My Fourth Time, We Drowned: Seeking Refuge on the World's Deadliest Migration Ro

Description: My Fourth Time, We Drowned by Sally Hayden Winner of The Orwell Prize for Political Writing 2022 Winner of The Michel Déon Prize 2022 Winner of the An Post Irish Book of the Year Award 2022 Winner of the An Post Irish Book Award for Nonfiction 2022 A Financial Times Best Political Book of 2022 A Kirkus Best Nonfiction Book of 2022 A New Yorker Best Book of 2022 A Guardian Best History and Politics Book of 2022 The Western world has turned its back on migrants, leaving them to cope with one of the most devastating humanitarian crises in history. Reporter Sally Hayden was at home in London when she received a message on Facebook: "Hi sister Sally, we need your help." The sender identified himself as an Eritrean refugee who had been held in a Libyan detention center for months, locked in one big hall with hundreds of others. Now, the city around them was crumbling in a scrimmage between warring factions, and they remained stuck, defenseless, with only one remaining hope: contacting her. Hayden had inadvertently stumbled onto a human rights disaster of epic proportions. From this single message begins a staggering account of the migrant crisis across North Africa, in a groundbreaking work of investigative journalism. With unprecedented access to people currently inside Libyan detention centers, Haydens book is based on interviews with hundreds of refugees and migrants who tried to reach Europe and found themselves stuck in Libya once the EU started funding interceptions in 2017. It is an intimate portrait of life for these detainees, as well as a condemnation of NGOs and the United Nations, whose abdication of international standards will echo throughout history. But most importantly, My Fourth Time, We Drowned shines a light on the resilience of humans: how refugees and migrants locked up for years fall in love, support each other through the hardest times, and carry out small acts of resistance in order to survive in a system that wants them to be silent and disappear. FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Sally Hayden is an Irish journalist focused on migration, conict, and humanitarian crises. She is currently the Africa correspondent for the Irish Times. Sallys work on Libya has been featured by the New York Times, the Guardian, Channel 4 News, CNN International, Al Jazeera, TIME, BBC, Die ZEIT, Der Spiegel, the Sunday Times, the Telegraph, ITV News, and other outlets across the world. She has reported on other international stories for the Washington Post, the Financial Times Magazine, and the Thomson Reuters Foundation. In 2019, Sally was named as one of Forbes 30 Under 30 in Media in Europe, in part because of her work on refugee issues. Review Terzani Prize/Premio Terzani 2024 Winner A New Yorker Best Book of 2022 Irish Journalism Awards named Sally Hayden "Journalist of the Year" for 2023 "A deeply researched and harrowing chronicle of the experiences of many refugees fleeing dictatorships, violence, persecution, and war. The book is the culmination of a one-woman fact-finding mission to uncover the myriad abuses faced by migrants hoping to make a better life for themselves in Europe." -- Foreign Policy "[A] landmark work of reportage about the migrant crisis." -- The New Yorker"A magnificent, engagé investigative report… [an] act of witness" - - New York Review of Books "A magnificent, engagé investigative report… [an] act of witness...It is clear from [Haydens book] that the current politics of immigration have turned & twisted human nature against itself and our own kind and are fostering unimaginable maltreatment of those who wish only to survive and live a better life… [It] strongly convey[s] the urgency of fundamentally rethinking immigration policy… It is already late to act, but that is a poor reason for inaction." -- The New York Review of Books"Haydens powerful book relays the harrowing stories migrants have shared with her from their experiences in various Libyan migrant detention centers, from enduring near-starvation conditions to torture and even death...an accessible, critically reported account..." -- The Washington Post "I frantically underlined journalist Sally Haydens first book, My Fourth Time, We Drowned ... Readers should ... let Haydens vital reporting make them reconsider their view of what makes a moral world." —The Baffler "My Fourth Time, We Drowned is journalism of the most urgent kind." —The Financial Times "There is perhaps no better testament to the racist double standard at the core of European border policy than the accounts of refugees and migrants collected in. . . My Fourth Time, We Drowned." —The Intercept "[A]stonishingly detailed... My Fourth Time, We Drowned is not simply a catalogue of misery: it is a meticulously documented record of the complicity of the very organizations that are meant to be forces of good." —The Times Literary Supplement "The narrative is consistently harrowing, revealing the complexities within a global crisis that lacks an easy solution, especially as the numbers of refugees mount. An important contribution to the literature of forced immigration and humanitarian crisis." —Kirkus (Starred Review) "A meticulous account of the horrifying North African refugee crisis . . . Painstaking details and a roundabout timeline make My Fourth Time, We Drowned