In the heart of Ceuta, a city located just across the border from Morocco, a small group of women and volunteers has taken it upon themselves to provide shelter, food, clothing, and basic hygiene to hundreds of migrants who have arrived in recent days. The situation escalated dramatically after a mass influx of people seeking refuge from the ongoing humanitarian crisis in North Africa. Among them, a woman named Sabah, a local businesswoman, has become a central figure in this effort. Her home in the neighborhood of Los Rosales has transformed into a makeshift community center, operating nonstop for 14 hours a day, serving up to 400 individuals daily. Every morning at nine, Sabah opens her front door, and she doesn’t close it again until well past midnight, sometimes even later. Her house, which normally houses her family and a few neighbors, now functions as a communal space offering meals, laundry services, and temporary shelter. It also serves as a base for organizing efforts to locate missing persons and assist vulnerable children. The transformation was swift, following the sudden arrival of thousands of migrants, many of whom were stranded with little more than their belongings. Sabah’s home is one of several locations where locals are stepping in to fill the gap left by government agencies, which have yet to fully respond to the urgent needs of the displaced. Alongside Sabah, a network of Muslim women from Los Rosales, El Principe, and La Reina has been working tirelessly, cooking meals, sorting clothes, collecting hygiene products, and searching for safe spaces for those sleeping outdoors. These efforts are supported by donations from residents, local businesses, and even children who contribute their savings. The work continues around the clock, with volunteers preparing large quantities of food and distributing supplies to those in need. The conditions in which these migrants live remain dire. In the courtyard of Sabah’s home, men and children wash themselves using plastic containers, buckets, and makeshift showers. There are no proper bathrooms or changing facilities, so they rely on shared resources. Women, however, manage to maintain some level of privacy by using the bathrooms in the lower floors. Despite the lack of infrastructure, the community has found ways to support each other, ensuring that basic needs are met. One of the most pressing concerns is the shortage of underwear and other personal items. Sabah explains how she had to give away her family's stockpile, including her husband’s and children’s undergarments, to meet the demand. She also highlights the importance of protecting minors, especially girls. Over the past few days, four young girls arrived without warning, and others came with damaged clothing and desperate pleas for help. Some of these girls have reportedly suffered sexual abuse or exploitation, prompting local activists to create safer spaces for them. In response, a group of long-time community leaders, including Usman and his friend Abdal, have set up a secure area for women and children in a nearby sports field. This site, previously used for watching football matches during the World Cup, now hosts a makeshift sanctuary where survivors can rest and recover. Here, two teenage girls try to relax with a bottle of orange soda, having been rescued from dangerous situations. Their presence underscores the scale of the crisis and the urgency of finding sustainable solutions. Meanwhile, local authorities are struggling to keep pace with the growing number of people requiring assistance. Activists like Abdeselam Mohamed, president of the Sidi Embarek neighborhood, describe the situation as unsustainable. He reports that over 200 people, including women, children, and elderly individuals, are currently living in the improvised camp near the sports field. The lack of sanitation facilities has led to health risks, with women forced to relieve themselves in the surrounding hills, increasing their vulnerability to infections. Despite these challenges, the community continues its efforts, relying on grassroots initiatives rather than formal aid. Local organizations such as the Cardijn Association and the NGO Luna Bl have joined forces with residents to provide immediate relief. However, there is still a clear call for greater governmental intervention. Abdeselam notes that while the regional Social Services department has provided some water taps, it is far from enough. The municipal delegation has yet to offer meaningful support, leaving the burden largely on the shoulders of ordinary citizens. As the days pass, the story of Ceuta becomes increasingly intertwined with the broader humanitarian crisis unfolding along the Mediterranean coast. The resilience of individuals like Sabah and the collective action of the community serve as a testament to the power of local initiative in times of extreme need. Yet, the question remains: how long will this informal system sustain itself before external support arrives? For now, the focus remains on keeping people alive, safe, and dignified.
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