# Stories of Migrant Smuggling: The Soft Power of Djiboutian Smugglers [English Version]

## Alexandre Lauret

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Alexandre Lauret. Stories of Migrant Smuggling: The Soft Power of Djiboutian Smugglers [English Version]. Revue Européenne des Migrations Internationales, 2023, Les intermédiaires de la migration, 39 (4), pp.26138. 10.4000/12lld. hal-05080095

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# Stories of migrant trafficking: The soft power of Djiboutian smugglers

Alexandre Lauret, Alexandra Poméon O'Neill, Katherine Booth

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# Stories of Migrant Smuggling: The Soft Power of Djiboutian Smugglers

*Histoires et récits du trafic de migrants : le soft power des passeurs djiboutiens*
*Historias y relatos del tráfico de migrantes: el poder blando de los traficantes de Djibouti*

## Alexandre Lauret

Translator: Alexandra Poméon O'Neill and Katherine Booth

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URL: https://journals.openedition.org/remi/26138
DOI: 10.4000/12lld
ISSN: 1777-5418

**This article is a translation of:**

Histoires et récits du trafic de migrants : le soft power des passeurs djiboutiens - URL : https://journals.openedition.org/remi/24419 [fr]

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Université de Poitiers

**Printed version**

Date of publication: December 31, 2023
ISBN: 978-23-81940-25-0
ISSN: 0765-0752

**Electronic reference**

Alexandre Lauret, "Stories of Migrant Smuggling: The Soft Power of Djiboutian Smugglers", *Revue européenne des migrations internationales* [Online], vol. 39 - n°4 | 2023, Online since 01 September 2024, connection on 31 October 2024. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/remi/26138; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/12lld

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# Stories of Migrant Smuggling: The Soft Power of Djiboutian Smugglers

Histoires et récits du trafic de migrants : le soft power des passeurs djiboutiens
Historias y relatos del tráfico de migrantes: el poder blando de los traficantes de Djibouti

Alexandre Lauret

Translation : Alexandra Poméon O'Neill and Katherine Booth

1. People migrating from sub-Saharan Africa are increasingly being described as a new type of adventurer (Pian, 2009; Bredeloup, 2008 and 2021). To reach Europe, they cross numerous countries, vast stretches of territory of several thousand kilometres and landscapes with extreme living conditions, the desert or the sea on makeshift boats. Some die during their journey or decide to end their adventure along the way, in the Sahel or North Africa. Others make it as far as Europe. In these cases, they are perceived as new figures of social success in their countries of origin (Grysole and Bonnet, 2020). So, when these adventurers return, they are celebrated as the new heroes through festivities and stories about their exploits and cunning in confronting “Fortress Europe” (Bredeloup, 2021). In addition to the experience gained, access to certain items of property (house, car, etc.) or even dual nationality are ways of ensuring the lasting success of their returns (Mary, 2020; Bréant, 2020). Yet, these success stories often overlook a key actor: smugglers. Are they also adventurers? Just like migrants, they rub shoulders with danger, flouting state borders and regulations. Can they rightly be described as adventurers, as some authors described the figure of migrant?

2. This article analyses the imaginaries and discourses of success surrounding the figure of smuggler. This immediately reveals a discrepancy between the failure to take account of locally produced narratives—in the societies to which the smugglers belong —and the high level of media coverage of this figure in Western Europe. The migratory situation in the Mediterranean throughout the 2010s helped to spread a negative image of smugglers,¹ which was at that time associated with Libyan traffickers and torturers
(Dubuis, 2018; Sanchez, 2017). Smugglers were no longer considered to be those facilitating crossings, but rather those exploiting migrants. This image was reinforced by the politicisation of migration issues between Africa and the European Union (Brachet, 2018). Irregular migration, commonly practised in the Sahel and Sahara regions, thus became migrant smuggling in the light of these new political challenges of the 21st century. Advertising campaigns have been funded by various international donors in migrants' societies of origin and transit, warning against the dangers of using smugglers and, more generally, of attempting to migrate (Brachet, 2018). Yet, there are stories produced locally, both by smugglers and by those who come into contact with them every day. How does local society view these smugglers? How are they perceived locally? And which discourses emanate from smuggling of migrants?

To answer these questions, the article focuses on the production of stories in a specific case, that of the Djiboutian smugglers² and, more specifically, the Afar community in northern Djibouti. Since 2007, this region has been the main stop-off point on the migration route linking Ethiopia to the Arabian Peninsula (see Map 1). A transnational network of smugglers has developed in the four states—Ethiopia, Djibouti, Yemen and Saudi Arabia—contributing to an increase in the number of crossings (Lauret, 2022a). According to United Nations figures, more than one million migrants crossed the Bab el-Mandeb Strait in 2010. Despite the ban on migrant smuggling in Djibouti,³ the number of smugglers is thought to have risen from a few dozen in 2007 to several hundred in 2015, all categories combined (hosts, transporters, etc.) (Lauret, 2022a). Smuggling therefore seems to have become a route to social success in northern Djibouti.

Since the 1990s, the classic success story of the intellectual or civil servant has given way to new success stories based on individual entrepreneurship, migration and the deployment of a moral economy founded on cunning and scams (Banégas and Warnier, 2001). Whether it is the “scams” perpetrated by feymen in Cameroon (Malaquais, 2001), by brouteurs in West Africa⁴ (Hanafi, 2020) or the “coolitude”⁵ of young “women of the night”, also known as adventurers of Dakar’s nightlife (Fouquet, 2013), these figures stand out due to their media coverage among young people. The stories told about them highlight their personal and economic exploits and celebrations, but also their acts of kindness and redistribution. These accounts encourage the younger generation to take up these new career choices. At first glance, becoming a smuggler seems very different from online scams, as the activity is more dangerous and subject to serious legal sanctions. However, we hypothesise that stories of smugglers’ exploits have the same effect on the young Afar generation in Djibouti as those of the other success stories mentioned above. Thus, the appeal of the career depends on the staging of these men’s exploits. To respond to this hypothesis, this article first presents the methodology used to collect the stories, before presenting a corpus of three stories of smugglers. This corpus is then used to analyse the way in which the role of the smugglers is promoted: they are no longer so much criminals as protest figures, or even entrepreneurs of illicit activities. Finally, we look at the impact of these stories on reality, particularly through the development of smuggling networks.
<figure><img src="image_6.png" /><figcaption>Map 1: Migrant Smuggling in Djibouti (2018)</figcaption></figure>

Credit: Background map: topographic-map.com; Design and production: A. Lauret, 2022 (created with Affinity Designer).

