt.
That happened yesterday, at dusk, on the road that connects the city center with Trampolín beach, where hundreds of homeless immigrants gather. After a frustrated attempt to boycott the Red Cross supply work with an improvised sit-in, about fifteen neighbors broke through police controls and set fire to several newly built shacks on the sand, amid the applause of hundreds of citizens.
There were minutes of a strange choreography between police and protesters. The riot police threatened to charge, but it was clearly the last thing they wanted. The neighbors threw backpacks and towels into the makeshift bonfires but constantly looked back, as if asking for the police officers’ approval. “They can make bonfires, so can we,” justified one of the young men in a video shared on social media.
They continued like this, wrapped in a thick grayish smoke, until someone instructed the police to advance a few meters. That small gesture was enough for the vanguard to immediately return to the group’s embrace, which received them as urban heroes. “Invaders, expulsion! The caballas never surrender!,” chanted the crowd, using the proud nickname with which the inhabitants of the Spanish Autonomous City identify themselves.
A couple in their thirties debated the move just after. “Look how the Moors laugh at us, we’re suckers!” said the boy while pointing to the beach. “I understand you, but the last thing we can do is confront the Police: they are the ones who protect us,” his partner replied.
It was the tensest moment of the third day of protests by the Ceutans after four weeks of migration crisis. At least two thousand neighbors, according to police sources, formed columns from different neighborhoods and converged at dusk on Trampolín Beach, the daily scene of one of the events that most agitates them: the free food distribution to the newcomers. “The Red Cross is a mafia!” they shouted during a sit-in that did not prevent aid to the immigrants.
The same dilemma between harassing the “invaders” and following Police orders was repeated minutes later. A firecracker fell from an alley onto the procession as it was already heading from the beach to the Government Delegation, another focus of their anger. About fifty protesters, barely teenagers, did not hesitate: they climbed stairs in pursuit of the culprits, amid the laments of the older ones: “No violence nooooo!”.
The riot police followed them through the alleys and seemed ready, this time yes, to charge against the protesters. False alarm: the split decided to turn back and join the majority without explanation. The officers’ sigh of relief showed their comfort at the fragile peace that was again in effect.
The procession continued toward the city center, now farther from the immigrants and, therefore, in a less inflammable mood. But such a crowd, without clear leadership or any program other than venting, is a nightmare for the security forces. There are no interlocutors to negotiate with in case of any sudden fire: one can only hope that the caballas’ instinct for order is stronger than their desire for revenge.
Already in front of the Government Delegation, among a sea of red-and-yellow flags and chants of “I am Spanish”, a boy kicked a trash can loudly. It was seen and gone: two ladies walking just behind hurried to put it back in place.
Attacks on journalists
A group of protesters in Ceuta heckled and insulted journalists from national television channels during Thursday’s gathering on Benítez beach.
Several people participating in the protest cornered a reporter from La Sexta, whom they spat on, forcing him to be protected by National Police officers, as Europa Press witnessed on the ground.
Once safe behind the police cordon, they continued to heckle and insult him with phrases like “son of a bitch.” They threatened to follow him until he leaves the city.
This is not the first incident the press has suffered in the city since the massive entry. Episodes of verbal violence have increased in the last week.