informative, while the testimonies from the refugees themselves pulse with difficult truths that will shock (and maybe mobilize) conscientious citizens across the globe." —Foreword Reviews "Intrepidly reported and vividly written, this sobering account shines a spotlight on an underreported tragedy." —Publishers Weekly "The painful themes from this formidable book are skillfully written about by Sally Hayden..." -- New Lines Magazine "Good journalism of this sort should, at the very least, make the reader angry. Excellent journalism should not only make one angry, it should make the reader feel the pain and the fear intrinsic to the reportage. It should make the reader want to act, to yell, to raise their fist, to do anything but throw up ones hands in despair. In My Fourth Time, We Drowned, Hayden does all that and more." —Counterpunch Magazine "...a brilliant, unparalleled investigation of one of the most underreported scandals and monstrous crimes of our time." —Responsible Statecraft "A wrenching account of what people will endure in search of a better life." - The Washington Independent Review of Books "My Fourth Time, We Drowned is the most important work of contemporary reporting I have ever read. Every citizen of the European Union has not only a right, but also a responsibility, to learn about the realities described in this book. I hope that Sally Haydens work can help to begin a radically new and overdue discussion about Europes approach to migration and borders." —Sally Rooney, author of Beautiful World, Where Are You "This book is a comprehensive indictment of the EUs inhumane approach to the thousands of people that come to us seeking sanctuary. Her stories of the people trying to get here against the odds are gripping, shocking and heartbreaking. Sally Haydens My Fourth Time, We Drowned is impossible to put down. It should make the plight of its protagonists impossible to ignore." —Ben Rawlence, author of City of Thorns "One of the most important testaments of this awful time in lifes history. It is both heartbreaking and stoic. I cry reading any page of it. Sally Hayden is a young and brilliant journalist." —Edna OBrien, author of The Little Red Chairs " I had stumbled on a human rights disaster of epic proportions, writes Sally Hayden in the prologue of her remarkable story of the ongoing migrant crisis in Europe. Contacted blind, on the phone, by a desperate young man locked in a brutal refugee camp in Libya, Hayden embarked on a years-long effort to document the courage, humor, kindness, and resilience of ordinary people trapped by circumstance, and the tragic moral failure of the west to help them. The refugee who sent her the first Facebook message in 2018 had no way to know it, but he had reached exactly the right person. Read her book." —Mark Bowden, author of Black Hawk Down "A must-read for all of us" —Andrea Elliott, author of Invisible Child "My Fourth Time, We Drowned is a veritable masterclass in journalism. Unexpectedly finding herself a journalistic agony aunt for migrants being tortured, starved and raped inside horrific Libyan detention centres, Sally Hayden weaves together their WhatsApp and Facebook messages to produce the most riveting, detailed and damning account ever written on the deadliest of migration routes." —Christina Lamb author of The Sewing Circles of Herat: a Personal Voyage Through Afghanistan "Irish journalist Sally Hayden describes one of the great tragedies of our era, the story of the thousands of refugees bent on starting new lives in the West, who instead spend years rotting in Sudanese refugee camps, trapped in Libyan prisons, clinging to sinking dinghies in the Mediterranean. Her harrowing portrait captures the voices of the Eritreans, Somalis, Ethiopians, Gambians and Sierra Leoneans caught up in this pitiless modern slave trade, who constantly remind us that the desire to better yourself is the most fundamental of human impulses. This is a remarkable and important book." —Michela Wrong, author of In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz "This vivid chronicle of the lives and dreams of those who risk all to cross the Mediterranean to reach Europe, may make you cry, but it should make you angry. It is not just a blistering rebuke to those who torture, rape and imprison, but to the rest of us, who turn a blind eye." —Lindsey Hilsum, author of In Extremis: The Life and Death of the War Correspondent Marie Colvin "Sally Haydens heart-stopping account of the plight of contemporary refugees is both a compelling epic and an intimate encounter with exact personal experience. She achieves what all great writing hopes to do—the restoration of humanity to those who have been deprived of it. This is a vital book for anyone who wants to feel what it means to be human in the 21st century." —Fintan OToole, author of The Politics of Pain "Kafka retold by an Irishwoman in Africa. Read this great book shedding light on a monstrous crime." —John Sweeney, host of Hunting Ghislaine with John Sweeney "My Fourth Time, We Drowned is compassionate, brave, enraging, beautifully written and incredibly well-researched. Hayden exposes the truth about years of grotesque abuse committed against some of the worlds most vulnerable people in all of our names. After this, none of us can say we didnt know." —Oliver Bullough, author of Moneyland "This is a brilliant book, powerful and emotional—Sally Hayden