Vidas menores (2020) - full transcript

When you have not crossed yet
and have not seen this country

you only think
that you will get to cross,

that you will find a job
and earn money…

Stuff like that.

But once you arrive,
you meet people

that came much sooner,
at 16 or 18,

who are still homeless
without a job or legal status.

But, in spite of that, you only think
you will realize that dream.

Brother Ismail, I'm Rbati.

- Rbati, how are you brother?
- I'm fine. How are you?

What a joy to hear you!



- Where are you now? Where?
- I'm still in Bilbao.

-Okay brother.
Better than here in Ceuta.

But I'm still roaming the streets,
brother Ismail.

Have you heard
about what happened here?

Yes, who is the boy who died?

A boy whose name was Ilias,
he sneaked under a truck and got killed.

- He was from Martil, right?
- Yes, he was from Martil.

Those days
I also was in the port,

I saw there were no possibilities
and went to the Center for minors.

Wish me luck so that
I receive paperwork in the Center.

I have three months left there…

I have no doubt, brother.

God help you Ismail,
I tell you from the heart.

God willing, we will meet again.



As I told you,
mountains never meet,

friends do.

-Do you have a passport?
Do you have legal papers?

He is Algerian.

The three of you?

No, just him.

- You are a minor, right?
- Yes, I am a minor.

-And why do you sleep here?
Why don't you sleep in the Center?

- I don't want the Center.
- Is it better on the street?

The Center has bad workers.

-Bad workers?
But it's worse on the street, isn't it?

In the street
I can go to the Peninsula

to look for a living,
unlike here.

The police came and accused us
of mugging these boys.

Their passports and money
were stolen from them

and they wanted to blame us.

Now I'm going…

I'm going to sleep.

Every day I sleep
in a different place.

Sometimes on a cardboard
in any corner of the street,

sometimes next to a bin.

Today I'm going to sleep
in the car park of the port.

There are cars and vans
broken and abandoned.

There is a big van there,
we call it 'the hotel'…

'The port hotel;'
Us boys sleep inside.

I will see who is inside now.

If there are no boys,
I will sleep there.

If there are many,
I will look for another place.

I will sleep one or two hours
and then I will do risky again.

This is the 'Seven star hotel'
of the port.

There are two boys sleeping.

This van is good for starting
a sandwich bar at the beach.

If it was in Morocco,

it would have been taken
to sell sandwiches.

How long have you been here?

A month and a half now.

- And you, how long?
- A month.

And me, I've been here for 4 years,
what can I say...

You are dangerous.

Do you have money to fix it
and we'll leave?

If I had 5,000 dirhams,
I would buy a spot in a boat.

- In a boat from Morocco?
- How much does it cost from Ceuta?

2,000 euros, I think.

No, I think it's more expensive.

- It's 20,000 dirhams.
- Ah, okay!

That is death, for sure.

It's safe, in 10 minutes
you are in Algeciras.

If you take it in Morocco,
you depend on luck.

How much does it cost
from Morocco?

From my neighborhood
it's 6,500 euros.

Yes, that's the price.

Some make it to Madrid
and others are deported.

Let's see if God
helps us achieve it.

Do we continue or what?

Let's see if at least
we see our parents again.

Should we go?

Let's go.

I'm sick of the problems
of the port.

The police, the people…

You're stopped
and blamed for thefts,

you're hit,

you try to cross and you can't.

In Ceuta we have only problems,

we come here just to do risky.

There are only problems in Ceuta.

But well, what can we do.
Thank God for living.

It's better to live like that
than to live in our country.

We also have to think
about our parents.

It's better this way,

so our parents don't see
what we do.

We don't want to make them cry

when we are put behind bars.

This way
we don't make them suffer.

Leaving was for the best.

It is better to live
far from family.

If you stay in your country,
you will end up in prison

and your parents are poor,

they won't be able
to bail you out.

We have no studies,
no job…

That's why we came here,
to try to make a living.

But you realise that nobody
understands or feels like you

even if you are a minor.

I burned myself.

Why did I do it?

To protest against
injustice and abuse.

You see there's nothing,
the police hit you,

there's no future.

Death is better.

We wanted a better life
and look how we are.

This is not life, brother.

But when we reach the Peninsula,

our dreams will come true,
God willing.

