"We have to be careful — we've been hindered by the police a dozen times," says Marlene Micheloni. She explains that while they can't arrest volunteers for handing out food, they have tried their best to intimidate them out of doing so.

The 64-year-old, an active member of the largecharitable group Baobab Experience, explains how they have to collect the blankets distributed to the group of 40 or so refugees who sleep behind Rome's Tiburtina Station every morning. If they don't, officers patrolling the station will confiscate them.

A refugee takes part in a demonstration against the government's anti-migration policies

At one point, Baobab had a camp fully staffed with volunteers set up near the station. There, they prepared full breakfasts, lunches and dinners for asylum-seekers, offered Italian courses, organized cultural outings and provided assistance navigating social services and the legal system for the thousands of refugees who passed through Rome.

Even though far-right Interior Minister Salvini may now be on his way out, the impact of his anti-immigrant, nationalist policies on the lives of migrants are likely to long outlive his one-year tenure. After taking office in June 2018, Salvini set about cutting off access to social programs and dismantling Italy's official refugee camps. Baobab's makeshift shelters were some of the first to be cleared.

Officials have now put a tall metal fence around the empty lot near the station. It guards weeds, while the people who once lived there are forced to shelter under the limited protection offered by the train station outbuildings.

Read more: Italy's left protest movement buoyed by Salvini setback

Migrant life in Italian dystopia From dream to dystopia Conceived in the 1960s as a seaside town for the Neapolitan middle class, Castel Volturno, which stretches 27 kilometers (17 miles) along the Mediterranean, grew without any urban planning. In 1980, it became a shelter for people made homeless by an earthquake in nearby Irpinia. Subsequently tourists turned to other sea spots, and the local economy crumbled. Nowadays 30,000 rooms stand empty.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia A place called home Castel Volturno is home to about 40,000 people. Many came from sub-Saharan Africa, mostly Nigeria and Ghana. The immigrant presence dates back to the 1980s, when Africans filled the demand for manual labor in the tomato fields.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Setting up a new economy Ester has a talent for hairdressing and makeup, so she recently opened her own salon. Due to the lack of services and economic opportunities, the African communities created their own economy, relying mainly on small shops, restaurants and mobile phone stores.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia 'I have what it takes, but I am still begging' Israel, from Nigeria, was rejected for numerous jobs due to lack of papers. After several times back and forth to the refugee commission, he was finally granted asylum until 2021. Even so, he remains unemployed. He ended up in Castel Volturno after looking for a cheap place to live.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Organized crime territory This area has always proved fertile for the expansion of criminal organizations from the nearby cities of Naples and Caserta. On September 18, 2008, the powerful Casalesi clan shot dead six African migrants to affirm their control over the area. The victims were chosen randomly and had no connection to drug dealing, one of the crime organization's businesses.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Connection houses Connection houses are private apartments that function as restaurants, places to gather and also brothels. African men come here to have a drink, smoke and, if they wish, have sex with prostitutes. Older Nigerian women tend to run them.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Dreams don't come true J., 26, from Delta State in Nigeria arrived in Italy a year ago. Her dream was to complete her education in Italy, but she ended up working in a connection house in Castel Volturno. According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), 11,000 Nigerian women arrived on Italian shores in 2016. The number fell to 5,425 in 2017, but they remain among the top nationalities to reach Italy.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia 'Somebody shouts hallejah' The last 20 years have seen a surge in the number of Pentecostal churches, most of which can be found in abandoned and run-down buildings. These days, there are around 30 churches in the Castel Volturno area.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia 'Only God will help us' Pastors celebrate in a mixture of English and Italian dialect and undertake all sorts of cures, including healings and exorcisms.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia New hope B. was trafficked to Castel Volturno in 2004. She sought help from the New Hope charity in Caserta, which provides trafficking victims with education and vocational training as tailors. Today she is a happily married and the mother of two.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Second-generation chases opportunity Former player Massimo Antonelli founded TAM TAM Basketball as a tool of integration in a place with few facilities and social activities for adolescents. At the end of 2017, the team launched a campaign to play in the official Italian league. Parliament then passed a bill changing sporting regulations, so that all children born in Italy to immigrant parents are allowed to compete.