is a superb journalist and through her incredible courage and eye witness testimonies, paints a compelling picture of the poignant and horrific lives endured by so many refugees and migrants. A must read for anyone with a conscience." —Miriam OCallaghan, presenter for Prime Time (Ireland) Review Quote "This is a brilliant book, powerful and emotional--Sally Hayden is a superb journalist and through her incredible courage and eye witness testimonies, paints a compelling picture of the poignant and horrific lives endured by so many refugees and migrants. A must read for anyone with a conscience." --Miriam OCallaghan, presenter for Prime Time (Ireland) Excerpt from Book On Sunday, August 26, 2018, I was browsing through Netflix, in a sublet room in north London, when I received a Facebook message. "Hi sister Sally, we need your help," it read. "We are under bad condition in Libya prison. If you have time, I will tell you all the story." Of course, this did not make sense to me. How did someone thousands of miles away find my name? How did they have a working phone if they were locked up? I was skeptical, but I replied quickly to see what would come next. "Im so sorry to hear that," I wrote. "Yes, of course I have time, though unfortunately I cant do much to help." We exchanged WhatsApp numbers. The sender explained that his brother knew my journalism from Sudan, a neighboring North African country, and had traced my contact details online. He needed them because he was trapped in Ain Zara, a migrant detention center in Libyas capital, Tripoli, alongside hundreds of other refugees. Conflict had broken out around them. Smoke rose above the walls outside. They were watching the city smolder and burn. The Libyans in charge at Ain Zara, who had been abusing them for months, fled when the sounds of fighting grew nearer. It was never clear whether the guards--or the "police," as the refugees called them--left to escape or join in: many had sympathies with those fighting, while others were simply frightened or arrogant young men who signed up because they needed work, felt comfortable being armed, and had spotted the potential for extra profits through exploitation. There were still children and pregnant women inside the building. The refugee men, who had been locked in one big hall for months, broke down the separating door. They hoped the group would be safer if they were all together. "We see bullets passing over us and heavy weapons in the street," my new contact typed, before sending me photos he said were from that day. One, taken through a window, showed vehicles with anti-aircraft guns visible outside the centers gates. Another was an image of himself: an emaciated-looking 28-year-old sitting on the ground with three young children. Everyone inside the building was unarmed and defenseless: stick thin after months with maybe a meal a day, sometimes nothing. Their bodies were scarred from torture and beatings, inflicted both by the guards who had just left and the smugglers who held them for months or years before they arrived in Ain Zara. The war raging outside had been coming for a long time, and these people needed help--any help, even if it was a journalist in a faraway country with little to offer. "If there is any United Nations Refugee Agency or human rights organizations near you, contact them. Since yesterday we havent eaten any food," messaged the man. "If you have a page post something on that about this situation." He said he came from Eritrea, a repressive country in the Horn of Africa where citizens are forced into unending military service by the ruling dictatorship. He had breached two borders, survived kidnapping by traffickers, and traveled nearly 3,000 kilometers to get to Libya. Like everyone else with him, the man then tried to cross the Mediterranean Sea to reach Europe but was caught and incarcerated. Now they were in trouble. They had one phone between hundreds that the detainees had kept hidden for months. He said it was the phone a smuggler gave him to bring on board the rubber boat so they could call for rescue once it inevitably began to sink. The European Union was responsible for the situation they were now in--it was Europe that had forced them back. I spent the next twenty-four hours doing all I could to verify his story. I asked for photos of his surroundings, videos, selfies, GPS locations, and contact details for his family members. I knew people in Libya, and they confirmed there was conflict in the suburb they were in. I called him numerous times. As I requested more and more detail, the man I was speaking to told me how, before the fighting got bad, detainees had regularly been taken from the detention center and forced to work like slaves in the homes of wealthy Libyans. Women were raped, and Christians targeted for particular abuse--violently assaulted while their crucifixes were ripped from their necks. Some mornings, around 3:00 a.m., the armed Libyan guards would call hundreds of detainees out to be "counted," sadistically making them stand in the cold for hours. They probably were not aware, but this ordeal echoed Appellplatz , the early morning roll calls Nazis used to do in concentration camps--a grim ritual carried out with the aim of intimidating and humiliating prisoners. Despite the UN saying its staff had regular access to the centers, that did not seem to be true. Many detainees who had