Source: Field survey, A. Lauret, 2007-2020.

Methodological Reflections on Orality in Illicit Areas

5

These empirical data are the result of research for my thesis on migrant smuggling in Djibouti. To obtain them, I made several field trips between 2018 and 2021 to the towns of Tadjoura and Obock, the two main Djiboutian stopovers on the migration route between Ethiopia and Yemen. By being embedded among the smugglers, I was able to gather many stories. It is not so much the observation of smuggling that is of interest here, but rather the stories told and the mechanisms of sociability that develop around them. Observation reveals experience, while expression enables us to understand the impact of these stories. There are two types of stories. Some emanate from the smugglers themselves. In this case, the person telling the story is the person who experienced the events. Stories can also be told by others, by local people who have heard them and who, in turn, recount the events.

6

Migrant smuggling is a business that generates many adventures and stories to be told. Smugglers, alone or in groups, face a multitude of dangers. Most of the activity takes place at night, and they have to transport convoys of migrants along a winding, risky route, while taking care not to be caught by the Djibouti police or gendarmerie. When they are detected, transporting migrants turns into a chase. Smugglers have to use cunning to escape, even if it means abandoning the convoy they are transporting. Interactions with other networks of smugglers in Tadjoura and Obock often result in clashes and settling of scores, due to the economic competition between them. All these
stories could remain within the private circle of smugglers to avoid exposing the secrets of an illicit activity. But this is not the case, and they are told within the various social circles of family, friends and local residents.

7 The transmission of these stories can only take place with a degree of discretion, which may seem paradoxical given that the aim is to showcase the smuggler. In this respect, the context of migrant smuggling differs from the other classic forms of socio-economic success mentioned above. Indeed, the success of migrants’ return to their native country or that of the moral economies of scams (feymen, etc.) is based on two elements: on the one hand, access to material culture,⁶ visible signs of success, and, on the other hand, strong mediation of individuals by displaying them in major urban places (restaurants, etc.), in the media and more recently on social networks. While some network bosses adopt the codes of material culture by building a house or buying a vehicle which, depending on its model, can be used to transport migrants, media exposure of their actions remains discreet in order to avoid the risk of arrest and court conviction. The stories of smugglers are shared mainly through oral transmission, which is known to have an evolving, flexible materiality. Stories are not fixed in time; they change according to the person telling them, their memory and the audience present. Some storytellers embellish parts of the story, others erase painful situations and humiliating scenes — unless this can later show the strengths of the main protagonist. In any case, it is difficult to trace the changes and variations that these stories have undergone from version to version (Scott, 2019: 424).

8 The symbolic materiality of these accounts suggests how the smugglers—or those close to them—perceive themselves and can use these stories to stir up emotions and gain acceptance for smuggling within certain sections or categories of local society. By symbolic materiality, we mean thinking about how oral, emotional elements like these stories, all linked to an ephemeral condition in time, can influence reality (Lauret, 2022a). As a material, orality can be modulated and transformed depending on the actors present and the objectives pursued. These stories are therefore at the heart of power relations that have a performative dimension on society and on the perception of smugglers, particularly by younger people. The three stories below provide a better understanding of the symbolism of smugglers in northern Djibouti.

## Three Laudatory Stories about Smugglers

9 From among the corpus of stories collected, three are presented in this article. Each offers a different view, while at the same time praising the actions of the smuggler. We might begin by questioning the veracity of the events described. Did they really happen? Have they been exaggerated? Ultimately, this is not the most important issue, since the imaginary always produces the real (Godelier, 2015). Rather, what matters here is the symbolic significance of these stories and what they teach us about both transmission and the image of the smuggler. The first story tells of an act of kindness by a smuggler towards a migrant. The second depicts the humour and mockery of a smuggler confronting the Djibouti state. Finally, the last story recounts the bravura and courage of a smuggler who travels to Yemen to settle a dispute.
## Story 1: The Kindness of the Smuggler

10 The first story focuses on the generosity of the smuggler. It was told by the protagonist himself, in Tadjoura, in the spring of 2018, but the events described took place in 2013, when the man was running his own smuggling network. This temporal detail is not insignificant, because by 2018, this person had not been a smuggler for several years. He changed job for one that he considers “emotionally” less demanding. In this particular story, the smuggler meets an Ethiopian migrant trying to join his wife, who has already gone to Saudi Arabia. The migrant fails several times, at which point the smuggler steps in to help him.

> "I remember one time, there was an Ethiopian woman who had gone to Saudi Arabia; she'd been working there for a while. I was the one who got her across, and one day her husband wanted to join her. He took the road to Tadjoura but he didn't have enough money to continue his journey. So, he started working in a small shop, a place where you can make phone calls [phone booth]. The problem, you see, was that the guy was earning 6,000 Djibouti francs (30 euros) but at the same time he was spending more than 12,000 (60 euros) to call his wife. He continued like that for several months, but then he was fired. I saw the guy wandering around town, sometimes crying, so I went to talk to him. [...] I saw that he was genuinely in love, he really wanted to join his wife over there. He told me their whole story, they both came from Wello I think, they wanted to migrate together to Arabia to earn money, but they didn't have enough to travel together. The man said that he'd find her there, and he'd sort something out. It didn't work, and he was stuck for several months. I decided to help him, I couldn't just stand there and go home as if everything was normal. I'm an upfront person, I'm not here to rip people off, and in this business you need to know how to lie, which I don't. We used to make a lot of money in this business. You don't live alone, you live around people who have nothing, so you give a little. I paid off the guy's debts at the shop, I gave him a free crossing, I gave money to the other smugglers so that he could get to Yemen without any problems and all that. I don't know where the guy is now, but I hope he's been able to find his wife."

11 The story depicts a connection between the smuggler and the migrant, based on the latter's tribulations. The migrant tries to pay for the crossing to the Arabian Peninsula, but is unable to do so, representing precariousness taken to its extreme. Conversely, the smuggler is seen here as a generous figure, disconnected from money, far removed from the negative image that the media—or the Djibouti gendarmerie—have of him. This man is touched both by the love story and by the migrant's distress. He takes the time to listen—a rare occurrence in the context of migrant smuggling, where convoys follow one another nightly at a gruelling pace. It is the portrayal of a good man, close to a fellow human, who decides to put the profitability of his business aside in order to help him. The end of the story incorporates a philanthropic dimension, i.e. a willingness to give and expect nothing in return.