I would like to cross to Europe
and keep studying

or specialize in some job

and then come back
with my mother, inshallah,

and make her life happy
and build her a house,

even gift her a trip to Mecca.

We have come to this city
to cross to the other side.

You have to understand us.

We have come to this city
to go there

and build a future.

If we wanted the wrong path,
we would have stayed there.

We want paperwork.

We want rights.

Do you know why you can see

all these boys by the port?

Because we have no place,

no love, nothing.

We are minors and poor.

We are brave poverty,
just so you know.

We are little men,
poor but strong ones.

You know, there's a possibility

that I could go spend
the holidays in Morocco.

These days I got some money

but I don't know
what I'm going to do.

My mother tells me to go there
but I don't want to.

I will go to spend the holidays
God willing,

and then I will come back

and do risky
with renewed strength.

Bilbao is very good!

Spain serves us as an anchor
to get paperwork.

I have to stop in Spain

to get documentation though,

actually,
I want to go to Canada.

God willing, to Norway…
to the world.

There's where I'll go,
God willing:

Canada, Norway, Sweden,

Belgium, France…

For me, Spain is a crossing point,

like a motorway.

All countries:
Spain, Italy France…

From the biggest to the smallest,
you know?

All countries are better
than Morocco.

Morocco is not good.

There's a lot of poor in Morocco,

many people who steal,
a lot of violence.

The King… danger.

When you hear
some boy has died, run over

you think that he can be your son,

same as it happened to another boy,
it can happen to yours.

Nobody walks in your shoes.

Nobody knocked on my door
to ask me if I needed anything,

if I was sick, if I needed help.

Nobody is worried about my daughters
when I go to work and they stay alone.

My only concern is Ismail.

I just wish he is fine
before I die.

I just want that Europeans

from Spain, France,
any country…

How do their children live?

That they feel sorry
for ours as well.

That they see in them
something good.

When they see a child sleeping
on cardboards in the port,

all they see is a boy
who sniffs glue.

But he is also a victim

and his parents are
very sorry for him.

We were on the beach and thereby
for a long time,

we were hungry

so we came here

to get something to eat.

But we haven't got anything yet

though we have been here
for two hours.

Let's see if we are lucky and

somebody gives us something to eat.

Bad luck.

I heard the boys scream.

The boys who were drugged
were fighting each other.

Drugs toy with them.

I don't know why they fighted

but surely because of nonsense.

In the street one cannot dream.

The street can hurt you,

the street harms you…

The street can do
many things in you.

The street is hard.

Many things may happen
in the street,

abuse,

theft,

illnesses,

many things…

Many more things.

He's filming how we take drugs.

He's filming us drugged.

Don't film us like that.

Do film something
that benefits us,

like when we laugh
or fight each other.

Hey! Tell him not to film me
taking drugs.

Take drugs or do
whatever the fuck you want.

It's your life!

Listen to me!

Alfredo!

Someone is going to bring us couscous.

Caballa couscous!

Just make balls and...
to the mouth!

There is someone
who is going to bring us food.

They are bringing us food;
they are a good person.

I was passing by
and I gave them something

for charity, they were starving.

I gave them breakfast
and they asked me

if I could bring them
couscous on Friday.

Since they are Moroccan,
they missed couscous.

What they wanted is for me
to bring them couscous on Friday.

So that's is.
I have complied with…

And that's why
I have brought them couscous.

If they had a roof over their heads,
a family, food…

I wouldn't send my son
to the street.

They wouldn't choose
to be in this situation,

because they have no love,
no food.

Who would like to be homeless?

I don't know what is the reason
that pushes them to be here,

there must be a strong reason
for them to be on the street.

If they had a good home,
a good family,

even humble,
but with a plate of food,

I think they wouldn't be here,
but I don't know.

I come from a normal family

but they don't make ends meet
to support us all.

When I'm older
I'll have no future in that environment.

I have to study
and I have to…

We had food and drink at home,

we were not hungry

but my family
doesn't have much money.

If I want something,

I have to work to get it.

My parents can't give me
many things

because of money.

Their work gives
just enough to live,

to bring food.

If I saw opportunities in Morocco,
I would stay there,

but I don't see them,

that's why I prefer
to go to Spain,

build a future,
enter the Center for minors

and study for a profession,
any profession.

The important thing is
not to stay in Morocco,

and when I'm older then return
with paperwork,

with my Spanish residence permit.

