My family always taught me to respect the sea. We spent nearly every weekend by the water, whether it was fishing or boating or swimming together. They regularly reminded my brothers and I that, while it seems peaceful, it is unforgiving and we don’t truly understand the power that it holds. I’ve always kept the strength of the sea in mind, but it wasn’t until this semester that I ever considered the magnitude of its power, nor the power of the sand.
This semester, I’ve been studying the migration crisis in the Euro-Mediterranean space. Since I arrived, I’ve been studying the Tunisian democratic transition process and the factors behind outward migration. A week ago, I arrived in Italy to study the realities of the system from this side of the sea. I have been attending lectures, visiting migrant welcome centers, meeting local NGOs, and visiting legal clinics. In one of these lectures, a founder of a local NGO spoke about the common migration routes from Sub-Saharan Africa to Southern Europe. We followed the process from beginning to end and spoke about the threats at each step. We were all familiar with the perils of crossing the sea, but not many of us were familiar with the dangers of the sand. He mentioned that almost four times as many people die crossing the Sahara than crossing the sea. These numbers aren’t publicized, because they are unknown. There are no existing NGOs that monitor the Sahara for migrants because of the inherent dangers, both political and natural, in the area. We can only speculate the numbers based on migrant accounts. In a separate conversation I had with my professor, Mounir Khelifa, he warned me “not to underestimate the power of that sand,” while motioning to the Sahara.
In Sicily, the strength of the sea cannot be forgotten. The rocks that act as a barrier from the water are hidden by graffiti from artists reminding the public of the thousands of migrants who have lost their lives in pursuit of a better future. The desert and the sea have the power to take life and the power to provide opportunity. Their decisions are ruthless and dispassionate. My conception of the power behind the sea and the sand has shifted. Not only do they hold a such a raw, primitive power, but they also hold a deeper power. They represent an obstacle on the path to a better future. When I watch the sea or walk through the desert, it’s impossible not to think of both their beauty and their puissance.
