An anguished wait by the border. Every few minutes the same question breaks the silence in front of the fence that separates Morocco from Ceuta.
“Have you seen my son? Do you know him?”. It is the phrase most heard among those waiting for news of a missing relative since the massive entry of tens of thousands of migrants into the Spanish city on July 30.
They come from Tangier, Fez, Casablanca, Tetouan, and other Moroccan cities. Some have been sleeping near the border for several days. Others go through hospitals, morgues, and police stations without getting answers.
They all hold the same gesture: a mobile phone with a photograph that they show to anyone returning from Ceuta.
According to Spanish police sources, at least 44 people remain officially missing, although humanitarian organizations and families warn that the real number could be higher. Among those still unlocated are children as young as nine years old, teenagers and young people, as well as a 55-year-old woman.
Many of the missing left their homes convinced by messages spread on social networks that assured the border was open and that reaching Ceuta would be easy.
What they found was a journey that ended up becoming one of the worst recent migration tragedies on Europe’s southern border.
Spanish authorities have confirmed at least 72 fatalities, while Morocco has not released an official count of the dead, injured, or missing. The testimonies of those who managed to return coincide in describing scenes of chaos at sea, with hundreds of people struggling to stay afloat amid the waves and currents.
“There were many dead,” recalls Jalil, a Sudanese worker who crossed several African countries before trying to reach Ceuta by swimming. He returned injured because he realized staying there was impossible.
Other migrants recount how they saw companions disappear among the waves without being able to do anything to help them.
Behind every photograph there is an interrupted story. Zahra is looking for her brother Abjanib, a 23-year-old university student who had a job and whose decision to cross the border she still cannot understand.
“Young people want a better future, but this is not the way,” she says while holding his photograph.
Ibrahim also finds no explanation for the disappearance of his 17-year-old son. He left Fez with barely 400 dirhams — about 40 euros — money he had saved to buy clothes.
There are also stories that symbolize the human cost of this tragedy. Among the fatalities is Faten Ben Amar El Azizi, a young promise of Moroccan women’s football. Her club, Maghreb Atlético Tetouan, lamented that the athlete was not seeking “fame or adventure,” but “a new door for her future.” She died before reaching the coast of Ceuta.
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The same digital platforms that in the days before amplified rumors about a supposed opening of the border have now become the main tool to locate missing persons.
Since then, they have not heard from him again. “We have gone to the hospital, we have asked the police, and they tell us he is not registered either among the detainees or among the deceased. That is why we are still here waiting,” she recounts.
Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X are full of photographs of minors and young people accompanied by desperate messages.
“Please help us. We are looking for my 13-year-old brother” or “If anyone has seen him in Ceuta or Fnideq, please call this number” are some of the messages.
Local pages that usually published sports or entertainment content now function as improvised search boards.
In the absence of an official information channel for families, organizations working on the ground denounce that parents depend almost exclusively on these posts to try to reconstruct their children’s journey.
The Spanish Civil Guard has set up a specific office to receive missing persons reports and has asked families to provide all possible information — photographs, physical descriptions, or identifying data — to facilitate search efforts.
While authorities continue investigating what happened and rescue teams maintain search efforts at sea, Fnideq tries to recover its routine.
The beaches are filling again with families and tourists, shops are reopening, and the bustle is slowly returning to a city that just a few days ago was the scene of an unprecedented human mobilization.
But for hundreds of families, normality no longer exists. Many do not know if their children managed to reach Europe, if they remain hospitalized, if they were returned to Morocco, or if the sea ended up becoming their last border.
Every person crossing back from Ceuta represents a new hope. Families approach, show a photograph, and ask the same question over and over: “Have you seen my son?”.
Until an answer arrives, they will keep waiting by the sea where their dreams disappeared and, perhaps, also their loved ones.
