Patrice, 17, is proud to present the apartment where he has been placed, in Paris's 19th arrondissement: "Here's the room of a Malian, that one belongs to an Ivorian and here is my room." The Cameroonian teenager, who, like all the other minors interviewed, decided not to give his full name, showed an orderly room with basic decoration. On his uncluttered desk was a burgundy folder. Inside was a packet of antidepressants. "The psychiatrist prescribed them for me."
Training to be a carpenter, Patrice made many stops before arriving in Paris. When he left Cameroon, it was for one person: his ailing mother. "She was selling doughnuts on the street, and she was being poisoned by the fumes," recounted this unaccompanied minor (MNA) who arrived in France in May 2022. In Douala, Cameroon's economic capital, his father used to run the household at arm's length. "He died three years ago due to a stomach illness." Patrice had been earning a little money to feed his mother and twin brother: He carried customers' bags to supermarkets for a handful of CFA francs. Insufficient funds encouraged him to cross the border without telling his family.
"My mother would never have accepted my leaving," said Patrice. He had first considered staying in Nigeria, but he left after two days and started walking to Europe: through Niger, Algeria and then Libya. Sitting on his bed, the young man recounted his ordeal in Tripoli: there he was made a slave and imprisoned twice. "These things are too painful, I can't tell my mother. It would kill her." The day before, Patrice had sent her money again: "My teacher advises me to keep it all, but I don't want to. It doesn't matter if I don't eat." He is determined his mother will know nothing about the vulnerability he's experiencing in Paris. "Here, it's worse than Libya. When you arrive in France, you think the nightmare is over, but it isn't."
Arriving in the French capital, Patrice was assessed by the local administration, which refused to take him into care on the grounds that they decided the young man was not a minor. Destitute, Patrice lived for several months in the Bois de Vincennes public park, while appealing to the juvenile court. In October 2022, he was placed in the care of the child welfare agency (ASE). First in a hotel in Châtillon, a suburb of Paris, then in this apartment, in September 2023.
It's a journey similar to that of the vast majority of unaccompanied minors. While waiting for a date for a hearing to recognize their minority, and therefore be taken into care by the ASE, they're subject to vulnerability and rough sleeping. "I lied to my family because the truth was too hard. I used to say that I had enough to eat and that I was sleeping in a bed," recalled Thierno (first name changed), 17, now placed in an ASE home in Yvelines.
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