12 The generosity described here echoes the way in which the smuggler tells his (own) story. He does not tell his story at random, in the street or in a café. There is whole ceremony, a khat session during which the story is put forward. Societies in the Horn of Africa and Yemen like to hold sessions where men, mostly, get together to chew khat leaves.⁷ This is a common ritual, so the smuggler recounts his adventures to an audience of close relations. They may be members of his family, his network, friends and acquaintances from the neighbourhood. During this event, it is often the case that the smuggler—if he is a network leader—offers bundles of khat to those present. Generosity is expressed as much in the reality of giving khat to the audience as in the symbolism of the story.
13

These acts of generosity are not limited to khat sessions. The various networks of smugglers in Tadjoura and Obock have a policy of making donations of varying amounts, depending on the profits they make. These range from simple daily distributions of khat to the most disadvantaged people, to larger sums to pay for university fees or medical operations, or “donations” to the public authorities present. Of course, these donations depend above all on the sociability of each network and each individual’s own custom of redistributing profits. This policy of donations thus plays a part in acceptance of the activity by the population, with smugglers managing their reputation and good name. Managing reputation is an intense social task, but one that is nonetheless essential, given that the discourses and labels that distinguish the criminal from the benefactor, the acceptable from the unacceptable, constantly intersect in the course of these careers in illicit activities (Michelutti and Picherit, 2021). As a result, generosity takes place at three levels: in public life, in the spectacle of the khat sessions, and symbolically in connection with the story told. In turn, beneficiaries and audience members will spread the story while attesting to the man’s generosity.

## Story 2: The Mockery of the Smuggler

14

The second story refers to the mockery of the smuggler. It was told one morning in a café in Djibouti City in 2018, by a Djiboutian civil servant as he was eating his breakfast. The setting immediately prompts three observations. Firstly, the account is not told by a smuggler, but by a government official, who is supposed to “criminalise” smugglers in his statements. But this is not the case in the story presented below. Secondly, this is not a khat session where the boss has to display his generosity. The civil servant has nothing to gain by telling this story. Thirdly, the story has been taken out of its territorial, ethnic and political context. While migrant smuggling takes place mainly in northern Djibouti, far from the capital, it may seem surprising to hear this story in the very heart of the city. The logic of transmission and the objectives of the narrator are very different from those of the previous story. The civil servant tells the story of a smuggler who wants to get his car back after it has been confiscated by the gendarmerie.

> "A few years ago, there was a smuggler who drove migrants by night to Lake Assal. He was pursued by the gendarmerie. He stopped and ran off into the bush. He went into hiding. The car was taken to the unit. After several weeks, maybe a month, I don't know, the smuggler went to see the General in Djibouti City to pick up his car. He went into the office [...]. The officer said to him: 'So you're the smuggler! You've come to collect your car? Aren't you afraid to come here, to my office?' The smuggler replied: 'General, the Issas [Issas-Somalis, the majority ethnic group in Djibouti] have Djib-live,⁸ we Afars have Djib-Clandestins,⁹ to each their own business, we'll all be happy.' The officer burst out laughing, telling him that he'd give the car back to him without any problem, just for the joke. And the smuggler got the car back! The next day, he was already transporting migrants!"¹⁰

15

This second story depicts the smuggler as a daring figure, showing his nerve. The young smuggler is self-confident, embodying the image of a man who is not afraid, defying the authority of the state. Indeed, it is surprising that the smuggler decided to go to Djibouti City, to the office of a high-ranking officer, when he could have settled the matter with the local gendarmerie by offering various bribes. However, the events recounted here are a pretext for criticising not smuggling, but the state. The story uses humour and satire to mock Djiboutian society, the government and its political system
built on ethnic differentiation. The story effectively exposes a truth known to everyone in Djibouti: the ethnic fact. This relates to the seizure of power and the state by a Somali clan community, the Mamasan. The smuggler is not seen here as the legal enemy, but rather as the person who perpetuates this ethnic political system while playing on it by using it in his own way.

16 This figure of the smuggler embodies a political counter-power through the potential for mockery contained in certain stories. For example, in one story told in a café, the smuggler flees, making a mockery of the gendarmes, who drive around in circles all night trying to find him in the vastness of the desert. In another story heard in Tadjoura, the smuggler hides some migrants in the house of a Member of Parliament, making him believe that they are domestic servants. The politician is so busy that he fails to notice that his servants look different almost every day. In a third story, a political candidate asks a smuggler friend to fill the stands of the Obock stadium for a campaign meeting of the Popular Rally for Progress (the party in power since independence in 1977), where there is a risk that the stadium will appear empty on television. The smuggler decides to fill the stadium with “his” migrants, dressing them in the party colours and making them applaud every time the candidate speaks.

17 In many respects, smugglers embody a figure already familiar from other cultural contexts (theatrical, narrative, artistic) built on tragicomedy and satire, enabling criticism of a political order or an elite. Indeed, these various stories turn the smuggler into a satirical character from local folklore, contributing to the construction of popular mythology centred on disobedience (Hastings, 2022), where comic characters —like those in Albert Cossery’s novels or *The Fortunes of Wangrin* (Hampâté Ba, 1992)— stand out by virtue of their ability not to overthrow power, but to consolidate it in an absurd and burlesque vision. The position of the interpreter, Wangrin, in the novel of the same name, illustrates the hero’s tricks, aimed at getting the better of both customary and colonial authorities. In the case of the smugglers who operate outside the law, their actions are a means of criticising Djiboutian society and the practices of those in power. In an authoritarian regime, the smuggler has become, whether he likes it or not, a form of protest through the stories he tells. But only if these stories are told outside of the inner circle, which is not always the case.

## Story 3: The Bravura of the Smuggler

18 This third story highlights the bravura and courage of the smuggler in the face of adversity. Taking advantage of the absence of the network boss for a few hours, his henchman tells a few anecdotes during an impromptu khat session in an alleyway in Tadjoura. It is an evening in 2019, and in addition to the two of us, several of the henchman’s friends are present, most of them young school dropouts, some of whom will later want to join the network. So, this story is as much about impressing the researcher as it is about promoting a career in smuggling to young people. The man relates how his boss won respect from his competitors, Djiboutian and Yemeni smugglers.

