Distrust about the age of Gambian minors drives them out of the protection system: "It's as if they don't exist."

GironaTwo Mossos d'Esquadra cars responded to the call. The boy was crying, understanding nothing. Helpless. Lost. Overwhelmed. It was a December night last year on the outskirts of Cabanes, a small town in the Alt Empordà region. The rest of the center's inmates looked at him with a mixture of resignation, anger, and sorrow. So much sorrow. The officers took the boy and drove him to the Figueres station, bidding him farewell with a cold "good luck."

La—a name to preserve the young man's anonymity—is 16 years old and has a childlike face. He is reserved and polite. He measures his words carefully, and his eyes only sparkle when he talks about soccer and shows a video of himself playing in a tournament in Salt. He plays very well. On December 10, 2024, he was expelled from the La Perdiu juvenile shelter in Figueres. He was one of the 356 children whose age was tested by the Prosecutor's Office and determined to be adults despite their passports stating otherwise. Most were Gambian.

"I like Girona"

In June 2024, La arrived in Spain by boat. First in Tenerife, then a brief stop in Valencia, and finally in Girona. "I like Girona," he confesses with a smile. A friend of his who lives near Salt, Bahore, gave him the Girona football team jersey on one of his trips to Sukuta, the town where they both lived as children. And when he arrived in Catalonia, he wore the red and white jersey with pride and hope.

Life in La Perdiu was boring. The thirty or so children who lived there took Catalan and Spanish classes in the morning, played games in the afternoon, and had rotating duties at the center—helping in the kitchen, cleaning bathrooms, sweeping—which earned them 60 euros a month for their needs. "We spent many hours doing nothing," La admits, smiling when asked about the teachers. "I don't know why some of them were mean to me," he confesses shyly.

When the Prosecutor's Office gave him an age test, they took him from a shelter that at least served as a way for him to gradually ease himself into the new country. He began to cry, and within two hours the police were picking him up to take him away from the center. "You're in shock. I had no family; it was a really bad time," he recalls. The first thing he did when he arrived alone in Girona was call his father, who put him in touch with the family of Bahore, his childhood friend, for help. At least for a while. Eight months later, he's still living there. There are seven of them at home, and he knows that, no matter how much he contributes with the food the Red Cross gives him once a month, the situation isn't sustainable. "I need papers and a place to sleep. I don't know when I'll have to leave my friend's apartment. I live here without any papers," he explains with concern.

The same day that La left the center accompanied by two Mossos d'Esquadra patrol cars, as if he were a young man arrested for a crime, Ba arrived at La Perdiu. Paths that crossed and now intertwine. These days, early in the morning to avoid the stifling summer heat, they go running together in the woods, spending hours together to combat the loneliness of being in a strange country that doesn't recognize them.

"They leave without a registration card, a health card, or any hope, just a passport that the administration doesn't believe in. It's as if they don't exist. It's an ethical aberration," says Lluís, a social worker who worked as an educator at La Perdiu for a few months and has become a key player this year. Lluís travels to Girona every week to help the group of young people who have been expelled from juvenile centers. Núria, from the Girona Acull organization, has also been involved. "They're angels, I love them so much," the young Gambian confesses.

Ba is very different from his compatriot. At 1.95 cm tall, he's imposing. He's also more daring. He turned 18 in July, according to his passport. But according to the Prosecutor's Office, he was already of legal age before his birthday. He arrived in Spain on August 22nd of last year, after a 12-day journey since leaving Manjai Kunda: by boat to the Canary Islands, then Tenerife, Alcalá de Henares, and finally Girona. In Madrid, when they told him he was leaving, he was the one who suggested going to Catalonia. He had seen videos and was clear about his destination.

"I wanted to go to Catalonia; I like it a lot. And I knew Girona because of the football team," explains Ba, who left his homeland because "for young people" there are no future prospects. And even more so for people like him with a special characteristic: he wants to be an athlete. "I thought I had talent, but no opportunities, and that's why I left," he says, confident that one day he can fulfill his dream of pursuing athletics. He also admits that his family situation, with many siblings and even more poverty, forced him to seek a life far away. "My parents had nothing to offer me," he says with a serious face.

In March, the school director told him he wouldn't have school that day. To begin the process of obtaining his documentation, he had to take the age tests. Shortly after, he was told he had to leave La Perdiu. Like La, he went to Girona. And he didn't dare call home to tell them: "They wouldn't have been able to sleep." Thanks to a classmate who also ran athletics in Figueres, he contacted Girona Acull, which saved him from the streets. The organization paid for his shelter and later found him a shared apartment with the city council.

Dreams of the future

"They're in limbo," laments Núria. "They're children in some ways and adults in others." Since they're considered minors on their passports, they can't access certain resources that are only for adults. But, at the same time, the Prosecutor's Office considers them adults, and this deprives them of access to other aid. "People want to work, but without papers, you can't do anything," laments Ba. Neither can they work nor do what they love most: La can't play soccer, and can only train three days a week at the Guixeres field thanks to the generosity of Edu, a coach who helps kids like him, or like Ba, who can't compete in his two athletics events, the 800 and 400. He can only train at the GEiEG and, at least, now he doesn't pay the 45 euros he used to pay at Figueres; 45 of the 60 euros he earned at La Perdiu doing odd jobs.

"I always think that one day I'll be the next Usain Bolt. And I'll go to the Games!" beams Ba before greeting Hamza Bouchallikh, a young Moroccan who lives in Girona and is among the world's best athletes in the 1,500m. They hug in a chance encounter near the train station, and the Moroccan takes an interest in the Gambian's training. Moments like these are what give him hope. "I'm happy, I have teammates, people have gotten along very well with me, but I still need to make real friends, people from here," says Ba.

If athletics is his dream, La's is football, the chance to play for a local team. He knows all the Girona clubs, even recognizes a 13-year-old Barça player in a photograph—"It's Fode! Fode Diallo!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with terror—and dreams of being able to go see a Girona match, a dream he shares with the Catalan club. "I'm happy when I'm playing, but when I'm alone, I think a lot, I go over my situation a lot, and that's not good," he explains in Catalan with a marked Girona accent. "My Catalan isn't good, but I try to speak it," he explains. However, he actually speaks it very well and already has a certificate proving it thanks to the language courses he's taken, practically the only ones offered by emergency centers. A Catalan that should help him study plumbing, the job he wants to pursue when he grows up.

"If I had a company, I would hire all Gambians. They have good hearts, radiate pacifism, and are in brutal physical condition," explains Lluís, who criticizes the fact that these tests are pushing young people into "homelessness" and "crime." He gives the example of a boy who just called him to say he's gone alone to Lleida to earn a living in the fruit harvest. In Girona, during 2024, 149 young people who had a passport determining they were minors were declared of legal age. According to the Prosecutor's Office, when there are doubts about the reliability of the passport, something that occurs only in Gambia, a police and expert report is requested, which, if negative, entails forensic medical tests.

Internal pressure from educators and organizations has caused these tests to "drop" slightly in recent months, acknowledges Núria, who gives the example of a young man who was due to be expelled from school, but the process has been halted. These age tests had previously been questioned by the United Nations and the Ombudsman's Office.