God help us.

We ask God
to get there safe and sound.

There're people
who are doing well economically,

with houses, rents,
cars, business…

Why do they send their children
to have a hard time?

There are people with money

who risk sending their children
to the sea,

paying for their transportation

without thinking
that they can lose them.

Why?
They have a good life here.

They leave no room
for those in real need

those who may
not even have parents.

Those are the ones
who must be helped,

because people don't know
that there are rich and poor together.

I know one to whom
his grandfather

bought a house,

and even having the house,

he went to the Center for minors
of Ceuta,

to continue the trip later
and go to Germany.

I know wealthy people
who have sent their children to Europe.

We cannot say that the Spanish
don't take care of our children

nor they don't devote
time to them.

We know there are
too many boys there

and you find boys who have
and boys who don't

sleeping together on the street.

God bless you all!

They are Moroccans.

Family family family…

Give us something to eat.

That boy was here, his family came
and took him.

Well, it will be to feed him,

then they will leave him
at the port again.

Family?
What kind of family is that?

You come from abroad,
stop by Ceuta to say hello,

and... do you leave him
in the street again?

That is not how you do things.

If they were a real family,
they would have to come and…

They would have to come
and take him with them

or something like that, okay?

Nothing! What family?!

If you are the family,
he is your son!

Turn off that fucking camera.

I've been in the Center for minors
for a month

and on the street
for a month and two days.

I've just gone to my home
for the religious holidays.

It's my mother who put me in Ceuta,
with the passport.

My mother comes to visit me in Ceuta
every three days or so.

She buys me clothes
and gives me money, 5 or 10 euros,

and brings me clothes…

I hope to achieve my dream of crossing,
either like this or paying.

I want to arrive in Spain.

My favourite cities are
Bilbao or Barcelona.

In Catalonia,
you can get paperwork very fast,

and there are Moroccans
who help others with their problems.

There are mosques where,
if you are seen going to pray,

they help you look for a job,
with a place to sleep…

They help you with anything.

I ran away from Morocco
for a reason.

Soon, half of Moroccan boys
will enter Ceuta and Melilla

because if they don't study
or work,

they will be forced
to join the Army.

They will be sent
to the Sahara Desert.

No boy wants that,

to be sent to the Polisario.

To the war…

The people are fighting.

Some tubes threw on him
and he died!

Who is dead?

- Tigaga.
- Was he doing risky with you?

He was not with me,
I saw him from afar.

Poor boy, he left his family
to come here to die,

what future is this!

-You should see it for yourself!
See if they are dead or not!

-We have not been allowed!
We have not been allowed!

Run, run and see what happened!

-We have not been allowed!
Do you want to be hit?

What's the matter now!

Do you wanna have
our bones broken?

-Fuck that!
I'm 21 and, since I was born,

I'm used to being hit like this!

I do not care about anyone!
I do not know the cameraman, fuck!

Don't film me! Get out!

Hey boys!

Are you men or pussies?!

Let's go in
and see what happened!

They are our brothers!

The police hit the boys

so that they can't see
what's happening.

They killed our brothers,

they said the boys
sneaked under a truck

and hosed them pressurized water
so the boys died.

Now we are going in to check it

and no matter if we are hit.

Life or death!

Come on, let's go!

-Who wants to enter?
Who is going to enter?

We're going
to be filmed entering, Ismail.

Where are you entering from,
Ismail?

If you don't come, don't ask!

Fuck it! Come on,
let’s get in!

I bring my passport
and I'm going in!

I have my passport in my pocket
and I'm fucking going in!

Come on minors!

Whomever stays here isn't a man!

- God determines what will happen.
- Alae may be taken to jail!

And what the fuck
is this one doing filming here?

Calm down,
so be it if God wills.

- There they are! Come on!
- Let's block their way!

Motherfuckers!

- He is not dead! Go away!
- Brother!

He is not dead!

He's fine!

They are our friends!

Go away!

You go away!

We have worried a lot about you.

Look, one of them.
He is still a litle dizzy.

You almost died!

He is still dizzy,
he was about to die.

The other one
is a little chubby,

that's why he got stuck,
without air.

Alae is a little better.

Was he also taken in the ambulance?

Yes, yes.

And Tagile?

He was taken in a van.

No no, he got into a truck.