“We came looking for him because we needed his help. He [the boss] is highly respected here... even his enemies [competitors], even former smugglers respect him. He stood up to everyone, first the elders and then those from Yemen who didn’t want to accept the terms of the contract. I remember one day, the guys [the smugglers] in Yemen had caught one of our guys [an Afar man]. They thought he was an Ethiopian migrant and asked him to pay for
passage, but as he didn't have any money, they started torturing him. We heard about it here, in Tadjoura, and all the smugglers got together. [My boss], who wasn't a boss yet, spoke to the elders and told them: 'Nobody should be allowed to touch one of our people, we have to strike back! I'm going over there to negotiate. I'm going to explain to them that this isn't the way to do things!' He did it, the elders listened to him, they said he was right. So he went to Yemen with a friend, not many of them wanted to go with him, because of the political problems in Yemen, they preferred to stay here and chew khat, waiting for the migrants. He went to talk to the Yemenis. They had weapons, he didn't. They were at home, he wasn't. They were all together, he was on his own with a friend. He told them 'If you harm the Afar, we'll stop everything. We'll stop all the migrant convoys, you'll get nothing more.' No more migrants, no more money. The Yemenis immediately apologised, they took the Afar man and treated him very well, they gave him money, new clothes, they drove him to Saudi Arabia. All of this was thanks to my boss. He was the only one who had the courage to go to Yemen to talk face to face with the Yemenis who had weapons. They could have killed him, you know? But no, he spoke to them, he explained the important rule: you don't touch the Afars. He spoke to them from the heart, he told them that an Afar would never touch a Yemeni, it had to be the same for them. They agreed. When he came back, everyone respected him, he had become somebody."

19 This story is based on real events: an Afar man did indeed cross into Yemen illegally to try his luck in Saudi Arabia. He was captured by Yemeni smugglers, who tortured him to force him to pay the price of passage. The smugglers from Tadjoura and Obock were well aware of this, and they got together and united around the same argument addressed to the Yemenis: if you don't free the Afar man, we will prevent the next convoys of migrants from passing through. The Afar man was released, treated well and then taken to Saudi Arabia. Nevertheless, it is interesting to note that several influential smugglers have taken credit for the rescue in Yemen. So, there are different versions of the rescue, depending on who is telling the story and how close they are to a particular smuggler. This version is one of the most dubious, yet it had a strong impact on the youth present.

20 The story is about a journey to Yemen that is a sort of rite of passage, turning the man into an important smuggler, someone who is respected for his bravura and courage. Courage is shown in different ways throughout the story. First, there is the refusal to abandon an Afar man to his fate; second, the desire to save him by setting off for a country in political turmoil—the events took place at the turn of 2013-2014, when Yemen was experiencing growing instability leading up to the outbreak of the civil war in September 2014; and third, a dangerous situation in which the smuggler finds himself unarmed confronting armed men. Despite this power imbalance, he manages to impose his point of view, obtain the release of his compatriot and return home as a success. The journey therefore appears to be a way of gaining a certain power, "deserved power", based on personal exploits that showcase a limited number of actors (Godelier, 2009: 131). This is where the value of oral narratives lies, in their contribution to the selection and formation of these new powers by highlighting certain smugglers, even though they come from disadvantaged backgrounds. In other words, the story told serves above all as a critique of a fixed social order ("inherited power", in Godelier's words), while offering young school dropouts a chance to dream of a better future. Migrant smuggling is not merely an economic activity; it enables some of the protagonists to become entrepreneurs and build a career, to gain a certain status and the power that goes with it.

21 The situation is made more interesting by the fact that the boss in question was not present to confirm or deny the story. He would return later in the evening, but he
would pay no attention to how the new recruits perceived him. On the other hand, there is a symbolic connection between the boss and the henchman, with the henchman appropriating a sort of tributary of deserved power. The man confirms it: he may not have been present in Yemen, but he is appropriating the story in the name of the network and its reputation within the smuggling community. A network of smugglers is much more than a simple illicit business; it embodies an organisation through which other legitimacies are constructed, often setting up the illusion and reputation of a second family and its charismatic members. The man who tells the story updates his status based on “acting the boss”—literally, “bossing” (Michelutti et al., 2018). In other words, this story and the presence of potential recruits have as much impact on the power of persuasion as on the sovereignty of the henchman recounting the story.

22

These three stories paint a picture of what an Afar smuggler can represent for a section of Djiboutian society, a valued protagonist. It is a character combining different qualities: kindness and generosity, humour and cunning, bravura and courage. Each of these accounts embodies a story prototype, depending on the person telling the story and the objective pursued. First there is the smuggler who shows off to the researcher, then the civil servant who appropriates the character to make a mockery of the state to which he belongs and thus appear potentially “cool”, and finally the henchman who enlists his next recruits and becomes their mentor. These symbolic materialities therefore influence reality and the possibilities of doing or becoming, particularly in a tense socio-political context between marginalisation and entrepreneurship in illicit activities.

## The Smuggler at the Centre of Djibouti's Political Theatre

23

These stories, which humanise the protagonists involved in criminal activity, can be enjoyable to listen to—or to read—because they draw on certain theatricalities or narrativities while also having the potential to be satirical or critical. We can see that the figure of the smuggler goes beyond the simple framework of migrant smuggling or illicit activity. These stories are set in the context of an authoritarian regime that monopolises state rents and marginalises a section of the population, and they therefore have strong political, symbolic and critical potential in relation to this central power. This section looks at how these symbolic materialities shape a new image of the smuggler. The figure is no longer so much that of a criminal actor, but rather that of an entrepreneur on the fringes, in other words a figure who is extremely popular among the most precarious classes. After outlining the political context in Djibouti, the aim is to understand how this figure embodies this attractive form of protest among the most disadvantaged.

## Those Excluded from the Distribution of State Rents: Performative Spectators

24

Since independence in 1977, the Republic of Djibouti has been a rentier state owing to its unique geopolitical situation. The micro-state is located at the southern gateway to the Red Sea—the Bab el-Mandeb strait—at the heart of a region beset by growing
instability (Somalia, Yemen, Ethiopia, Eritrea). Successive governments have taken
advantage of this situation to develop two economic rents from which more than 40%
of GDP is derived: port activity and the leasing of military land to foreign powers. The
central power thus relies on this state rent for its survival, leading to a division
between those who have access to the rent and those who are excluded.

Djibouti's colonial and then independent political history revolves around the exploitation of the ethnic fact. Djiboutian society is divided into two population groups, the Somalis in the south and the Afars in the west and north. The latter are in the minority—almost 30% of the population—but some Afar leaders acted as intermediaries between the French colonial powers and the colonised population. This was particularly the case during the two referendums on self-determination (1958 and 1967), when the Afar population voted overwhelmingly to keep the territory within the French union. This instrumentalisation gave way at independence to an equally instrumentalised system, this time favouring the Somalis. The capture of state rents by certain Somali clans from 1977 onwards led to the political and economic marginalisation of Djibouti's Afar population. This situation led to the civil war in Djibouti (1991-1994), when a group of Afar rebels, the Front for the Restoration of Unity and Democracy (FRUD), confronted the Djiboutian government. Although peace was agreed in 1994, a majority of the Afar population consider that the Djibouti government has not kept its promises to share and decentralise political powers, as promised under the peace agreements. It was in this political context that migrant smuggling emerged in the north of Djibouti in the 21st century. Thus, there appears to be a shift in interpretation, making migrant smuggling not just an illicit economic activity but also a potentially political activity, revealing the processes of marginalisation suffered by the smugglers, and reinterpreted by them.

