Refugees in Palermo

"I was at sea for 20 hours - 20 hours! And the boat was full of water."

18-year-old Thambo from Mali describes how he was rescued by the Italian Navy in international waters somewhere between Libya and Sicily. "The rescuers came, gave us life vests, got us out - they saved my life."

That was in June 2014. Today, Thambo and 37 other young Africans live in a refugee shelter run by the Caritas Catholic aid organization in a suburb of Palermo on the Italian island of Sicily. He had nothing when he arrived here from the admission camp on the coast. Now, he owns donated clothing and, most importantly, an old cell phone and headphones. He can listen to music or use the shelter's WiFi to access the Internet. Thambo can't phone home, though - too expensive - but he can send WhatsApp messages to his mother and friends in Mali. "I have still my mother. My father died - I'm not married like others here - and I've left my mother alone in Africa."

'People will still come'

Thambo recounts how he traveled from Mali through the desert to Libya's coast, how a shared taxi was ambushed, and some passengers were shot dead. He worked in Libya, but often enough, the Arabs beat him up. Somehow he got in touch with a smuggler who sold him a seat on an old wooden barge. Thambo believed life would be better in Europe, in Italy. Many of the young men in Palermo have similar stories to tell.

Mamadou is also from Mali. In June, the Italian Navy pulled the 24-year-old farmer from the sea as part of its Mare Nostrum naval search-and-rescue operation. Originally, his overcrowded fishing boat had been crammed with 115 people. After two days, they ran out of water and food. Mamadou recalls the boat sprang a leak, and the Italian rescuers were on the spot just hours before it would have sunk.

"I heard they're stopping Mare Nostrum," he says. "That's a big disaster because, even if they stop it, people will still come. And if they're not rescued, the boats will capsize because it's not safe for those boats to be in the water for more than one or two days," Mamadou warns. Mamadou says he also crossed the desert on his way to Libya, where he worked for a year and spent some time in jail.

Back home in Mali, the rebels wanted to recruit him, but he managed to flee. "I ran away from my country because there was a revolution there, especially in the region where I lived," he says."One day they attacked my village and took me, my brothers and friends to the bush. We were supposed to fight against the government forces." Mamadou has two brothers and two sisters. He has no idea what happened to them.

Waiting in Palermo

For the refugees, Palermo means waiting. They must testify before a government asylum commission, and it often takes up to a year before the decision on the asylum application is made, said Francesco Vizzini of the Caritas organization. The young Africans in the shelter can go into the city if they want. Some manage to find side jobs or hire themselves out as day laborers. Some work by the hour in the garden of the refugee camp. The refugees are housed in a former home for the elderly. On the first floor there are still people in need of assisted living help. They are cared for by Catholic nuns. The neighbor across the street waves amiably from her balcony to the refugees. She has, admittedly, complained before about the noise the young Africans make playing table football on the terrace. The loud "clack, clack" of the ball can get on the nerves. Therefore, Caritas has introduced a midday pause for the asylum seekers. During the mornings, Italian courses are scheduled. It is difficult for some to learn the language of their host country. They sleep late and watch television in the common room. Otherwise they spend their time first and foremost in rooms with three to five beds each.

Waiting.

Thambo would rather work. "It is better to have documents and to be working. It's not good to just to sit around," he said. Mamadou wants to travel further north. One can work there, he's heard. His dream country is Germany, he said, smiling broadly.

The refugees are not actually allowed to leave the city of Palermo, according to Vizzini, but many continue their journey regardless. He knows this because Caritas operates other camps in the region.

Christopher Hein of the Italian refugee council in Rome confirmed that the Italian refugee system, which has rescued more than 100,000 refugees in operation "Mare Nostrum," is overburdened. The refugees from Africa or Syria want to travel further north to find relatives or because they hope to find work. "We are seeing a second movement out of southern Italy towards Austria, Switzerland, Germany, the Netherlands and Sweden. Within the European Union, the people are trying to reach another country. They have to again travel illegally and often once again pay money to smugglers and traffickers," Hein said. According to the so-called "Dublin Rule," refugees must apply for asylum in the first EU country they arrive in.

Wanting to help

Italy is going to let its rescue operation "Mare Nostrum" expire. The program replacing it, Operation "Triton," has been underway since November 1. Mare Nostrum is organized by the EU border protection agency Frontex, but it is under Italian command. Triton will, as opposed to Mare Nostrum, only be active close to the Italian coast to prevent illegal immigration.

Father Sergio Mattaliano, the director of Caritas in Palermo, is opposed to the change.

"Operation Triton will likely be successful in monitoring the coast and sealing off Europe. The goal isn't to save lives, but to close Europe off."

Father Sergio wants to help. The 38 young Africans in his shelter have grown close to his heart. They trust the Catholic clergy. The fact that most of the refugees are Muslim does not play a role.

"They call me father. I am a type of father for them. In me, they see a possibility to heal from their injuries. In Sicily, in Italy, they see a possibility to realize their dreams and be treated well."

Refugee Thambo hugs the father sincerely, putting his arms on his shoulders. Father Sergio speaks slowly and calmly to him, even when he doesn't understand many of the Italian sentences.

How things will proceed, Thambo doesn't know all too well. He is letting things happen as they will.

"Well, I am only here once. That's life. Maybe tomorrow I can decide whether I will stay in Italy or head to Germany. I will see what this life brings."

When Thambo heard that this reporter in Palermo will simply get on an airplane in the evening and fly north, he grew very silent. For him, that remains only a dream.