KENNY KARPOV

Despite It All We Never Learn
Exhibition Page

SAMIRA, 27, CHAD

I was imprisoned for six years in Libya. When the terrorist attack from Boko Haram in Nigeria happened, my family and I moved to Cameroon. Once there an attack from Boko killed my father and my mother died of sorrow. After that I stayed with my little brother. There, I took care of him for a while. I was then kidnapped by Boko Haram and brought to Nigeria. Once there, another convoy was sent and kidnapped my brother. I stayed seven-and-a-half months in Nigeria with the guy who kidnapped me. He repeatedly raped and abused me. Then one day I had enough...I fled. I was with my little brother, we ran to another part of Nigeria. I met another person who offered to help my brother and I. I accepted. This man took us to Niger. He then beat, abused and raped me countless time. I then fled once again, with my brother. But this man tracked us down, and sold us to a man in Libya for money. So my brother and I were sold to another man. This time, a very light skinned man. We stayed in Sabha, Libya. He owned me and my brother. I was hit everyday by him and some days, he’d bring other men, many men who would then beat and rape me. A month ago, I found out someone shot this man. A friend of his offered to help my brother and I. I told this man I couldn’t go back to Chad. There’s no family there. I cannot go back to Cameroon, because everything my father built was destroyed. The men said he would try and help me, in anyway he can. I was scared of him because in Libya people are very brutal. I have the scars still from all the beatings I took. My brother said, one night, “We’re leaving, let’s head to the beach!” We jumped the gates from where we stayed. We ran to the beach and saw the boats. My brother jumped into the boat and as scared as I was, I followed him. When the water started to enter the boat in the middle of the night, I was getting more and more scared. Many men took their clothes off to ring out the water....but there was too much, the water kept going. Then we saw a plane. We had no idea where we were, whether it was Tunisia, Morocco, we didn’t know anything...we screamed, we screamed more. Then the men took their wet clothes to wave

MOHAMMED, 55, PAKISTAN

From the beginning I was working for a large cement company in Pakistan. For a long time I worked for them, then for a year I worked for an Italian company, building a big dam near the river. Then, in 2013, I joined the EPA company. We also gave treatment to children who have polio. The terrorists killed many of my friends who worked alongside me during this year-long job. I was afraid of them killing me. I received many deaths threats over the phone, telling me to stop the work I am doing. We were working in the mountain areas, trying to help people and the children. I couldn’t stop this work. We would travel to different villages and do this drip program for the kids. Usually two men and one woman. During one time, these men who don’t agree with the program, they opened fire on us, and killed two people. I chatted with a friend from this program, who said, he’ll send me to Libya for work. I told him yes, I cannot continue to work here. The terrorist called me the night before and said again, that if I don’t leave this work they will take my children from the house and kill them. I have three sons and a wife. I left Pakistan in 2015. Once in Libya, I stayed with a few friends and worked a few odd jobs. The agent who flew me to Libya, he told me he’ll find a way to get me to Europe. During this time I was living in Tripoli, mostly labor work. Then one day, about six months living there, some men came and arrested me and my friends. They took all my money and mobile phone. After that I struggled a lot. But I started over again, living and trying to make money. I moved to a different part of the city a year later where, again, men robbed me and my friends. I am 55 years old. Born in 1962. I cannot sleep on this boat. All I think about are my three sons and my wife. I cry every night. I have no mobile, no contact with them. I want asylum in Italy and bring my family. In Libya, they don’t understand who a human being is. They just kill to kill.

MICHAEL, 17, GHANA

I left Ghana because there was no work and education for me. I studied photography in high school. I love photographing nature, landscapes and skylines. I very much want to continue studying photography when I reach Europe. I don’t care where, I just wanna continue my education. Once leaving Ghana, I traveled with a man for a couple months working in Niger. I was paid ok. Then I met another man who told me about more work. The job was in Libya. I took the job as I needed more money to get to Europe and send money back home to my family. I will tell you, Libya is not a very nice place. Violence is so common. Shooting at anyone, men, women, it’s nothing to them. They treat us (black) men as slaves. After only a few days, I was arrested and thrown into a prison. They would beat people everyday, for no reason, just beat, beat you. Sometimes they would feed us or give us water. But we have to work and then give our money to them. If you didn’t give them money, like ransom, they would beat you more and sell you to another man, who would continue the beatings. I was with one man, who they shoot right in front of me, because he had no more money and said his family was poor. Before you rescued me, I was still locked up in prison, we heard gunshots, and then the men came in and took a few people and shoved us into a car, we had no idea where we were going, but I needed to escape. The car was moving fast, and I jumped out and just started running and running til I saw shore. Once there I heard a man speaking my language, I asked him what is going on here, he said people are being loaded onto boats, so I walked down closer and snuck myself on a boat that night into the sea.

USAMA, 40, SYRIA

As a refugee, all I want now is to find a safe place where me and my family can settle down. A place where we do not have to fear for our lives every day. I honestly will miss my home. It’s where my wife and I met. It’s where I saw my children climb a tree for the first time. It’s where I kissed my wife for the first time. I will miss Syria. I hope to find a place where our lives are respected and where human rights mean something to people.

