Italy's anti-migrant rhetoric does nothing to stem the tide of arrivals

On the arid, windswept speck of an island that is Lampedusa — Italian territory that's closer to North Africa than Sicily — the same human drama has been playing out for more than a decade now.

Small, battered boats overloaded with exhausted human cargo arrive in port. Those who stumble off, thirsty and dazed, are taken to a dusty "hot spot" at the end of a road out of town.

If their numbers are low enough — the reception centre is equipped to take in 400 people — the migrants are given basics: water, food, shelter, clothing. 

This week, though, upwards of 8,000 people arrived — more people than live on the island. The migrants, children and many teenage boys among them, were forced to sleep curbside and turn to the local church or charitable local restaurants for bread, a dish of pasta and water.

Almost 130,000 people have crossed the Mediterranean on boats to Italy so far this year. That's more than double the number of people in the same period last year. If the pace keeps up, it could turn into a record year of crossings.

For most who arrive, Lampedusa marks the end of a terrifying journey; it's also the start of a long, long wait for the better life they're seeking.

For a small group from Sierra Leone, in West Africa, that wait began on Friday under a blazing morning sun, as they stood with hundreds of others, set to board buses to take them to port, and then on a ship to mainland Italy. 

"When you make this type of trip, you take a risk," said Turay, a tall, slim engineering student who carefully enunciated each word. He said his father was killed in sectarian violence back home and that he wants to finish his studies in Europe so he can support his family.

"There are many days in the desert, helter skelter, police who take your money, take your phones, everything in your hands," Turay said.

His friends Momeal, 29, Sia, 23, and her 10-year-old daughter Aisha — who had a bold smile and neat pleats — sat on the curb beside him, listening and sometimes interjecting.

"They raped the ladies," said Momeal, who crossed with the others in a small boat with 40 people from Sfax, Tunisia.

"The Arab people, the mafias, the gangsters," added Turay.

Momeal said she and her sister knew the danger of the journey to Europe — the days it would take to cross the desert, the likelihood of sexual violence — but decided to risk to it in order to escape abusive marriages.

"They forced me to marry and every day, problems, fights, beatings," said Momeal.