This political discourse of dissent has become a common language of protest among the Afar of Djibouti. However, not all Afar share this laudatory view of the smugglers, and not all of them can be said to be excluded from the distribution of state rents (Dahou, 2015). While the leadership of the political structure of the state is monopolised by one of the Somali clans, the Mamasan, the latter operate an ethnic policy of Djiboutian citizenship based on the demographics of the different groups to determine appointments to parliamentary and ministerial posts, the majority of which are ceremonial. The figure of the smuggler is therefore becoming more popular in the Afar societies of Tadjoura and Obock, particularly among the most precarious classes. These include the unemployed or those with a profession that is socially regarded as low status, such as fishing, and people living in villages located on the migration route whose economic opportunities are often non-existent. The figure of the smuggler is also popular with the younger generation, those still at school or those who have dropped out, and those who have graduated from university but are not lucky enough to come from a good family background or to have a good network to find a job that matches their qualifications. These different profiles all have in common a political disillusionment with the Djiboutian elite and a certain experience of declining social status, or even poverty.

This feeling of marginality predisposes those excluded from sharing in the state's rent to see these stories of smugglers as more than mere anecdotes. This audience is always ready to appreciate real or fictional discourse about social injustice and the forms of revenge it produces. At the same time, these people are not mere spectators of these
tales of smuggling. In many ways, they are “emancipated spectators” (Rancière, 2008) in a theatre without spectators, a performative space in which the distinction between spectator, actor and stage is blurred, leading us to observe hybridisations (Kaur and Hansen, 2016).¹¹ These people who are excluded from the distribution of the rent therefore have a performative dimension, firstly in terms of the evolution of the perception and the symbolisation of the smuggler in terms of his acceptance in society, and secondly in relation to their own future in the decision of some of them to join a network. In other words, these stories of smuggling have consequences for the way in which people perceive the smugglers, ultimately leading to the observation of processes of empathy and indulgence towards them, but local proximity, even friendship, also raises questions about the forms of freedom and alienation in the construction of judgements and these new discourses.

28

The stories produced and disseminated become, as it were, the tool and vehicle through which a desire for justice emerges among the most marginalised social classes. However, this justice remains symbolic in the sense that it does not necessarily change the already established balance of power, or the socio-economic status of these spectators—in the case of those who do not join a network. It is above all a fantasised and chimerical justice, whose repercussions affect the symbolism of attraction. Indeed, while the smugglers are well aware of this situation, they do not hesitate to play it up in order to elicit more empathy from those excluded from the rents. Here we can see the appeal of the figure of the bandit caught between fiction, myth and reality, with these three dimensions merging around powerful fictional realities that surround this type of character (Michelutti and Picherit, 2021). The smuggler thus becomes a figure in a form of folklore of social justice.

## When the Smuggler Engages in Social Neo-banditry

29

The three stories transcribed above produce a common discourse around a praiseworthy image of the smuggler. He may be an outlaw, but he is nonetheless a figure who is popular with the marginalised. The accounts produce a constant complexity between, on the one hand, generosity, cunning, bravura, justice and economic success and, on the other, criminality and the development of an activity based on the exploitation of a migrant population that is even more precarious and considered “clandestine” by the local population. This situation between the licit and the illicit leads to an observation of the case of Djibouti’s smugglers as the emergence of new entrepreneurs in illicit activity.

30

These smugglers are part of a new class of African criminality based on a dual relationship combining support obtained by a fringe of the population at local level and protest or struggle against a central power that is often affiliated to the state and the capital. This is the case of the highway bandits in the regions south of Lake Chad (Issa, 2004), certain forms of Somali piracy in Puntland (Gascon, 2009; Guiziou, 2018), the *brouteurs* referred to above in West Africa and various smugglers of goods in the Sahel (Scheele, 2012). Although these figures operate in different contexts, together they form a social neo-banditry (Hobsbawm, 2008) characterised both by the integration of local economies at regional or global level and by disillusionment with the classic model of the state and a political elite that holds on to power. While contemporary African societies are evolving in the heart of globalised issues, certain actors are
excluded from redistribution mechanisms. They will therefore tend to see these new
figures as counter-powers close to the people—even though this is not necessarily the
case.

31 The media coverage of socio-economic injustices and the responses to them offered by these new entrepreneurs in illicit activity mean that they have the support of the general public. In fact, the media success of their adventures is based on the mechanisms of potential identification and affiliation with the characters in these stories. Firstly, there is the determination shown by these entrepreneurs to position their actions on a political and social level in contexts where power and wealth are confiscated. Scams against the state or a minister are appreciated, as they are part of a process of social revenge and popular justice (Malaquais, 2001). These stories also convey codes of good conduct through the transmission of certain values. They emphasise sharing, giving, intelligence and courage, painting a picture of the ideal type of hero, in this case for a young Afar man. In other words, diversion by way of illicit activity and the figure of the smuggler seem to be used, paradoxically, to reaffirm certain values in societies that are undergoing radical change as a result of globalisation, new technologies and a large-scale movement towards a more sedentary lifestyle.¹² Lastly, these stories illustrate both the appeal and accessibility of these careers in illicit activity. The figures portrayed started from nothing, developed their business and now have varying degrees of wealth. They embody popular success stories where anyone can succeed. Thus, the first Djiboutian smugglers were people with low social status living on the fringes of public life, the last nomads or fishermen, some of the lowest social classes at the beginning of the 21st century (Lauret, 2018). The media success of these stories is therefore based on the possibility of the audience making the anecdotes and stories told their own. Media coverage therefore goes hand in hand with the possibility of embracing such a career.

The New Entrepreneurs in Illicit Activity: Recruitment
and Power within Networks

32 This final section looks at the impact of these stories on smuggling, on the audience and on the recruitment of members of audience into the various networks of smugglers. While not every spectator becomes a smuggler, it is among the most precarious people (the unemployed, those on the margins of society, young people at high school or who have already dropped out of school) that these stories have the greatest impact in terms of life and career choices. How and when do spectators decide to become actors? The production of stories about smugglers offers some pointers on this subject. These recruitments then highlight two observations: on the one hand, the consolidation and reproduction of power within the networks and, on the other, the existence of a collective memory of smuggling.

