Ghosts of the Sahara
Photographs by Andrew McConnell. Text by Stefan Simanowitz
Stefan Simanowitz is a journalist, broadcaster and human rights campaigner.He is chair of the Free Western Sahara Network
“When you live in the desert it becomes a part of you and you become part of the desert,” says Salek Sahah Yahia.
Yahia is 70 years old and a citizen of Western Sahara – a country occupied during 19th-century colonisation of Africa, divided as the Europeans withdrew and now in a limbo that has lasted more than three decades.
As its name suggests, there is much desert in this small country, only the size of Britain, which lies along Africa’s Atlantic coast. Even for the visitor, there is something about the space, the silence and the light that gets beneath the skin.
Western Sahara’s indigenous population, the Saharawi, have lived as nomads for centuries, rearing sheep, goats and camels. Descended from Bedouin Arabs who arrived in the 13th century, the Saharawi have their own culture and traditions as well as their own distinct Arabic language. They are, however, now without a country of their own. In 1884, the Spanish colonised the territory, and in the 1960s began exploiting phosphate deposits. As decolonisation movements gained momentum across the continent, it became increasingly clear that Spain would have to cede control, but in the 1970s, as preparations were being made for transition to independence, both the Moroccans and Mauritanians asserted territorial claims over the area. The Spanish agreed to divide the country between them – in exchange for fishing rights and partial ownership of mining interests.
The Moroccans and Mauritanians may have been satisfied, but when the Spanish withdrew, the Saharawi independence movement – the Polisario Front – declared the creation of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic. A 15-year war ensued, with the Mauritanians withdrawing in 1979. Morocco fought on, and still controls three-quarters of the territory.
The war displaced many thousands of Saharawis, who fled to refugee camps across the border in Algeria. Despite a 1991 ceasefire, more than 100,000 of them are still there. Aziza Brahim, a 34-year-old singer, was born in a camp in the Algerian desert, and, like many refugees, she left behind not only her home but also family members. “I never got the chance to meet my father before he died,” she says. “The pain of this is carved into my spine.” She still has brothers in the “occupied zone”; their only contact is by telephone. In order to prevent Saharawis returning to the part of Western Sahara that it controls, Morocco has constructed a 1,500-mile fortified barrier that cuts the territory in two.
For those Saharawis in the camps, a traditional nomadic way of life is impossible. Home to nearly 30,000 people, Dakhla, the most remote of four camps, is entirely dependent on outside supplies of food and water. Summer temperatures regularly exceed 48°C and with sandstorms and scarce vegetation, it is little wonder that the area is known locally as “the Devil’s garden”.
Under the terms of the 1991 UN-negotiated ceasefire, a referendum on self-determination was promised but has yet to take place. Arguments over voter registration have been blamed for the delay but it is no secret that the Moroccans do not want a referendum. Instead, they have put forward a plan for Saharawi autonomy within Morocco. In 2007, King Mohammed VI made his country’s position clear: “We shall not give up one inch of our beloved Sahara. Not a grain of its sand.”
Despite many attempts to break the long-running diplomatic stalemate, progress towards a resolution has been tortuously slow. There are, nevertheless, some signs that the international community is renewing its focus on one of the world’s longest-running conflicts. On July 2, a UN spokesperson described the bilateral meetings between several governments and Christopher Ross, UN special envoy, as “very useful, reflecting a fresh interest in moving beyond the status quo and finding a solution”.
Meanwhile, in May, following the passing by the UN Security Council of another ineffectual resolution, Saharawi prime minister Abdelkader Taleb Omar declared that “the Saharawis have reached the end of their patience … [there] can be only two solutions: peace or military escalation.” Although a return to full-scale war is unlikely, there is a growing militancy among the Saharawi. Since May 2005 there has been a series of non-violent protests in Western Sahara dubbed the “intifada”, and in the refugee camps old and young talk about the possibility of a return to armed struggle.
For the moment it is just talk. Talk that helps lift the air of despondency that has come from a lifetime of desert exile. In the words of a Saharawi poem: “What have we done with the years, so distant and yet so close? Did they fall, squandered, between the oblivion of tradition and the thirst of the dunes?”