Another one is coming, look!
Now there are two of them.

We got into a very narrow hole
well hidden and

when I wanted to get off,
I couldn't.

Then they brought levers
and started to open

until they took us out.

My friend passed out.

I say! Tell us what happened.
Shut up!

- There were three of us.
- And the fourth?

No, only three:
me, Rinconi…

The other was taken
to the hospital.

Everyone who wants to go
to the Peninsula

approaches their mother
and sheds a couple of tears:

'Mom, I want to cross'

or 'dad, I want to cross.'

Wealthy parents answer:

'Okay son, as long as you
don't sleep on the street.'

They come here and look for
the way to help him cross

on a zodiac, in patera,
or on a plastic boat,

so he arrives immediately.

However,
in the case of the poor boys,

when they ask their parents
any help to emigrate,

the parents slap them
and send them to the street

unable to help them.

That's why poor boys
sleep on the street,

waiting to be able to
sneak under a bus.

But you don't sneak under a bus
in an hour, or in minutes or days,

sneaking under a bus
can take months or even years.

Imagine all that time
living on the street while doing risky.

This is the difference
between some and others.

Moroccan boys from wealthy families
are sent in zodiac by their mothers

while poor boys
must risk their lives

exposed to death,
abuse, diseases…

Many things just to be able
to emigrate.

This is the difference.

Certainly we are seeing now
more pressure.

Previously it was one, two…
But now they jump ten at a time.

As you see, they go
even without a life jacket.

With whatever they're wearing.

It seems it's going to be
non-stop.

With operation Paso del Estrecho,

I think the flux of immigrants
has increased.

In the border,
there are children of different ages

who sleep on cardboards.

Who is coming to help
or cure them?

People just stop to tell them:

'Glue boy,
get back where you came from!'

That's why our children
die at sea,

because of mistreatment, hunger,
contempt and suffering.

The boy gets up in the morning
and sees his dad beat up his mum

just because of two euros
for the food.

In his mind he tells himself

that he prefers to die
than live this bad life.

I have been in Casablanca…

I have been in Casablanca to work,
but I slept on the street

next to the police station, in the port,
in the cold and the rain.

I endured.
I endured to work.

I used to take fish buckets
to sell them,

also cigarettes.

I also worked
in a small restaurant.

I didn't like Casablanca,
there are only problems there.

So I left the city.

Then I went to Marrakech.

There are not many jobs
in Marrakech.

I was in Jamaa El Fna square
making juice in a stand.

I was there for a week and left.

I came back to Castillejos,

where I stayed a couple of days,
and went to Fez.

I worked in Fez, in ceramics,

but I wasn't well paid
there either.

4 euros, 40 dirhams,
50, 60…

a day.

Half of my life
has gone on the street.

I don't know
what the end of this will be,

if it will end well

or badly, or if I will die.

I don't know.

When I arrived,
I phoned my mother

to tell her I had succeeded.

She knows I'm already a little man
and I would arrived.

It's her dream to see me like this.

She awaits me and
wants to see me to tell me:

'My son has bevahed like a man.'

Many relatives have called me

to ask me where I am already.

In a while they'll call me again

and I'll reply
that I'm going to Madrid.

Yesterday,
when I got off the bus,

I was thinking where to go

and I found some Moroccans
who helped me.

I ate something and
went to the Center for minors

to visit my friends,

they gave me clothes
and we had a walk around Madrid.

I smartened up
then I phoned my mother

to tell her that
I had arrived in Madrid

so that she could give me
her blessing.

Today I've been walking
around Madrid

and I've gone to the National Police
to have them register me

and get admitted
into the Center for minors.

I have relatives in Malaga,
Tarragona, Fuengirola…

Cordoba.

But I don't depend on them
to travel

nor do I want to ask them
for anything.

I take care of myself,
thank God.

There are people who help you

who take you wherever you want,
who buy clothes for you…

Regards to the boys
who are abroad:

Reda, Ismail…

Salam aleikum,
brothers who are abroad.

Whoever wants to come here

must change his mindset,

must stay in the Center

until he gets his documentation.

I am now at the police station,

I'm not 18 yet
but I will get a residence permit.

We've just had
our fingerprints registered

for the residence permit.

I was so happy,
this has been my greatest joy,

having my residence permit
and having it before turning 18.

At 16 years of age, I'm here
with my paperwork.