When Spectators Become Actors: the Networks’ Need for Labour

33 A network of smugglers operates according to a simple hierarchy. First there is the network's boss and managers, who are in direct communication with the various migration intermediaries in Ethiopia and Yemen. These people supervise the network's communications and ensure the safety of the convoys being transported. Although the
first smugglers were field workers, their seniority and the structural development of the networks mean that they are increasingly shielded from any risk. Then there are the people whose job it is to transport the migrants from one stopping place to another, driving the vehicles or guiding the migrants on foot. These smugglers are recruited for their skills and driving abilities. They are supposed to be experienced, as they perform the most dangerous tasks. They are therefore the most likely to experience the adventures that will later become the stories told. There is also a whole group of people who gravitate in and around the networks, whose task is to respond to specific needs, such as positioning themselves in front of the gendarmerie or the police to keep an eye on their nocturnal activity, in exchange for a few thousand Djibouti francs or a couple of bundles of khat. They then phone their superiors when a law enforcement vehicle goes out at night. Finally, the networks have a number of affiliates, who are especially useful when it comes to fighting. These "soldiers"— henchmen—ensure the security of convoys against other networks. They constantly hover around the network managers in exchange for khat, received daily.

When there is a clash, the number of “soldiers” affiliated to a network doubles or even triples, depending on the number of supporters, people close to the network or people seduced by the boss’s charisma. For this, the networks rely heavily on those excluded from state rents, in other words, people who are available for jobs that require little or no qualification. This permanent need for labour relies on the availability (Rechtman, 2020) of people who do not necessarily have the most motivation or the most critical discourse about the state. They may, for example, turn to smuggling because they simply need the money. The quote below, from an interview with the boss of the network in story 3, sums up the situation:

> "They [the recruits] understand that school is worthless. We have young people who go to Djibouti to study at university. They come back with a degree, but no job. Everything is based on tribalism in Djibouti; if you don't come from the right family, you'll get nothing. There are people who have done three or even four years at university, and they come back poorer than before. I made a lot of money during those years, I built up my network. So they come to me and say, 'Do you have a job for me?' They've got nothing to do, so I feel a bit sorry for them. I give them some khat, 2,000 or 3,000 [Djiboutian] francs [the equivalent of 10-15 euros], and I ask them to go and stand watch in front of the police or the gendarmerie." (Network boss, Tadjoura, 2019)

The influence of stories about smuggling in the recruitment of these new smugglers remains difficult to quantify. However, it seems that these stories or symbolic materialities affect three distinct areas. Firstly, they influence the vision that some Djiboutians have of smugglers, notably through processes of subjective decriminalisation of the activity. Through humour, satire or bravura, smuggling is no longer seen as such a criminal activity. Secondly, these stories allow listeners to imagine themselves in the shoes of the smugglers and to take ownership of their success, leading them to dream of a better future. Indeed, while these stories make the business of smuggling attractive to people because of the ease with which they can imagine themselves doing it, they also highlight the enviable social and economic status of some of the bosses. To a young person who has dropped out of school or is unemployed, a network boss represents someone who has access to a certain material culture of success and therefore to consumption. The big bosses are thus recognisable by the way they maintain a decorum of success that is embodied in large-scale distributions of khat and financial donations (charity), the purchase of a vehicle, the construction of a house or even access to property in the capital. Thirdly, these stories
contain a permeable dimension in the sense that the stage, i.e. the place of separation between the narrator and his audience, very often gives way to interaction and the hazards of smuggling in the present. This interference of reality with the story and the audience's imaginary leads to action, with the stage becoming the space of the possible, of the achievable and of direct recruitment. The account below is that of a man who shared several evenings with smugglers before becoming one himself when the opportunity arose, as the network needed men to intervene in a clash.

“I used to hear so much about them [the smugglers]. They had lots of money, they went to Djibouti to eat in the most expensive restaurants, they had fun in night clubs, they helped everyone, they gave lots of money to their families. I wanted to be like them. For me, they were amazing guys. There were the guys [rebels] from the FRUD and there were the smugglers, I had a choice to make, I wanted to become a smuggler, because they were guys who weren't afraid of anything, they didn't care about prison or the police. They were above it all, brave guys. I remember there was this story about a boss who'd escaped from the gendarmerie for two nights, and the guys [the gendarmes] were crazy: 'Where is he? How did he do that?' One evening, I was with them and the network needed some strong guys, there was a fight going on, and I knew straight away that this was my time, I had to go.” (Former smuggler, Djibouti City, 2022)

36 These recruitments follow a dual logic: the personal logic of a man in search of recognition and the strategic logic of networks in need of labour. The bosses know the new recruits through family or neighbourhood connections, so they recruit them without suspicion or any rites of passage or initiation. While this situation may come as a surprise given the criminal nature of the activity, it above all reflects the existence of a process of normalisation of the smugglers for a section of the population, resulting from the stories of smuggling. In turn, the new recruits tell their own stories of their smuggling adventures.

## Social Mobility and Consolidation of Power of Former Smugglers

37 The narration of the smugglers' adventures suggests the interactions that exist between orality as a resource and its consequences for the activity, its continuation and the future of its members. The stories of the smugglers produce a projected imaginary of an environment, but they also have an impact on the lives of these people, as they are at the heart of the processes of upward social mobility and the emergence or reproduction of power. Indeed, the stories of smugglers are not so different from those of migrants. The paths of the men and women who set off for Europe or Saudi Arabia are recounted, amplified and glorified. They thus attest to the success of migration and social mobility through spatial mobility (Grysole and Bonnet, 2020). The same is true of those focusing on the figure of the smuggler and, more generally, on this career in illicit activity.

38 The stories the smugglers tell are above all those of their upward social mobility and the emergence of their power. Whether personal or collective exploits, or misadventures that end well, these stories shape the future of these people around an imaginary of success. The smuggler represents someone who has succeeded in extricating himself from his basic socio-economic condition—poor family background, marginalisation, poverty—to establish himself as an entrepreneur and a figure of success. These stories are transmitted to other excluded people, who in turn try to reproduce the same pattern of success. But the initial conditions are no longer the same. The first stories of the smugglers—between 2007 and 2015—are mainly about the
development of the migrant smuggling business, economic success and the building of
networks. They are stories of individual or collective entrepreneurship in illicit activity
in an environment where everything has yet to be built, where positions are vacant,
and where fortune favours the brave. These stories testify to a period when "anything
was possible". From 2016 onwards, the networks were already established and the
opportunities for upward social mobility seemed more limited due to the maturity of
the business. While some new smugglers are able to move up the ladder because of
their specific skills (language skills, charisma, etc.), the majority of them remain in
basic positions, with no real possibility of rising through the hierarchy.