IBRAHEM, 17, GAMBIA

I was born in Gambia. My family has suffered a lot, I have five brothers, two are not working and three are. Everyday I was suffering going to school. The teacher would call me out, “Ibrahem, where is the money?” I felt so bad sitting with my friends and I cannot afford classes. Some of my classmates would even tell me, “You haven’t paid? You must!” So one day I told my mum, I want to quit school, she told me “No! We will pay small amounts to keep you there. You must learn, Ibrahem.” After that school year, I told my brother I want to travel to Libya. He said it’s not safe. I know some boys that have gone. I told him everyday all I do is play futbol, I’m not working, I’m not learning. I need to help the family. I told him, I want to help the family by sending money, because everyday my parents and brothers are suffering. My family is poor. I cannot sit here. I started my journey in 2015, by leaving Gambia to Senegal. I worked there for a couple months making small money, which I sent home. After there I went to Mali, for six months. Again I tried to find as much work as I could to help my family. Afterwards I stopped in Burkina Faso, for seven months. I next traveled to Niger, where I stayed for eight months, working mostly cement or construction jobs. I made okay money, saved some for me and the rest I sent home. I then traveled to Libya. I called my brother to tell him I made it to Libya. He was upset, he told me I shouldn’t have gone. But I told him again, this is all for the family, the money and me going to Italy. I was captured when I first set foot in that country, the men took me to a prison called Osama, where I stayed for two weeks. The United Nations came after a few days, and gave us clothes, water, blankets. That night after the UN left, the Libyan men started beating us, very badly. All night they were beating me, telling me that if I say anything to the UN in the morning they will kill us. I was told if I pay 500 dinars they will release me back to the streets. So the next morning I called my brother and explained the situation I was in. My brother said he would try to send money. After two weeks, my brother sent the money and I was free. A few hours later when I was in the taxi, men grabbed me in the road and said now I must pay 2000 dinars for my freedom or they will kill me.

After I was taken to another prison, the men who captured me hooked some cords around my feet and plugged them into a socket. It hurt very much, so much pain. 30 or 40 seconds at a time. They pulled a gun out and shot. Boom, Boom right near me. After that the men who dragged me outta the car said I must call my brother and demand money – 2000 dinars – or they’ll kill me. My brother didn’t believe me when I rang him, so this man, he took out a large knife and cut along my leg. He snapped a photo and sent it to my brother. During this time my hands were also tied together in front of me. The whole time they were shouting at me, not a week from now, money fast...fast! My brother sold one of our compounds (land) to set me free. I told him during this whole time to not tell my mum, as she is very sick. She doesn’t need to hear this. Once in Italy I want to continue to learn and work. I want to study!

IBRAHIM, 20, SUDAN

I traveled alone from Sudan. I watched two of my brothers and my father being killed in front of me by militants. My father was a farmer. They wanted his land. My mother is still alive, but I do not know where she is. I am one four children. I thought it would be easier somewhere in Europe. That way I could support my family and myself. They need a lot of help right now. My country does as well. Always fighting. Never any peace! From there I talked to a friend from Sudan who was living in Libya and it seemed to me that the life there were better than in Sudan. There was a lot of crime in Sudan. When I arrived in Al-Qatron, my friend met me and bought me home to live with him. I worked as a brick mason with him. We worked everyday for hours and were paid barely anything. Some nights, walking back to his house, we were robbed at gunpoint and forced to give over the money we just made. My friend told me about the sea crossing. He said we should try this. It’s our only way out of this hell. That sea crossing would have to wait for a while. Everything you have on you, the Libyans will try to take from you, you have no right to have anything. Look, every person on this ship was probably tortured. Or witnessed someone getting killed. While walking home after a full day of working, a couple of men jumped out from a car and grabbed my friend and I. Next thing I know we were in the truck of the car, and driving somewhere. When the car stopped, we were taken into a house, where other black men were standing. I went there for work, but when I arrived, I was auctioned off to other men by a few light-skinned men. I was sold for 1,000 Libyan dinars. The man who bought me beat me with an iron bar and then with rubber, while friends of his filmed and laughed at me. They were filming to force my brothers back home for money, for my freedom. They kept sending videos and images of them beating me daily, demanding more and more money. This all happened in a house, in Sabha almost a year ago. They barely fed me any food, only salt water and crackers that the man threw at me and I ate them off the ground, like an animal. I only asked for food. Anything you ask for, I was hit. Prison would have been better than this man’s house. It was a hole. I suffered so much there. Once I saw a man, a friend of the owner, he was drunk. He stumbled into this house, first yelling at us and then he pointed at a couple of the young boys lying down. They were all pretty sick. He took them to his truck, and shot them in the backseat. A bunch of us watched this from the open slots in the window. After they died, a friend and I had to pick up the bodies and bury them. I had to stay with him until I paid my way out. I finally made my way to the sea, after six months with this horrible man. I understood the risk of taking this passage. One thing I didn’t know is that it would take three or four days to Italy. We were told it would take a couple hours to freedom. I had no idea the crossing would be so large. I thought it would be small, where you get on the boat and sail for a few hours and see land. This is what was told to us prior to getting into the boat. I miss my home a lot. I hope one day I’ll be back and things will be just like before. I hope to find my mother and connect with my brothers once in Europe.