EGYPT: Death in the surf

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The tide of bodies rises along Mediterranean coastlines. They roll and tumble in the surf, washing up on beaches, getting tangled in rocks amid the seaweed. They are mostly men and boys looking to escape the poverty of Africa; many of them come from Egypt, where high inflation and years of joblessness have forced them to board small, unsafe fishing bound boats from Alexandria and other ports.

The men are the hope of their families, but they have also become a national despair. In October, at least 57 drowned off the coast of Sicily. The other day nearly 40 died off a beach in Turkey. Pictures of them, face down in the sand, haunt and anger Egypt, but still the men go, with a single set of clothes to their name and crumpled phone numbers in their pockets.

Not long ago, mourners gathered in an Egyptian town at the desert’s edge for the funerals of their cousins, sons and uncles delivered back from failed journeys. Men filed down an alley. They sat in a room, and spoke about desperation and risk; death banners waved in the dusk outside.

A boy sat among the men. He was small, wriggling in a chair, his feet not touching the ground. His eyes studied the men, listening to their stories, glad to be counted old enough to sit among them, but still boy enough not to understand why the men tugged their voices tight, speaking at times in whispers. He looked around and seemed to realize that whatever was happening could not be explained. It could only be endured.

— Jeffrey Fleishman in Cairo