There were often many boys
fighting for a spot in just one risky

and you had to fight
and not be afraid of them,

even if they were many.

So we spent day after day,
with abuse,

attacks from boys from Ceuta,
addictions, solvent...

and abuse
in the Center for minors.

Why didn't I want to stay in the Center?

I have friends from my hometown there
but there are boys who abuse power.

If you stay,
you know you'll have to fight:

'this is mine, ' 'this is my place'
and so on.

The Center for minors there
didn't lead me anywhere.

You usually see boys of legal age
who are registered as minors

and maybe they have even committed
murder in Morocco

and they are among us.

Salam alaikum mom, dad,

I want you to give me
your blessings

and pray a lot for me.

I know that your blessings
brought me here.

God willing,
I'll come back to visit you.

I know you will be
very glad to see me

and you'll be happy to know
that I don't come back empty handed.

I have you all here,
you will never leave my heart.

Since he was a child,
he wanted to emigrate to Spain.

He only thought
about going to Spain.

He used to ask me:
'Get my passport.'

I said no,
he better remains here to work

and he used to tell me crying
that he didn't want to.

He used to run away from school,
he didn't want to study.

So I got his ID card and his passport
and got him there.

He was in the Center for minors
for five months.

We used to go to visit him
and see him from afar

because if the police
saw us with him,

they could accuse us
of having left him there

and I never wanted that.

I would have preferred for him
to remain at home with me

than to leave for Spain
desperately.

But he didn't want to remain,
he would say no,

and that was it.

He was sure that his future
was not here,

that his future is in Spain.

This mindset is typical of a man
so I give him my blessings.

I just hope he becomes a man

and I wish him to work for me

and make me retire
from the border.

My brother wants
to talk to the camera.

He wants to do risky,

he wants to come to Spain too
and be with me in Madrid.

He also wants to talk, okay?

Speak slowly, say hello,
say you want to cross, do risky…

Say you want to leave Morocco

because you have no studies
and in Morocco there's nothing,

so you want to enter Ceuta

to study a course
or look for life.

Salam aleikum.

I want to leave,
I want to do risky and enter Ceuta…

Not Ceuta, Spain.

I want to arrive in Spain
to seek a future

because in Morocco
there's nothing.

I have not even studied,
I want to go to Spain.

Say you are 13 and a half.

I'm 13 and a half years old.

I want to go to Spain
because here there's nothing,

here we just sit to inhale glue,
that's all.

This is life in Morocco.

I decided to take care of myself
and get money on my own,

because in Morocco
nobody supports you,

you are not valued.

If you have money there, you'll live;
if not, you won't.

But that's normal there.

I entered Ceuta to try to cross,
of course.

My mother wished me
a lot of luck

and that God help me.

God has helped me.

Now we're going to buy the ticket
to Vitoria, God willing.

There, boys are well treated
and there aren't many minors.

We thought that Barcelona
would be better,

that there would be subsidies, etc.

When you are in Morocco
and see your friends' pictures

with good clothes,

studying, with jobs…

then you also want to come
to Barcelona

to look for a better future,
to help your family…

When some Moroccan boys arrived,

they said that Barcelona
was very good…

-The others lie, yes.
They say that Barcelona is better,

that here you receive
a lot of pocket money,

that there's no need to steal…

What is heard in Morocco is a lie,

then you see there's nothing here
just sleep on the street,

no Center, you know?

Everything is trouble, jail…

Did you see the camera?

Two boys sleep here every day.

We sleep like this.

There are people who sleep here.

And some people in this hall,
come.

We sleep here.

It smells really bad.

You sleep like this.

You close the curtain like this
and that's it, to sleep.

So that you are not woken up.

So that you are not woken up.

Barcelona is not good
for boys of legal age,

it is for minors.

There are many Centers for minors,
not for olders.

Yes or no?

Boys of legal age
have to sleep on the street.

Look, the security guards
hit the boys with this.

They keep it here to hit.

Throw that shit
or we will be put in jail.

The police have stolen
40 euros from me

and my bag with my phone
and everything.

Now I don't have
my mother's phone number.

Chaabi, chaabi!

What's up brother?

Why is that guy taking pictures?

He came from Ceuta
to visit me, brother.

Are the boys OK?
Give them my regards.

We want support, sleep aid,
food aid,

a restaurant to eat,

a place to sleep.

