The local opposition to the eviction of those from the B9 camp in Badalona has been largely concentrated around the Can Bufí Vell municipal shelter, where about ten sub-Saharan migrants sought refuge after the eviction, and in front of the Church of Our Lady of Montserrat, which was only supposed to house 15 particularly vulnerable people from the camp. Beyond these two locations, which drew about 500 people over two days, there has been no other community opposition. Nor has there been any in Sant Roc, where the C-31 camp is located, the city's most deprived neighborhood, plagued by structural problems of evictions, squatting, power outages, unemployment, and extreme poverty. The residents are mostly Roma and have largely stayed away from the migrants' tents, and in some cases, there have even been displays of solidarity, such as donations of clothing or food. "They are people like us, poor like us, how can we throw them out?" exclaims a woman walking down the street with her grandson. But some disagree with this recognition of class and feel discriminated against. In a bar, the regulars having vermouth before lunch agree that everyone has rallied around migrants, while, conversely, no one goes to the UN about the problems of locals, about the elderly who don't have homes. The conversation ends abruptly when the waiter turns up the Christmas music to drown out "politics." "A beer for me and another for my fellow countryman!" shouts one of the customers.
"Why don't they want us?": Uncertainty and despair in the distribution of B9 migrants
The relocation plan is only partially implemented, and dozens of people remain under the highway bridge.
BadalonaUnder the C-31 bridge there are more questions than answersThe only certainty this Wednesday, Christmas Eve, is that dozens of those evicted from the former B9 high school in Badalona remain without relocation assistance from the Red Cross and the Department of Social Rights. Essentially, they are asking for more information to assess whether it's worth leaving their lives in this remote location for temporary shelter, even if only for two months. "Yesterday, everyone was rushing to get people onto the buses, but without explaining how or where, without giving these young people any information," one complains. Victoria Columba, from Regularization NowFor him, the plans "have arrived late, are poorly done, and are insufficient" to address the needs of all those affected.
For Tyrat (who avoids giving his last name), a welder without a contract at a company in Badalona because he lacks "papers," the official offer doesn't appeal, precisely because leaving the town where he has been barely surviving for over four years would mean losing everything from his job to his friends. "Two months go by quickly, and then what?" he says, adding that he prefers to stay out in the open. "What if it's cold?" I came in a small boat; the sea water was colder then.“I’m used to suffering,” he says. Mamadou (who also doesn’t give his last name) has no intention of leaving Badalona either. He says he’s not afraid of the reaction of a Part of the population of Badalona is opposed to giving any aid to the migrants of B9, because there has never been any confrontation between them, but it also raises a question: "Why don't they want us? What have we done wrong?"
Another Mamadou, surnamed Cobar, has decided to leave, because he wants "some warmth to sleep and rest." The problem is that this morning there is no sign of the Red Cross buses that the previous afternoon were in charge of carrying out the transfers to the accommodations found by the organizations. There are only volunteer staff from Regularización Ya and the small local organization Badalona Acull, with Carlos Sagués As a public face, he is concerned that the terms of the agreement reached with the Government have not been met. The hours pass, and exhaustion is evident among the evicted young people who have been sleeping rough for eight days, and also among the volunteers who accompany them distributing food and warm clothing. Phones connect the bridge to the Palau de la Generalitat (the Catalan government headquarters) to ask why the operation has stalled when a relocation within two days was agreed upon. "President Salvador Illa told us to go ahead, that there are another 30 places available, but that there are no buses," laments the activist, who is also weary of the days spent going back and forth. The Red Cross maintains that no one has activated them for today and that, in any case, future relocations must be referred by Badalona's municipal services. When inquiries were made at the Department of Social Rights, no response was given.
Paper and pen
Last night, Cobar didn't understand what was happening because No one had explained to him in detail how the relocation would work.He doesn't have any more details now, but he's surely seen that the two months offered in a hostel fit into his plans to be in Badalona around February, right when he's been promised a job. But his expression changes when the volunteers tell him he can choose between Girona, Lleida, or Tarragona. "Is there a metro?" the young man asks. The volunteers tell him no, and try to explain that they're 100 kilometers away and that there are trains and buses. They don't get anywhere. "They haven't even given us a map," one of the activists complains. Finally, they draw a schematic map of Catalonia with the four points marked to geographically situate the young sub-Saharan Africans and show them the destinations they can choose. Cobar hesitates and leaves his packed suitcase on the floor. "I don't know, none of my brothers want to go," he says.
![A man combing another man's hair at the bridge camp that still houses dozens of migrants.](data:image/svg+xml,%3Csvg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" viewBox="0 0 6000 4000"%3E%3C/svg%3E)
Sasha Nouvikova has returned to the C-31 camp after spending a night in a hotel in Malgrat de Mar. This young Ukrainian woman boarded one of the buses with her partner, not really knowing where she was going, drawn by the idea of escaping the cold and having a bathroom next to her bed. "We've been very comfortable; it's been a long time since we slept or rested so well. We've had our Christmas miracle," she tells the volunteers happily, but at the same time, she also expresses a worrying uncertainty. "I came to confirm whether we'll be here for two months or if we'll have to leave on January 1st, because nobody knows," she explains. If the temporary accommodation is ultimately for eight weeks, she'll take her suitcases to change her clothes. If, on the other hand, she has to return in a week, she'll leave her things at the homes of friends who are kindly letting her store them.
The volunteers are writing down with pen and paper the names of the people who agree to leave for temporary accommodations. Sagués states that they have made dozens of lists of the occupants of building B9 and that, even months before the eviction, they prepared "files with all the personal data," to the point that the organization was able to identify the most vulnerable people: "We had the names of the sick, of women with a history of gender-based violence, of young people who had left foster care, of those seeking small benefits. We had done everything very professionally so that each department could take care of its groups, and look what has happened."
