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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Shadowy figures make their way from a dropping off point for tahrib on the Mogadishu Road outside Bosasso. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .One of the tahrib's most common and treasured possessions are the miniature address books that they carry; usually waterproofed and protected by tying them tightly up in a plastic bag. They contain all of their contacts, and most importantly, details of smugglers and of friends in Yemen that they are hoping to look up. Storing numbers in a mobile phone is less secure, since these are frequently robbed by either smugglers or by the bandits that work Somalia's roads.With nothing to do, tahrib such as Chala can spend hours looking through their address books and often borrowtelephones to put in missed calls to the people they hope to meet up with ahead of them on their journey. ÒI fled Ethiopia because the police were harassing me. My father was a militant in the Ogaden Liberation Front and I am a student but the authorities accused me of being an OLF militant too. I fled with my seventeen year old sister Kenza who was threatened as well, and we travelled to Bossaso because we heard many Ethiopian people come here. Now we live at the Oromo Hotel; it's a shanty hut made of cardboard with only one room, where other migrants and refugees eat and sleep. At night, men and women rest directly on the floor. To survive,I've been working as a porter. I make only ten thousand shillings a day, which is just enough to pay for three meals and a night in the hotel. I can't find work every day so sometimes I cannot eat and I'm hungry. My sister works as a maid in a Somali house and she gives me money sometimes. Both of us make just enough to survive but nothing else. I am worried to cross to Yemen because it is very dangerous and because I fear that once there, the authorities might deport me back to Ethiopia where I'm in great danger.Ó (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .When the sun comes up, residents at the Oromo Hotel pull up their scarves and blankets,in order to hide their faces from the sun as they try to go back to sleep. Most have been lyingoutdoors on the stony ground to catch the cool sea breeze, but quickly head inside as themorning comes, for the respite that the shade of the orange plastic sheeting lends them. A few ofthe young men rouse themselves and head off in search of a daily wage, but most just stay still.Resting under their plastic bags of meagre possessions, tied above to the stick structure, for manyof the tahrib here lethargy sets in quickly, as they doze away their last days in Africa.Located among a mass of tents at a coastal bush camp, the Oromo Hotel is just one of three suchdoss houses run by the same smuggling gang. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Emerging from a back room, a tahrib throws his hands up in joy after counting outhis money. He has nearly a million shillings, and will go to Yemen any day now. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .When the sun comes up, residents at the Oromo Hotel pull up their scarves and blankets,in order to hide their faces from the sun as they try to go back to sleep. Most have been lyingoutdoors on the stony ground to catch the cool sea breeze, but quickly head inside as themorning comes, for the respite that the shade of the orange plastic sheeting lends them. A few ofthe young men rouse themselves and head off in search of a daily wage, but most just stay still.Resting under their plastic bags of meagre possessions, tied above to the stick structure, for manyof the tahrib here lethargy sets in quickly, as they doze away their last days in Africa.Located among a mass of tents at a coastal bush camp, the Oromo Hotel is just one of three suchdoss houses run by the same smuggling gang. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .A female migrant from Ethiopia sits beside a national airline bag as she rests in the shade atMohamed Wardhi's cafe. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Living in a bush shelter constructed only of sticks, cardboard and wheat sacks pieced togetherwith string, twenty two year old mother of three Hoda rests with her newborn baby girl Hazra, inan overcrowded camp on Puntland's coast.Arriving in this supposed transit haven from Mogadishu with her husband a year ago, thecouple planned to head across the Gulf of Aden with smugglers in search of a new life in SaudiArabia. With only one place available on the boat, Hoda's husband went ahead. That was sevenmonths ago. Presumed drowned, she has not heard word of him since.Now Hoda is desperate to follow in his footsteps, along with her baby, in search of him. Shecannot believe that he could have died, and wants only to see him again. ÒI can neither go back toMogadishu with my children, as it is too dangerous there, nor stay in Bossaso, where there is onlypoverty for us. I am desperate to cross to Yemen. My ten-year old daughter is used to helping mewith the youngest children, she will take care of them while I'm away. We cannot go on living in a squalid settlement for displaced peopleÉ This is not a life.