39

Social mobility gradually gives way to the consolidation of network power. These stories serve more to reproduce power than to create it, as was the case with story 3 about deserved power. They are used, mostly indirectly, to ensure the durability of the networks. As well as providing an opportunity to fantasise about a better future, these stories enable the established networks to benefit from a continuous pool of labour. Here, illicit activity, while creating the myth of wealth accessible to all, consolidates the established powers by drawing on the support of loyal followers. New recruits are poorly paid, sometimes simply in bundles of khat, while profits continue to flow in, at least until the COVID-19 pandemic and the sudden cessation of activity.¹³ These new recruits could be affronted by such treatment, but most of them are not. The networks practice a generous policy towards these men, offering them khat even when they are not working, exploiting the addiction of the most precarious to this euphoric plant. Moreover, and this is perhaps what counts most in their eyes, they become part of a network, a job and participate in the construction of a smugglers' mythology.

Building a Collective Memory of Smuggling

40

The narratives produced by the smugglers reflect a dual temporality, that of a certain
economic success linked to migrant smuggling and that, more generally, of a political
counter-history. Together, they form a moment in the history of a group of individuals,
the smugglers and those close to them. Their adventures could remain no more than
anecdotes, but they could also make up an essentially oral collective memory,
comprising all the stories that the smugglers tell and that are subsequently taken up
and told by others. All these people thus participate in an indirect attempt to archive a
collective memory of the smugglers and migrant smuggling. This shared memory
makes it possible to develop the symbolism of the story in terms of transmission:
telling a story represents a form of ritual that aims to maintain a memory and make it
exist. At the heart of these memory processes, the transmission of stories raises two
questions: what is the purpose of this collective memory? And how is it used?

41

Several results emerge from the studies carried out. Firstly, this memory embodies the
political construction of a subaltern discourse emanating from those excluded from the
rents of the Djiboutian state. Secondly, it serves the main protagonists, i.e. the
smugglers, those who have succeeded. It testifies to their success and their social
position, thereby consolidating their power. It is therefore a matter of respect and
prestige, even if the network disappears or the smuggler stops working. And it is
precisely because many of them are no longer smugglers today that they maintain this
memory, which often corresponds to their period of glory. In other words, memory is
the means by which these men attain posterity, "the rendezvous with eternity"
(Michelutti and Picherit, 2021). Consequently, the aim here is to construct a mythology of smugglers, in the sense of a pantheon of the big names in smuggling in Djibouti, the Horn of Africa and Yemen. Finally, and above all, there is the transmission of the experience of smuggling by the former smugglers to the younger generation.

42 This last argument is of particular interest because it highlights the practical aspect of this memory, i.e. the transmission of experiences from one generation to another. Between 2007 and 2020, there were several generations of smugglers. During these thirteen years, many smugglers decided to leave the trade for various reasons (fatigue, prison, illness). Others were overthrown internally by their second-in-command or externally by competing networks. These bosses are then replaced by new bosses, their second-in-command or smugglers who decide to go into business for themselves. This gives rise to a transfer of power that can be direct or less direct. While each generation has to prove itself, the experience of the older generation can be put to good use to prevent the new generation from experiencing the same setbacks. This is the case of this smuggler, a second-in-command who became a boss in 2015. He explained how he organised his network to avoid suffering the same setbacks—losing his boats—as others before him.

> "I'd heard lots of stories about smugglers, I'd worked as a smuggler myself at first, for several years. I'd learnt from them and then I wanted to become independent. I built my network myself, I built everything, from Ethiopia to Yemen. There were my friends here, I had good friends. With the help of some of them, I went to Yemen to meet the guys [the smugglers]. I didn't know Yemen... but I saw that there were people there who wanted to work. I bought them speedboats and all that so that they could work. But we didn't bring the speedboats here [to Djibouti], we left them in Yemen, because we didn't want to be like the old guys, the ones who got caught by the police. We learned from them. I spoke to them and they told me what they did with the boats, and I wanted to change that so they wouldn't take my boats away from me. We left them in Yemen, it's safer that way." (Former network owner, Obock, 2019)

43 Learning from this experience gives certain smugglers competitive advantages and helps them direct their actions. However, this collective memory remains selective. It rarely, if ever, takes into account certain aspects of the activity, such as imprisonment, shipwrecks—despite their being numerous—or fatal night-time accidents. The latter are often covered up, or traces of the accident disappear (Lauret, 2022b). These various tragedies are pushed aside because they are detrimental to the business. The vitality of this oral memory is therefore all about finding a balance between experience, transmission and the political dimension of an activity, even if it means eliminating certain features that are deemed less attractive. This selection of memories is all the more important as the main protagonists, the smugglers, have everything to gain from erasing the “blunders” of the past.

Conclusion

44 By looking at the images, discourses and perceptions of smugglers within Djiboutian society, and by questioning the potential influence of the stories of smuggling on the lives around them, among the most precarious social classes and those excluded from the distribution of state rents, forms of empathy with the smugglers inevitably emerge that depend above all on the political context, in this case the authoritarian regime in Djibouti, and the subjects' proximity to it. These stories are political more than
economic, and while the events they narrate are part of the professional framework of smuggling, they are reinterpreted in the light of national political issues.

45

These stories are also performative. As symbolic materiality, they have a direct influence on reality, in other words on the perception, life choices and future of migrant smuggling. First of all, there is a set of implicit transactions between the smuggling world and the community. These are all processes of empathy that become established, ultimately leading to the smuggler's transformation from criminal to a contemporary form of social bandit, which seems to be regaining new vitality at the beginning of the 21st century. These stories then influence the career choices of many people, particularly young people who have dropped out of school, are unemployed and easily indoctrinated. They hear laudatory stories and dream of reproducing the model of the hero, the entrepreneur and, more generally, of economic success. Finally, these stories are used to consolidate networks and their business.

46

As figures of adventure, the stories of the smugglers contain mishaps, suspense and twists and turns, combined with the romantic appeal of the figure of the outlaw. Above all, they are evidence of their upward social mobility and success, which is often staged through the practice of euergetism, i.e. the large-scale redistribution of khat to spectators and donations to society. Migrant smuggling represents a diversion into illicit activity in order to climb the social and economic ladder, even though this evolution remains unofficial while the redistributions are official, reminiscent of the mechanisms of “public secrecy”—facts that are known to all but cannot be stated publicly (Taussig, 1999). In this ceremonial sense, the stories of the smugglers are like those of the migrants when they stage their return home.

