Violence against women* on the move
Elli, 34 years old, was on a rescue mission with the Humanity 1 in October 2025.
Trigger Warning: Sexualised Violence
She was sitting, frozen, on the side of the rubber boat. Panic surrounded her, people climbing over each other. A baby was crying, and it sounded like a person screaming. She was unable to move. The sea shook the boat harshly, throwing people around. Every ten seconds I lost eye contact with her because of the waves and the chaos. I lost her completely out of sight, hoping she was somewhere among the survivors.
Hours passed which felt like five minutes—there was so much happening. A mass casualty plan was activated. All the survivors suffered from hypothermia and dehydration. Nobody could walk by themselves; more than half were not able to walk at all. We gave tea, blankets, checked on people like Omar, who were drifting between unconsciousness and complete collapse. All this while, three-meter waves slammed the ship, rolling it violently. The horizon was not horizontal anymore.
Finally, I could simply hold her hand
Finally, I had time to check on her again. The moment I spoke to Raja* (NAME CHANGED), she smiled at me. She was one of the only people sitting and not lying down. I held her hand and gave her more water and tea. “Are you ok?” I asked. “I’m fine,” she answered, both of us speaking broken Arabic. After a while—I don’t know how much time passed—we could finally bring her and the mother with the baby inside the women’s shelter. But she was still too weak to take a shower. She lay in bed and closed her eyes while the baby cried from fuel burns. It was another five hours, I think, until the medical emergencies were evacuated, and the women’s shelter was harshly quiet now that the baby and his mother were gone. But there was finally time to just hold Raja’s hand and sit next to her.
Understanding without words
I didn’t sleep that night. I wanted to stay. The next day, she took my hand and put it gently on her scars and just said, “Libya. Man.” The scars on her arm showed where fingers had dug into her skin. They showed the force used against her. I can’t help but get images in my head, remember the feeling of being forcefully held down by a man. I could escape; she could not. Imagining what she had to go through in Libya hurts. Very carefully we touched her scars, not saying a word but understanding each other…
I was happy to be exactly here
Whenever I had the chance, I went into the women’s shelter. She couldn’t’t eat anything. When it was time for disembarkation, I sat next to her, holding her hand while she rested her head on my shoulder. Her head felt so heavy my heart ached, but I was happy to support her in that moment as the Italian authorities and the Red Cross came on board.
In that moment I noticed I was needed somewhere else but leaving her on that bench was one of the most difficult moments. The reason they called me away was because I needed to take photos of the two people for whom the evacuation had come too late. I needed to leave her on the bench to take a photo of people who lost their lives because European politicians are not doing their job. Filled with rage, I stood up thinking, if all of the people on the boat had to see them die, I want European politicians to see it as well—even if it’s just a photo, even if the chance they look at it is very slim.
The EU supports the system of abuse and rape
I knew she would be okay, sitting on the bench, that she had been through worse, but I just wanted to make the time she spent on board as comfortable as possible. I came back as soon as possible and after a short while, the Italian medics quickly examined her. I covered her so she could put her headscarf back on. I brought her to the gangway, gave her a hug, and Raja left for Italy; She set foot in the European Union – the same EU which supports the Libyan actors responsible for forcing women* into a system of abuse and rape.