I swear that this way
none would steal.

If it was so in Spain,
none would steal.

It would be better
to have a future here,

to do courses, to study…

This way we would all have a job

and none would steal, none!

The policeman said:
'Get out of here!'

We asked why
he wanted us to leave

and we told him
that we would stay here.

That's it,
the police can fuck off.

They come for us
and let others stay.

They said:
'This is only for Spaniards.'

'This place is only
for Spaniards.'

Are we not people or what?

-What about us?
Are we not people?

Animals!

We are animals!

If you are not well here,
you cannot say it.

If you do it, your family will be told:
'Look at your son,

he has gone there
and has nothing.'

That's why all boys lie,

all of them lie
saying that in Spain

you are given clothes,
food, housing…

There are many people in Spain
who are 18 and sleep on the street.

The way it works here is:
'No paperwork, no job.'

If you don't have paperwork,
you cannot work,

if you don't have paperwork,
you cannot rent a flat.

If you are Moroccan,
you will sleep on the street,

you will eat from the garbage
and you will steal.

The people here
force us to live like this.

We came in trailers,

in hiding places
where we risked our lives.

Sometimes
we even think of returning.

They don't know
what we go through to get here.

We do risky risking our lives
to get to this country and

when we are here,
we are called thieves,

we are called foreigners

and we have to sleep three months
on the street to be helped.

Muhammad our prophet
talks of Hegira

that means emigration;

if you don't find a future here,
you leave and look elsewhere.

I got on a bus to go
from Bilbao to San Sebastian,

from there to Irun
and from Irun to France.

I'm much more afraid now
than when I used to do risky.

Now I can be detained
and deported

and I'd have to start again
from scratch.

I hope God help me
along the way.

As it is often said,
may God take us to good people.

There're no Arabs on the bus.

It's difficult to find an Arab

who can specify an address,
a street to go…

Who helps you
and guides you a little.

I'm in the hands of God.

I only ask for one thing:
not to be returned to Morocco.

Friend, can you please
tell me where Tabakalera is?

- Tabakalera?
- Yes.

Here, behind.

Thanks, friend.

Staying in San Sebastian?

I couldn't because I'm not a minor.

Here you cannot live on the street.

There's no Center for
boys of legal age here.

If I was a minor, I
wouldn't have any problem.

God willing, I'll go to France or Holland,

just in case I may be presented as a minor.

Then I wouldn't be on the street.

How are you?
And the family? Well?

How are you doing?
I've missed you, how are you?

How are you sister?
I miss you a lot.

A friend has lent me his phone.

I'm in San Sebastian now,

I'm not in the place I was before,

I'm in San Sebastian
to pass to France.

Until I arrive,
don't tell anyone anything about me.

I'll tell mom once I have arrived.

If God helps me,
from France I'll pass to Holland.

Anyway, take care sister,
I miss you.

The border between France and Spain
is a river…

This is the border.

But don't get it confused
with this line.

Coming from there
you find a small river,

that's not the border.

The police are here many times,
in this corner.

They don't control
the buses much,

they look for blacks,
not for Moroccans.

-ID card?
Passport?

No, I'm new,
I'm going to France.

Where are you from?

I'm Moroccan.

- Morocco?
- Yes.

-Are you a minor or are you older?
How old are you?

-I'm a minor.
I'm going to the Center for minors.

I'll take your name.

- Your name?
- Nabil.

Is Nabil the name?

- April 30th, 2002, the date of birth?
- Yes, yes.

I'm a calm boy sir,

I'm coming to France
to the Center for minors

for playing football.

There are many Moroccans
who play football in France

and a lot of Algerians.

I'm a calm boy sir.

I hope for a future in France…
Please.

I've been detained
for six or seven hours.

The reason they gave me
at the police station

is that I wanted to leave Spain

and I have no documentation.

The French police detained me

and took me
to the Spanish police.

I'll try to go to France again,
I won't give up.

People are very different here.

They respect your rights.

If you speak French,
they bring you a French interpreter;

if you speak Spanish,
a Spanish one;

and if it is Arabic, the same.

They try to bring you
someone who understands you.

They brought me a lawyer
though I have no money.

Do you know from where?

From San Sebastian
and we are in Irun.

The lawyer arrived late,
but she arrived.

She did her job and defended me.

