'People were dragging one another under the water'

On August 28, Europe's eyes were on the Mediterranean as eight illegal immigrants were rescued from a submerged dinghy - 70 others remain missing in one of the worst tragedies off Malta. Ariadne Massa spoke to a survivor.

Kofi Charles sits alone in a big, bare room. His arms are clasped in prayer on the table and when he looks up a tear hangs from the corner of his eye, threatening to roll down.

Outside the isolated interview room at the Safi Barracks, two burly detention guards stand in the heat, watching over the man from Ghana.

Mr Charles, 28, extends a feeble handshake as he wipes his eyes with a crumpled tissue that has absorbed so many tears it has begun to disintegrate.

The trauma of helplessly watching his 24-year-old wife drown, together with 70 other Africans, has left him so fragile that each time he tries to recollect the incident he taps his head, as if to jog his memory, and his swollen, red eyes swell with tears.

"Sometimes I hear my wife calling my name. I miss her so much. I pray to God to give me strength," he says, breaking down into wracking sobs, and turning his head away, embarrassed to be crying in front of a stranger.

Barely a week has passed since his traumatic crossing on a rubber dingy from Libya - their destination was Italy - so the vivid memories are clearly replaying in his mind.

Mr Charles is one of eight survivors rescued at sea 70 kilometres off Malta by a Maltese fishing vessel, the Madonna di Pompei. It was initially unclear how many were on board with figures ranging from 10 to 70. But Mr Charles is adamant that there were 78.

This tragedy, one of the worst of its kind recorded off Malta, prompted Pope Benedict XVI last Sunday to call for an effective political solution to deal with the human problems of illegal immigration from Africa to Europe.

"We were 78 people in the boat. We were not squashed like sardines, but the boat was still full," he says in broken English, as he recounts the story behind his journey.

Mr Charles left Ghana for Libya in late 2005 to escape the wrath of his wife's family, who were bent on converting him to Islam from Catholicism. The feud had reached a point where his brother-in-law once turned up with a machete and carved a 10-centimetre wound on his left elbow.

"The skin was flapping off the bone. We were fighting every day," he says, staring at the wide scar that looks badly stitched.

Soon after his daughter was born, his wife, fearing for his safety, encouraged him to escape, in the hope that she and her two children - now aged four and two-and-a-half - would one day join him.

He embarked on a journey to Libya, where he trained as a driver. His wife joined him nearly two years later, but left the children with his parents because she did not feel they would be safe making the journey.

His employers were underpaying him and seeing no hope of survival in Libya he sought the advice of a friend who put him in touch with a trafficker. The price was high - $1,200 per person - but Mr Charles borrowed and scrimped and got ready for the trip on August 21.

The voyage went smoothly at first, but on Monday the dinghy started taking in water. One hour before disaster struck, Mr Charles remembers kissing his wife on the cheek to put her mind at rest.

Mr Charles believes the rubber dinghy was somehow punctured and started losing air, but then he rambles on about the evil spirits that haunted their journey.

When the immigrants were in the sea, they all clamoured to survive: "The women were screaming and people were dragging one another under the water. I held my wife's hand high, but then I lost her."

"God, help me," he says, looking up at the ceiling and wiping his tear-streaked face with his T-shirt.

Mr Charles wishes he died instead of his wife, but he tries to persuade himself that God kept him alive to take care of his children.

The man's situation is a delicate one: If he is sent back to Ghana, he believes his wife's family will kill him, especially now that his wife is dead.

"My dream is that before I die I can build a few rooms for my children. I need help, please help me," he sobs, as he hobbles out to wait for the security van to take him back to his quarters.

As he waits, the detention guard, visibly moved by the man's predicament, asks him if he would rather wait seated in the cool room. But Mr Charles shakes his head, sniffles and focuses on the horizon, afraid of what his uncertain future has in store. "My life is dangerous now," he says.