47

Although little has been said about migrants and the police—a somewhat paradoxical situation since, on the one hand, migrants remain essential to the smuggler's activity and, on the other, police activities have an impact on the smugglers' work—the idea here was to show that migrant smuggling can be understood not just in terms of migration, but as being at the heart of the issues at stake in local and national power relations. Indeed, smugglers attest to the emergence of illicit—or at least hybrid—powers whose symbolism is reinterpreted at the margins of authoritarian regimes and contexts.

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## NOTES

1. This situation is the result of an increase in irregular migration linked to the deadlock in the Libyan conflict since 2011, the exile of Syrians since 2015 and, more recently, diplomatic tensions between Europe and Turkey.

2. The term “smuggler” (in French “passeur”) is preferred to that of migration intermediary. This is because the term was used during interviews conducted in French with the people most concerned. However, the terminology used in neighbouring countries, “dalal” for Yemeni smugglers and “dalalal” in Ethiopia, refers more to the notion of broker or intermediary in a transaction (migration, property, livestock).

3. Law No. 133/AN/16/7th L. of 24 March 2016 on combating human trafficking and migrant smuggling. The activity carries a penalty of two years' imprisonment and a fine of up to 500,000 Djibouti francs (2,500 euros).

4. Malaquais (2001) mentions a range of scams (traveller fraud, embezzlement, banknote multiplying magicians, etc.). As for brouteurs, they mainly commit IT scams (fraudulent emails).

5. The term “coolitude” (cool attitude) used by Fouquet (2013) refers to the work of Barth and Muller (2008: 19), who define coolitude as “the art of feigning insouciance, or that of apeing what is considered the norm in order to better avoid scrutiny.”

6. Access to material culture refers to the accumulation of specific items of property (cars, villas, etc.) that showcase their owner and testify to the latter's socio-economic success. For a broader discussion of this concept, see Rowlands (1996) and Warnier (1999).

7. Khat is an Ethiopian plant consumed in Djibouti as a psychoactive drug.

8. Djib-live is a news magazine close to the government.
9. The term “clandestin” (undocumented or “illegal”) refers to Ethiopian migrants. It is common practice in Djibouti for Ethiopian migrants heading for Yemen to be described as “clandestins”.

10. This story is a direct extract from my doctoral thesis (Lauret, 2022a: 342).

11. Cited in Michelutti and Picherit (2021).

12. More than 80% of the population is sedentary, although a large majority consider themselves of nomadic culture.

13. Migrant smuggling studied in Djibouti from 2007 to 2020.

ABSTRACTS

This article analyses the links between the recruitment of new generations of smugglers and storytelling of the nocturnal “adventures” of former smugglers in Djibouti. Such accounts make it possible to study the imaginaries and discourses of success surrounding the figure of smuggler. To do this, the article draws on a corpus of stories collected from various actors (smuggler, official, henchman), with each account highlighting the various praiseworthy qualities of such a figure. However, this positive vision of an outlaw should be considered against the backdrop of the Djiboutian political context, characterised by, on the one hand, the privatisation of state rents by a micro-elite, and, on the other hand, the marginalisation and impoverishment of part of the population. This situation has two consequences. First, it means that the smuggler indirectly represents a political figure of protest in an authoritarian context. Second, these stories have a direct impact on the recruitment of a new generation of smugglers. Out-of-school young people join the networks of smugglers, thus strengthening the already established power of the network bosses.

Cet article analyse les liens qui existent entre le recrutement des nouvelles générations de passeurs et la mise en récit des « aventuras » nocturnes des anciens passeurs à Djibouti. Ces récits permettent ainsi d'étudier les imaginaires et les discours de réussite produits autour de cette figure du passeur. Pour ce faire, l'article s'appuie sur un corpus d'histoires collectées auprès de divers acteurs (passeur, fonctionnaire, homme de main), chaque histoire mettant en avant les différentes facettes élogieuses d'une telle figure. Or, cette vision positive d'un acteur hors-la-loi est à mettre en parallèle du contexte politique national djiboutien. Ce dernier traduit, d'une part, la privatisation de la rente d'État par une micro-élite et, d'autre part, la marginalisation et l'appauvrissement d'une partie de la population. Cette situation va entraîner deux conséquences. Premièrement, on comprend que le passeur représente indirectement une figure politique de la contestation dans un contexte autoritaire. Deuxièmement, ces histoires vont avoir des conséquences directes sur le recrutement d'une nouvelle génération de passeurs. Des jeunes déscolarisés vont rejoindre les réseaux de passeurs renforçant ainsi le pouvoir déjà constitué des patrons de réseaux.

Este artículo analiza los vínculos que existen entre el reclutamiento de nuevas generaciones de coyotes y la puesta en relato de «aventuras» nocturnas de antiguos coyotes de Djibouti. Estos relatos permiten pues estudiar los imaginarios y los discursos de éxito producidos en torno a esta imagen del coyote. Para ello, este artículo se ahínca en un corpus de testimonios recopilados acerca de diversos actores (coyotes, funcionarios, secuaces), cada relato sobresalta diversos aspectos positivos de dicha imagen. Ahora bien, esta imagen positiva del actor forajido tiene que
ser comparada con el contexto político nacional propio de Djibouti. Esta comporta, por una parte, la privatización de la renta del Estado por una micro-élite y, por otra parte, la marginación y el empobrecimiento de una parte de la población. Esta situación genera dos consecuencias. Primero, se entiende que el coyote representa a una figura política de contestación en contra del contexto autoritario. Segundo, estos relatos impactan directamente el reclutamiento de las nuevas generaciones de coyotes. Jóvenes fuera del sistema educativo integran las redes de coyotes, fortaleciendo así el poder, ya establecido, de las cabezas de dichas redes.

## INDEX

**Palabras claves:** Djibouti, coyotes, historias, aventuras, bandido social, contestación

**Geographical index:** Djibouti

**Keywords:** Djibouti, smuggler, stories, adventures, social bandit, protest

**Mots-clés:** passeur, histoires, aventures, bandit social, contestation

## AUTHORS

### ALEXANDRE LAURET

PhD in human geography, research fellow at LADYSS, Saint-Denis, France; https://orcid.org/0009-0002-2592-603X; al.lauret[at]gmail.com

## TRADUCTEUR_DESCRIPTION

### ALEXANDRA POMÉON O'NEILL (TRANSLATION)

KA-Lex Traduction; kalextrad[at]gmail.com

### KATHERINE BOOTH (TRANSLATION)

KA-Lex Traduction; kalextrad[at]gmail.com