Now I've been allowed to leave,
thank God.

First I arrived in Algeciras,

from there to Madrid.

From Madrid to Vitoria.
In Vitoria the treatment was bad.

We were demanded some document

to prove that we were minors,

we were not allowed to stay there.

We woke up in the morning

and we were again asked
to provide documentation.

We were not allowed to enter,
we were left in the street.

We were on the street for a week

and then we went
to San Sebastian.

How can you get that documentation
if your mother is far away

and you have just arrived?

We were given no choice,
no choice but to leave.

In San Sebastian
more of the same;

the police picked us up
and took us to the register to sign us,

then they took us
to the Center for minors.

We were supposed to stay
in the Center for five months

but we felt overwhelmed
in that Center

so we decided to look for money

to travel and go to France.

We went by train.

The train we took arrived in Paris.

In Paris
we were looking for life,

Moroccan people helped us.

We were there a couple of days
sleeping on the street with a lot of cold.

Then we looked for money
to go to Belgium.

In Belgium we only remained
for one night.

Upon arrival, we started to beg

to get money
for the ticket to Germany.

In Germany
the police detained us,

they took our fingerprints,
did the red tape…

And finally
they brought us to the Center.

A Center, at last, thank God.

We came to seek a living here
but we will come back to Spain

because here no documentation
is made for minors.

Everything I do
is for documentation,

you cannot live
without paperwork forever.

In Spain, in Catalonia,
people help a lot,

it is said
that people help a lot.

In Spain, you can have
your paperwork done to live there.

They help those in need.

We'll have a bad time but,
at the end,

we will have our paperwork

and we'll be able to go
wherever we want.

When I heard on the ship speaker:
'Algeciras!',

I felt great and I got off the ship
in front of the police as a minor.

Although I was 17,
I told them I was 14.

I know how things are…

I've tried to cross for three years,
three years at the border.

Almost four years trying.

It's not easy.

I didn't even spend the holidays
with my parents.

I would rather die
than go back to Morocco...

I would rather jump off the plane
than be repatriated.

If I go back to Morocco
it will be with my documentation.

Fuck the envious.

We parted ways in Morocco,
met in Spain

and then met again in Sweden.

It's a present from my girlfriend.

What is her name?

- Alexandra.
- Alexandra? Cool!

That's good!

Put it, put it.

It's made of gold.

- It costs a lot of money, right?
- Yes.

Your girlfriend has a lot of money.

It's 24-carat gold.

- That good! What a girlfriend you have!
- A lot of money.

- Like Mohamed VI's.
- No no, she's my girlfriend.

His father is a policeman.
- Oh, a policeman?

- Yes.
- Then take this present too,

take my money,
what else do you want?

What are you saying, man!

Is it really that your girlfriend
gave you this gold?

Here there are…
20 grams or so.

-Regards to all our friends in Paris.
With you… Yeri.

Long live the boys! Be good!

We are all the same,
we are foreigners.

Harraga, harraga.

All the boys like life here.

You don't know anything
about my life.

Yes, I have stolen and
I have done many bad things

but you, motherfucker,

you have parents who give you everything
and cover your needs.

Your father may be a policeman
or a prime minister.

You have a mother who
wakes you up and gives you money.

If you have the balls,
spend a single night on the street,

you would call your parents
to help you.

I've been on the street for a year,
I have not seen my family.

I have spent the holidays
and even Ramadan on the street.

I'm sure if you spent an hour
on the street,

you would call Mom and Dad
to help you, motherfucker.

That's it, Alfredo.

What do you usually do here
during the day?

You know brother, just freedom,
sleeping, going to school…

Football, I play football here.

What do you study?

I study Swedish…
and English.

That's good, right?

- It is.
- Of course.

What do you want to do
here in Sweden?

I want to get paperwork.

Why?

To work, to visit Morocco.

To do many things,
with paperwork.

For example?

Don't you know?

What would I do with paperwork?

First I will visit Morocco.

I will work.
- In Morocco?

Yes, I will…
No! Not working in Morocco!

I won't go back to Morocco.

In Sweden you live very well,
not in Spain, I swear.

In Spain there is a lot of problems,
you know?

You don't have money, in the Center
you only get 12 euros a week.

With 12 euros you can buy
almost nothing…

I was in a Center in Barcelona
and I used to get 10 euros a week,

here it is far better…

Boys don't have money nor anything there,
they only steal.