fled war or dictatorships were never even registered as refugees. That meant there was no list of their names anywhere. They were terrified of being sold back to smugglers, who torture migrants until their families pay hefty ransoms. They were begging to be saved. I had stumbled, inadvertently, on a human rights disaster of epic proportions. There were eight pregnant women and roughly twenty babies and toddlers among the Ain Zara group. As the man and I spoke on the phone, bombs exploded nearby, and I heard the sounds of shrieking. "Now everyone is disturbed, it is becoming worse and worse . . . Look at the women and children, you can post this video for the European people to know." Frantically, I searched for an answer. I contacted the UN and international aid organizations working in Libya, but they said it was too dangerous for their staff to act ("In Libya today, everybody is at risk, so not an easy situation," one aid worker responded, showing a callous pragmatism I was to encounter again and again). I emailed editors asking whether they would publish a report, but I was a freelancer, and--as often happens--replies were slow. Feeling unmoored and useless, I began to post screenshots of my messages with the refugees on Twitter, where they were quickly shared, garnering tens of thousands of views, and then hundreds of thousands. Within months, their words would reach millions. "Theres no food, no water. The children are crying. We are suffering, especially the children. We havent slept in two days. We are waiting for some miracle. Tell them the people are dying here." Time stretched out for me, with sleepless nights and nerve-racking days measured in countless moments laden with danger. I barely left the sparse room I was renting, except when I was picked up by a taxi to do TV and radio interviews after BBC producers spotted my Twitter updates. Online, there was a cascade of retweets and likes and shares, but in Ain Zara nothing changed. The refugees would turn off the phone to conserve its battery, silence suddenly interrupted by a flurry of messages at any new development. Eventually, buses arrived. Was this salvation? At first, we did not know if their drivers were Libyan authorities or smugglers (I would later learn there is not always much to distinguish the two). Armed men in uniform said they were taking the detainees to a different area, which was--at least at that moment--farther from the front line. Then, about fifty hours after I received the first message, I watched through WhatsApp as the GPS location of the mans phone edged across the city. I used it to update the refugees on where they were. "To your left, you will see the University of Tripoli," I remember typing, and they responded excitedly when they spotted its modern facade. For many of the passengers on board, this was the first time they had seen the city in daylight. The buses and their occupants reached another compound. Worried that they might have been transferred to a smugglers den, my main contact asked me if it was a detention center under the control of Libyas Tripoli-based government. I, in turn, emailed my new UN sources, who told me yes, it was. Inside, there were already around seventy other detainees who had been moved from elsewhere. Staff with the UNs International Organization for Migration--wearing fluorescent, garishly branded jackets--turned up to hand out water. Those employees would later message me, too, telling me that things were under control. Around midnight, the detained refugees were given cake and yogurt: their first food in days. "Get some sleep, it is enough for you too, you were with us the whole time," read my final messages from that night. "The guys are thanking you so much. They are saying give her some rest. May God bless you." *** What does your phone mean to you? Is it a way to chat to friends or swipe through dating apps? Do you take selfies, send voice notes or Snapchats? Is it a vital source of information? Has it saved your life? What would it represent if you were incarcerated, its little screen your only window to the outside world? What would it be like to spend months or years in the same building without one? Could you share a phone with five hundred others? Would you risk being tortured to keep it or forego eating to buy data, knowing you would starve without food but could disappear forever if you had no way of sending a distress call? What is it like to watch innocent people being shot through Facebook messenger? How would you feel listening to their faltering voices as they mentally and physically withered away? Thats what I was going to discover. Originally, I believed these first contacts in Libya were an anomaly, the isolated victims of an accidental oversight. Once these pe Details ISBN1612199453 Author Sally Hayden Publisher Melville House Publishing Language English Year 2022 ISBN-10 1612199453 ISBN-13 9781612199450 Format Hardcover Short Title My Fourth Time, We Drowned Imprint Melville House Publishing Country of Publication United States Place of Publication Brooklyn Pages 448 Publication Date 2022-03-29 AU Release Date 2022-03-29 NZ Release Date 2022-03-29 US Release Date 2022-03-29 UK Release Date 2022-03-29 Subtitle Seeking Refuge on the Worlds Deadliest Migration Route DEWEY B Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:158407831;

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