Migrant life in Italian dystopia Dreaming of the future Victor, 14, and Fabian, 12, have both grown up in Castel Volturno, raised by Nigerian families. Despite the many problems of their hometown, they regard it as a beautiful place. Both want to become professional basketball players, but Victor also has a flair for electronics and logistics. "I would move from here. It's nice, but there are no jobs at all," he says. Author: Valerio Muscella (Castel Volturno, Italy)



Vicious circle

Micheloni is part of a rotating group of unpaid volunteers who are keeping Baobab going, in spite of these many setbacks. Some of them get up at 6 a.m. to prepare breakfast for the asylum-seekers, later driving them to job interviews, helping them with their paperwork, and, in the evening, cooking dinner for about 100 people. There's an intense sense of trust and camaraderie between the community organizers and the refugees, and none of the condescension that can often characterize official interactions or the attitude of the Italian media, which left-leaning Romans say often takes an anti-immigrant stance.

Migrants in the group living behind Tiburtina are mostly from West Africa, but also come from the Middle East and elsewhere. By and large, they are grateful for Baobab's help, but they are also frustrated — at a closed Italian society, a lack of a foreseeable future, a government that seems determined to make them someone else's problem and journalists, too, for making them an object of pity.

"Italy is not open," says Hadim Nyassi, 21, from Gambia, who has been back in Italy for about 10 months. "They don't want us here. I went to the Netherlands, and then Germany. But then I was sent back here. We can't work. We can't live anywhere. But we also can't leave." He describes settling into life in the Netherlands, only to be sent back to Rome when his temporary residency ran out.

Italy's 'Golden Waves' art project promotes solidarity for migrants

Behind Tiburtina Station, blankets await retrieval by volunteers from the Baobab Experience

Nearly one-third of Italians see immigration as top issue

In June, the Interior Ministry published data showing that the number of asylum-seekers being sent back to Italy from other EU nations has tripled in five years. In 2014, about 2,500 refugees were sent back, compared to 6,500 last year, for a total of 24,000 people between 2013 and 2018. It appears the willingness of northern European countries to shoulder a more substantial part of the refugee wave, a policy espoused by Germany in particular in 2015, is slowly coming to an end.

This is part of the reason why despite Italy's economic struggles, as well as longer-standing issues like corruption and organized crime, a recent survey carried out by the European Union found that 32% of Italians believe that immigration is the most pressing problem plaguing the country. That could account for part of the previous administration's drive to send away refugees and close Italy's ports to refugee rescue ships.

"We just exist. We're restless. Some guys here are starting to get frustrated that they will never be able to support a family, living like this. I'm not there yet, I just want some kind of future," says Nyassi.

Others in the group, who do not wish to be named, echo the same sentiments. Though they are sometimes able to find short-term work with Baobab's help, they have begun to feel trapped in a labyrinth of official disinterest, bureaucratic hurdles, flagrant xenophobia and police harassment. And volunteers can only assist so much when pushback is occurring at every level of civil society.

In some parts of Italian society, a certain element of cognitive dissonance is at play. Many who have supported Salvini and his far-right League party will not espouse openly racist views, and often display kindness and generosity to migrants they meet without seeming to connect the dots between the party they voted for and why the refugees in their neighborhood have such hard lives.

Micheloni says she is still very concerned that "35-40% of people are still supporting fascists like Salvini." This is especially worrying for many in Italy who care about the treatment of refugees because although the League is out of government now, if the new coalition government falls, the party could do well in a new election. And even if that does not come to pass, Micheloni points out that the current administation is filled with lawmakers who either approve of Salvini's policies or at least will not move to repeal them.

"We will fight to educate people, in the streets, in the bars, in sports centers, etc. We need to encourage people to use their right to protest and nonviolence, which is essential to combating neo-fascism."

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