They steal, steal, steal;
one case, two cases…

After three cases,
you go to a detention center.

Until you come of age,
then you are sent to Morocco.

Where is that?

In Barcelona, in Madrid,
in all Spain.

I did eight cases in Madrid.

- You?
- Eight cases.

If you steal, you'll be sent to Morocco,
you have to think about it.

Are you going to steal?
If you steal a lot: diamonds…

Rolex, Richard…

You will pay for it.

The one who thinks:
'I'm going to mug this man, '

the one who thinks that,
will pay for it.

That's clear.

If you steal today, tomorrow
and next week,

for two years, three years…
Then you will pay for it.

Do you know how much
is the pocket money here?

30 euros.

30 euros.

Listen…

in a week here you will receive

70 euros.
- A week?

70 euros and a half.

Yes, a week.

At the end of the month,
how much will you collect?

At the end of the month
you can go to buy clothes.

Not to buy clothes made in China
but clothes from Nike or any brand.

Where are you?

About of this kids, they
sometimes tell us that they have...

they are in contact
with their families and...

I mean,

I've been working with
this for seven years but

I still don't understand
allways the reason:

Why they are in Europe?

Some people tell me
that is a culture thing,

but is difficult to understand
because a lot of this kids come,

they stay... some of
them only stay a few days,

some stay one month,
some stay three months,

then their friend from
another country calls,

and tell them that the live
in that country is much better.

All of them come to that culture.

They have none when they're
lived here, they have a home.

They have their friends
nearby, they've activities,

playing football, going to school...

They have a lot of help
from the social services,

but still they are unhappy and

one day gets all of these assists,

and everything becomes calm, a
lot about other problems comes.

They start thinking about their family,

they start thinking about
other things reflecting on,

but there been true,
they feel it's unfaire,

to have so much problems
when just being a kid.

This kids are happily a lot of them,

and never have been able to be just kids,

and life a normal live.

I think a good solution would be for
the countries, for Europe,

to try to help then in Morocco.

I don't really know what
the real way is for them,

and what we can do but...

we are doing our best.

To be honest,
when I'm on Facebook

and I see the videos
of my friends abroad,

I see them stronger,
whiter, handsomer,

they dress well, live well…

When I see them
I don't feel envious

but I feel frustration and I wish…

I wish I was like them,
at their level,

to be with them.

The truth is that I miss them a lot.

When I remember them,
my heart aches inside.

After everything
we went through together,

and in the end,
to see your friends like that

and see that you have not taken
any steps forward…

Makes you think of wasted time
and many other things…

And it makes you feel such heartache
that it makes you sick inside.

Nothing of value remains,
only the desire to reach abroad

and sit next to your friends,
with whom you lived so many things.

Close the door, please.

Take a sit, Ismail.

I'm going to give you good news:

Firstly…

Your documentation
has been renewed

for a year,

until July 12th, 2020.

Other good news:

you are going to the Peninsula,

you are going on Friday

to a flat in Jerez.

Are you happy?
- Yes, a lot.

On Friday morning.

Tomorrow I'll tell you
the departure times of the ship,

of the helicopter or whatever.

Finally, congratulations.

Do you remember how you were before?
Look at you now.

Do you remember last year
by these dates

when I picked you up from the hospital
and you didn't want to come?

You wanted to stay on the street…

You have achieved all of this
by staying here, that's it.

Congratulations!

Give me a hug, man!

Well, whose birthday is it today?

What a joy, right?

Come on, let's…

Let's celebrate, okay?

Great.

Ismail! Ismail! Ismail!

Does anyone have a lighter?

Nobody has one,
nobody smokes…

How are you?

- How are you?
- Fine, thank God.

- Were you sleeping?
- Yes.

I've spent all night at customs.

- Hello Fatima.
- Hello, how are you, good?

Today
I have to tell you something.

God willing I'm going to Spain.

God willing.

God willing, I will go
only if it's in my destiny.

You have made me happy.

Happiness.

Much, much, much,
much happiness…

I was afraid
that everything you went through

would come to nothing.

Don't worry, don't cry.
God closes a door and opens another.

Handsome!

My handsome boy.

I feel like holding you
and scream of happiness!

And remembering when
I carried you on my back.

Take care, Ismail!