From Belarus to the AZC boat

On the calm waters of Haarlem, a small Dutch city known for its quiet canals and gentle charm, lies a boat. From a distance, it may look like an ordinary boat, but inside, the atmosphere is anything but relaxed. Here live stories of loss, survival and the constant search for something as basic as safety. On the boat live hundreds of asylum seekers whose lives were compulsorily paused between the violence they fled and acceptance in the place where they landed. Far from their homeland and still far from a new home, they wait - not for days, but months, sometimes years.

On deck, the silence feels heavy. People go out in shifts for fresh air. Some smoke a cigarette together, some softly carry on a short conversation, most stare silently ahead, eyes fixed on the water but thoughts far away.

The heaviness of waiting

“The waiting is the hardest part,” says one of the boat's staff, who wishes to remain anonymous. “Not knowing whether they will be allowed to stay or sent back. It's a pain we find it hard to imagine.” The boat is a home for people from Eritrea, Somalia, Sudan, Syria - countries scarred by conflict, repression and displacement. Their routes differ; what binds them is that difficult in-between phase. In paused life, there is no clear way forward and no safe way back.

Among those on board is Zewuditu, a 27-year-old woman from Eritrea. As soon as she starts talking, her eyes fill with tears. The pain lies just below the surface. “People don't leave their homes unless they have no choice,” she says. “I cannot live in Eritrea - there is no future there. You leave or you disappear.”

Because of Eritrea's authoritarian regime and indefinite military service, thousands of people flee every year. Many take dangerous routes through Ethiopia and Sudan, risking extortion, human trafficking and violence. Some, like Zewuditu, pay smugglers for fake documents to enter Europe through an increasingly notorious backdoor: Belarus.

Via Belarus

In 2024, the European Commission reported a 66 per cent increase in the number of asylum seekers arriving in Europe via Belarus, particularly via the Polish-Belarusian border. The spike in irregular arrivals shows how smugglers are increasingly taking advantage of desperate people. The former ‘route of hope’ has turned into a risky highway into Europe.

“I travelled to Belarus with a fake passport arranged by smugglers,” Zewuditu says. “I flew from Ethiopia to Dubai and then to Belarus. After a week in the Belarusian forest, we were picked up by Belarusian guards. We stayed there for three months. It was terrible.” Her voice falters. “They beat us, took our money, burned our clothes and demanded sexual favours in exchange for basic services.”

She is silent for a moment, wiping away her tears. Some stories are too painful to tell out loud. “Months later, we tried to enter Poland again, this time at a place called Grodno. We crossed the border, but the Polish border guards caught us and sent us into the Belarusian forest again. We spent another day in the wilderness.”

Her group made several attempts to cross the Belarus-Poland border, but was always met with violence and arrests. “On the fourth attempt, we entered Poland, but the police still picked us up. They detained us for three days, took our fingerprints and then sent us to the Poladiska camp. There we stayed for over two weeks, after which I left Poland and eventually ended up in the Netherlands.”

Caught on a floating relief boat

The boat in Haarlem was meant to be a temporary stop - a place to await permanent housing and a legal decision. But the Dutch asylum procedure is notoriously slow. And so residents stay on the boat and wait for their interviews to take place and a decision to be made. Some residents lie in bed all day. Others sit in the lounge or walk up and down the narrow path along the boat. Cigarettes are a constant companion. Alcohol or drugs are also regularly turned to - not for pleasure, but to quench the gnawing feeling of insecurity.

“Yesterday I got the letter,” says Zewuditu. Her voice sounds flat now. “They want to send me back to Poland.” That decision falls under the EU's Dublin Regulation, which stipulates that asylum seekers should be treated in the first EU country where they are registered. For Zewuditu, that is Poland - where she was detained, humiliated and terrified. “They don't care that I never lived there. That I was abused there. All that matters is that they have my fingerprint there.”

Between safety and suffering

Towards evening, the boat is bathed in soft yellow lamplight. Inside, people sit in small groups. Some sip tea, others scroll silently through their phones, their faces lit by the soft blue of the screen. A few play table tennis. Most retreat into themselves.

The boat in Haarlem embodies a strange paradox: a place where people are physically safe but mentally exhausted. The wars they fled are behind them, but in their place came new battles - with sluggish systems and the constant fear of deportation or rejection. For these asylum seekers, the boat is both a refuge and a cage of uncertainty. The Netherlands keeps them above water - literally - but they never quite belong. As night falls and the city becomes silent, inside, a soft light continues to glow, of hopes, sorrows and dreams that do not extinguish. Tomorrow, after waking up, the waiting begins again.

The above article previously appeared in an adapted version at The Facto.