Ó (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Living in a bush shelter constructed only of sticks, cardboard and wheat sacks pieced togetherwith string, twenty two year old mother of three Hoda rests with her newborn baby girl Hazra, inan overcrowded camp on Puntland's coast.Arriving in this supposed transit haven from Mogadishu with her husband a year ago, thecouple planned to head across the Gulf of Aden with smugglers in search of a new life in SaudiArabia. With only one place available on the boat, Hoda's husband went ahead. That was sevenmonths ago. Presumed drowned, she has not heard word of him since.Now Hoda is desperate to follow in his footsteps, along with her baby, in search of him. Shecannot believe that he could have died, and wants only to see him again. ÒI can neither go back toMogadishu with my children, as it is too dangerous there, nor stay in Bossaso, where there is onlypoverty for us. I am desperate to cross to Yemen. My ten-year old daughter is used to helping mewith the youngest children, she will take care of them while I'm away. We cannot go on living in asqualid settlement for displaced peopleÉ This is not a life.Ó. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Having been dropped off on the roadside in Bossaso, a smuggler's agent coordinates the latest new arrivals from Mogadishu, as they are transferred into a small bus that will transport them to a covert halfway house in the town. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Trucks park up at the main dropping off point for migrants and refugees on the outskirts of Bosasso. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Veiled figures make their way through the dimly lit streets of Bosasso at night. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Ethiopian refugee Zahara rests beside a cooking fire, in a makeshift camp hemmed into thewalls behind Bossaso's port. After the long overland journey through Somalia, Zahara is nowusing a small cafŽ there as a base, as she waits to depart in smugglers' boats. Like many of theother tahrib in Bossaso, she is searching for a better life free from violence.Smiling and laughing with a group of women she met on the way, Zahara eventually left Somaliaa week later from a sandy beach under blue skies. Hitting a patch of bad weather at sea, the tinyboat in which she was travelling capsized as it began to take on water. Only eleven of the onehundred and forty passengers on board are known to have survived. Zahara is believed dead. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Covered in flies and scars from bullet wounds, a teenage refugee in transit sits under the orange tattered canvas of Jibril's halfway house come cafe near Bosasso's port. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .A young girl in transit to Yemen stands under the tattered awnings of a doss house serving Somalia and Ethiopian tahrib near Bosasso Port.. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Car headlights illuminate the busy streets leading into Bosasso town at the head of the Mogadishu Road.. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .With the displaced in Bossaso's camps suffering such extreme hardships, they are prone to malnutrition and extremely vulnerable to both disease and death. With so many exhausted women and children arriving in the town after days spent on the road, the stabilisation centre for malnourished children at Biyo Kulule was set up by NGO MŽdecins Sans Frontires (MSF), in response early in 1997. Ambulatory teams located tens of underfed and dehydrated children on their daily visits to the surrounding settlements; the majority in dire circumstances. As fighting in Mogadishu escalated that spring, the numbers only got higher. The blue painted rooms of the hospital were filled with women cradling young babies, brushing off flies while their children lay almost lifeless as they underwent therapeutic feeding. Many were hoping that they would just get better quickly so that they could continue their journey out of Somalia. Others were just in a state of despair. A few months later the programme had to close after a doctor and nurse were kidnapped by one of the smuggling gangs. In the seven months the Biyo Kulule centre was open, two thousand children were admitted. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .With the displaced in Bossaso's camps suffering such extreme hardships, they are prone to malnutrition and extremely vulnerable to both disease and death. With so many exhausted women and children arriving in the town after days spent on the road, the stabilisation centre for malnourished children at Biyo Kulule was set up by NGO MŽdecins Sans Frontires (MSF), in response early in 1997. Ambulatory teams located tens of underfed and dehydrated children on their daily visits to the surrounding settlements; the majority in dire circumstances. As fighting in Mogadishu escalated that spring, the numbers only got higher. The blue painted rooms of the hospital were filled with women cradling young babies, brushing off flies while their children lay almost lifeless as they underwent therapeutic feeding. Many were hoping that they would just get better quickly so that they could continue their journey out of Somalia. Others were just in a state of despair. A few months later the programme had to close after a doctor and nurse were kidnapped by one of the smuggling gangs. In the seven months the Biyo Kulule centre was open, two thousand children were admitted. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .With the displaced in Bossaso's camps suffering such extreme hardships, they are prone to malnutrition and extremely vulnerable to both disease and death. With so many exhausted women and children arriving in the town after days spent on the road, the stabilisation centre for malnourished children at Biyo Kulule was set up by NGO MŽdecins Sans Frontires (MSF), in response early in 1997. Ambulatory teams located tens of underfed and dehydrated children on their daily visits to the surrounding settlements; the majority in dire circumstances. As fighting in Mogadishu escalated that spring, the numbers only got higher. The blue painted rooms of the hospital were filled with women cradling young babies, brushing off flies while their children lay almost lifeless as they underwent therapeutic feeding. Many were hoping that they would just get better quickly so that they could continue their journey out of Somalia. Others were just in a state of despair. A few months later the programme had to close after a doctor and nurse were kidnapped by one of the smuggling gangs. In the seven months the Biyo Kulule centre was open, two thousand children were admitted. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .With the displaced in Bossaso's camps suffering such extreme hardships, they are prone to malnutrition and extremely vulnerable to both disease and death. With so many exhausted women and children arriving in the town after days spent on the road, the stabilisation centre for malnourished children at Biyo Kulule was set up by NGO MŽdecins Sans Frontires (MSF), in response early in 1997. Ambulatory teams located tens of underfed and dehydrated children on their daily visits to the surrounding settlements; the majority in dire circumstances. As fighting in Mogadishu escalated that spring, the numbers only got higher. The blue painted rooms of the hospital were filled with women cradling young babies, brushing off flies while their children lay almost lifeless as they underwent therapeutic feeding. Many were hoping that they would just get better quickly so that they could continue their journey out of Somalia. Others were just in a state of despair. A few months later the programme had to close after a doctor and nurse were kidnapped by one of the smuggling gangs. In the seven months the Biyo Kulule centre was open, two thousand children were admitted. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Visiting his lock-up in downtown Bossaso, smuggler Omar picks up a bundle of a million shillings from his store of money, earned by ferrying thousands of tahrib across the Gulf of Aden to Yemen each year. Equivalent to just $50, this handful of cash is what each migrant or refugee pays to put their destiny in the hands of such smugglers. It is the price of life here. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Visiting his lock-up in downtown Bossaso, smuggler Omar picks up a bundle of a million shillings from his store of money, earned by ferrying thousands of tahrib across the Gulf of Aden to Yemen each year. Equivalent to just $50, this handful of cash is what each migrant or refugee pays to put their destiny in the hands of such smugglers. It is the price of life here. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Visiting his lock-up in downtown Bossaso, smuggler Omar picks up a bundle of a million shillings from his store of money, earned by ferrying thousands of tahrib across the Gulf of Aden to Yemen each year. Equivalent to just $50, this handful of cash is what each migrant or refugee pays to put their destiny in the hands of such smugglers. It is the price of life here. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Shacks built of sticks and coloured sheets surround a rendez-vous point for people smugglers on the eastern lawless periphery of Bosasso town. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO- SOMALIA, DECEMBER 2007 .Working for a people trafficking syndicate, a CB radio operator talks to truck drivers bringing migrants and refugees along the Mogadishu Road to Bossaso. Known as ÒRadio KabilaÓ after Congo's president, this Hawiye smuggling gang's Bossaso office is linked to a chain of others across south central Somalia. Sitting behind a fenced off desk, the operator slowly attends to a row of customers that have been sitting on plastic chairs under a painted skull and cross-bones since early morning. On their way to Yemen, they are waiting for hawala money transfers to arrive from relatives; few have carried enough cash for their onward sea journey fearing robbery on the roads. Their families will have to visit a sister office to send the money and it cannot be paid out here until the operator receives a call on the radio. Once it comes, it is unlikely that it will ever leave Radio Kabila. Most will immediately pay the fare of a million shillings to the boss in order to secure their passage across the Gulf of Aden. For now though they must be patient; the agent is busy talking to middlemen as they coordinate a pick-up of the latest batch of potential customers due to arrive in town any moment. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO- SOMALIA, DECEMBER 2007 .Working for a people trafficking syndicate, a CB radio operator talks to truck drivers bringing migrants and refugees along the Mogadishu Road to Bossaso. Known as ÒRadio KabilaÓ after Congo's president, this Hawiye smuggling gang's Bossaso office is linked to a chain of others across south central Somalia. Sitting behind a fenced off desk, the operator slowly attends to a row of customers that have been sitting on plastic chairs under a painted skull and cross-bones since early morning. On their way to Yemen, they are waiting for hawala money transfers to arrive from relatives; few have carried enough cash for their onward sea journey fearing robbery on the roads. Their families will have to visit a sister office to send the money and it cannot be paid out here until the operator receives a call on the radio. Once it comes, it is unlikely that it will ever leave Radio Kabila. Most will immediately pay the fare of a million shillings to the boss in order to secure their passage across the Gulf of Aden. For now though they must be patient; the agent is busy talking to middlemen as they coordinate a pick-up of the latest batch of potential customers due to arrive in town any moment. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO- SOMALIA, DECEMBER 2007 .Working for a people trafficking syndicate, a CB radio operator talks to truck drivers bringing migrants and refugees along the Mogadishu Road to Bossaso. Known as ÒRadio KabilaÓ after Congo's president, this Hawiye smuggling gang's Bossaso office is linked to a chain of others across south central Somalia. Sitting behind a fenced off desk, the operator slowly attends to a row of customers that have been sitting on plastic chairs under a painted skull and cross-bones since early morning. On their way to Yemen, they are waiting for hawala money transfers to arrive from relatives; few have carried enough cash for their onward sea journey fearing robbery on the roads. Their families will have to visit a sister office to send the money and it cannot be paid out here until the operator receives a call on the radio. Once it comes, it is unlikely that it will ever leave Radio Kabila. Most will immediately pay the fare of a million shillings to the boss in order to secure their passage across the Gulf of Aden. For now though they must be patient; the agent is busy talking to middlemen as they coordinate a pick-up of the latest batch of potential customers due to arrive in town any moment. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2207 .Groups of young male Somali and Ethiopian tahrib spend their days in Mohamed Wardhi's makeshift cafŽ that he runs just outside Bossaso's port gates. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .Jibril's orange-covered cafŽ sits just along the street from Mohamed's. There is little to tell themapart. Silent Amharic pop videos cast light from old television sets, young men sit playing cardsat the tables built from sticks, while women braiding their hair can be seen hidden behindtorn pieces of sheeting in a kind of disrupted purda. Thermos flasks of hot water sit ready forcustomers who have plenty of time to kill. Waiting for the boats can be restless and the tahribhave little to do to fill their time. Few have enough money even to afford a cheap hot meal fromthe women, usually sat cooking at a fire in the corner.The customers haven't had to search hard for Jibril's place by the port - many have already beeninformed of its whereabouts by smuggling networks across the border in towns like Harar.Over the years, the orange-covered cafŽ owners are branching out as they make some cash,investing in money exchange offices, telephone booths and boats - all to serve the tahrib, in whatis Bossaso's biggest business. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2007 .A displaced girl helps to cook a meal for a group of young tahrib in a shelter built from sticks onone of Bossaso town's windswept beaches. This flimsy doss house is run by a notorious, plump,qat-chewing mama. Renowned as Somalia's only female smuggler, she wins over new arrivals withher hospitality, but plays a level game with the men when it comes to coordinating the movementof the tahrib she collects. With thirty-five migrants and refugees currently hiding out in the shelter,it will take her another week to boost numbers, before she escorts them along with her militia to aremote stretch of coast, from where they will continue on their dangerous voyage to Yemen. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- JANUARY 2008 .Juju charms of twigs and chains sit on a table in Bantu elder Mohamed Ali Juba's self-constructedfamily home built of branches and plastic sheeting. Marginalised in Somalia for being ethnicallyand culturally different, the Bantu tribe has been particularly vulnerable to abuses by militiasthroughout Somalia's clan warfare. Traditionally farmers, the Bantu have been on the run sincethe outbreak of civil war, and can be found in camps across Somalia and Yemen. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- JANUARY 2008 .Juju charms of twigs and chains sit on a table in Bantu elder Mohamed Ali Juba's self-constructedfamily home built of branches and plastic sheeting. Marginalised in Somalia for being ethnicallyand culturally different, the Bantu tribe has been particularly vulnerable to abuses by militiasthroughout Somalia's clan warfare. Traditionally farmers, the Bantu have been on the run sincethe outbreak of civil war, and can be found in camps across Somalia and Yemen. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Under the dim glow of a strip light, Kali's mother Farhiya Kasim Abdulle holds up the refugeeidentity paper issued to her and her family by UNHCR upon arrival at Djibouti's Ali AddehCamp. After losing her husband in a mortar strike that hit their home, injured Farhiya grabbedher two children and fled the Huriwaa neighbourhood of Mogadishu, otherwise known asÒFallujahÓ. Barely able to walk and covered in shrapnel wounds, she is looking for a way to findsanctuary in Yemen. After twelve days spent on the road, for now she just needs to rest. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Staying with his widowed mother at the Hamawiri Shop for the past two weeks, eight year oldMohamed Abdullah Omar sits at the top of a ladder outside the room that his family share withthree female refugees and their children. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Late into the night, passengers disembark from buses in Djiboutiville's African Quarter. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .A young girl makes her way past abandoned cars at the roadside Hargeisa bus terminal at night. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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ALI ADDEH, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Sheltering in a tent that she shares with three other families, twenty-six year old Nimo Abdi sits with her three year old son Sadiiq. After her husband and two other children were killed in an explosion in Mogadishu, Nimo fled to her sister's house, only to be told that she had left for Djibouti. In search of her remaining family, Nimo set out on the long journey to track herdown. A year later and she is stuck in the remote Ali Addeh Camp trying to care for Sadiiq, who is suffering from severe mental disturbances; she thinks a result of the almost continuous shelling he endured as a baby in Somalia. Nimo feels trapped here, and never imagined her life would turn out like this. She has never found her sister. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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ALI ADDEH, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Sheltering in a tent that she shares with three other families, twenty-six year old Nimo Abdi sits with her three year old son Sadiiq. After her husband and two other children were killed in an explosion in Mogadishu, Nimo fled to her sister's house, only to be told that she had left for Djibouti. In search of her remaining family, Nimo set out on the long journey to track herdown. A year later and she is stuck in the remote Ali Addeh Camp trying to care for Sadiiq, who is suffering from severe mental disturbances; she thinks a result of the almost continuous shelling he endured as a baby in Somalia. Nimo feels trapped here, and never imagined her life would turn out like this. She has never found her sister. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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ALI ADDEH, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .At a tent in the far-flung Ali Addeh Camp refugees make signs protesting at their plight. Located in a remote inland desert near the Somaliland border, the camp is often just a pit stop on the journey for the tahrib but home to more than seven thousand long-term Somali and Ethiopian refugees. As authorities round up those crossing illegally into Djibouti at its southern border, trucks ferry groups of refugees from the Loyada frontier to Ali Addeh, where they are registered by UNHCR and offered shelter. Conditions here are bleak, with residents surviving hand to mouth on food and water distributions. The solitude of the place and the harsh environment mean that only the very vulnerable and those seeking asylum or formal relocation to a third country stay put. With new smuggling routes across the Bab El-Mendab Strait opening up, the numbers passing through the camp have dramatically increased. During the first month that smugglers began operations in Dijbouti, the same number of refugees were registered as were expected for the whole year. For those who have made Ali Addeh home, there is a strong feeling that they have been marginalised; pushed out into this barren land by the Djiboutian authorities so they can be forgotten. .As the group of refugees hold up their banners, a teenage girl called Farah sits crying in the corner. ÒI lost my mum and dad in Mogadishu, I came home and my house was burning. I'm a refugee now but I never wanted to end up like this. I've been here for a month now and I don't know how the others have resisted. I would prefer to die in the seaÓ.. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Where the African and European quarters meet, a street lined with telephone booths and money changing offices, run by refugees who have made their base here, provide services for the newly arrived tahrib of Djibouti. Behind a curtained door on a small intersection sits an inconsequential grocery store selling drinks, chewing gum, and sweets. A young boy mans the counter as the female owner Fylis chats to the men taking sodas outside. Behind the shelves, a flimsy partition hides a clandestine halfway house known as the ÒHamawiri ShopÓ, after the local slang for people from Mogadishu. Around thirty tahrib on average stay here at a time. The ramshackle construction seems to barely hold up the weight of this tiny terraced house. Only two buzzing fluorescent bulbs cast any light in this windowless interior. A ladder built of wooden planks nailed together at angles leads up to a precarious landing where the thin floor can only be navigated by tiptoeing on the rafters. Four tiny rooms partitioned with plywood and plastic sheeting tightly house the temporary residents, in conditions that are unbearably hot and stuffy. The Hamawiri Shop is grim, but for the refugees there it's only a stop gap, and a world away from Mogadishu. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Staying with his widowed mother at the Hamawiri Shop for the past two weeks, eight year oldMohamed Abdullah Omar sits at the top of a ladder outside the room that his family share withthree female refugees and their children. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Sharing a thin foam mattress with three other friends from Mogadishu, all planning totravel to Yemen, Abdi Mohamed Abdullah sleeps under a corrugated iron shelter on theHamawiri Shop's rooftop. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Fleeing Mogadishu last year after being wounded in the neck by shrapnel during heavy fighting,nineteen year old Ahmed Ibrahim is now on his second bid to reach Yemen. Having travelled withsmugglers on a boat from Bossaso nine months ago, Ahmed was lucky to make it across the Gulfof Aden alive. He saw fellow passengers being beaten by an enraged crew that threw one young boy overboard just for complaining. Capsizing close to a landing site on the Arabian Peninsula, Ahmed was just one of a few survivors. Barely able to swim, he can only thank Allah for saving his life.Eventually arriving in Sana'a, Ahmed spent four months washing cars but disillusioned withthe life he found in Yemen, headed to Saudi Arabia with the little money he saved. Despitefinding work tending cattle, he was quickly caught by the police, imprisoned due to his illegalstatus and deported back to Mogadishu. With his dreams shattered, no home or family leftto return to and the security situation deteriorating, his only thought was to try and escapefor a second time. He is too scared to see the smugglers in Bossaso to whom he entrusted hislife with before, and on hearing of new routes from Djibouti while in prison, is trying his luckfrom here with a gang of boat-owning Afars. For now, Fylis has given him a place to sleep atthe Hamawiri Shop that is out of sight. He prays that he will reach Obock any day now, andthings will work out better for him the second time round. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008.Up on the roof, planks of wood prop up little corrugated iron shelters overlooking the streetbelow. Filled with plastic bags and luggage, these are the rooms in which the young men residentat the Hamawiri Shop spend their nights, side by side on flattened cardboard boxes. The roomsdownstairs are reserved for the women and children who require more privacy. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008.Up on the roof, planks of wood prop up little corrugated iron shelters overlooking the streetbelow. Filled with plastic bags and luggage, these are the rooms in which the young men residentat the Hamawiri Shop spend their nights, side by side on flattened cardboard boxes. The roomsdownstairs are reserved for the women and children who require more privacy. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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OBOCK, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .At the northern tip of the Gulf of Tadjoura, sleepy fishing ports such as Obock have long had areputation as smugglers' havens. Alcohol, cigarettes and illicit contraband are frequently ferriedacross the short stretch of water to Yemen from here. Lately however the dhows have beentransporting a rather more profitable cargo.In this hot and dusty one street town, small groups of tahrib are carefully hidden away, oftenforbidden from walking out during the day. Runners bring supplies of soft drinks, cigarettes and qat back to the fly-infested wooden shacks, where the disorientated refugees rarely spend more than a day or two. Heading north along the coast to distant beaches, Yemen is just four hours away across the narrow Bab El-Mendab Strait. To have made it this far means that escape is achingly close. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

A MILLION SHILLINGS

OBOCK, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .At the northern tip of the Gulf of Tadjoura, sleepy fishing ports such as Obock have long had areputation as smugglers' havens. Alcohol, cigarettes and illicit contraband are frequently ferriedacross the short stretch of water to Yemen from here. Lately however the dhows have beentransporting a rather more profitable cargo.In this hot and dusty one street town, small groups of tahrib are carefully hidden away, oftenforbidden from walking out during the day. Runners bring supplies of soft drinks, cigarettes and qat back to the fly-infested wooden shacks, where the disorientated refugees rarely spend more than a day or two. Heading north along the coast to distant beaches, Yemen is just four hours away across the narrow Bab El-Mendab Strait. To have made it this far means that escape is achingly close. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

A MILLION SHILLINGS

DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Saara Ali Mohamed comforts her friend Ayan Mousa Esmail in an overcrowded room of atransit house. The two eighteen year old girls both escaped from Mogadishu after their homeswere destroyed in an attack by Ethiopian forces during the recent wave of fighting. Hiding outalong with twenty-two other tahrib, both are waiting to travel with smugglers across the Gulfof Aden to Yemen. Having met on the road in an overland journey that took them three weeks,this new group of friends now refer to themselves as Òthe gangÓ, and are hoping to continue theonward leg of their journey together. They know that it will be the most dangerous part but haveconsciously come via Djibouti in order to avoid the notorious smugglers in Bossaso that theyhave heard so much about. So far they have only made contact with middle men in Djibouti,via the owners of a small money exchange office, and know little about the reputations of thelocal smugglers in whose hands they will ultimately place their lives. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Noor Jimale looks at his reflection in one of the girl's pocket mirrors, as he rests on the floor ofthe overcrowded room that Òthe gangÓ are sharing. There is barely enough room inside the flimsyshack to stretch out at night, and so most of the temporary male and female residents take turnsto nap or lie down during the hot day. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008.Members of "the gang"- a group of twnety two Somali tahrib travelling to Yemen togthere, spend the day resting in a tiny shack that they have rented together in the back alleys of Djibouti's fourth quarter. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Eighteen year old Saara Ali Mohamed sits in the squat that she shares with twenty two other tahrib in the back alleys of Djiboti's fourth quarter. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Saara Ali Mohamed adjusts her pink veil in the clandestine squat that she shares with twenty two other tahrib in the back alleys of Djibouti's forth quarter. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .With a television set playing films or local pop videos late into the night, the street cafes inDjibouti's African quarter provide a place to congregate for those in transit. For the price of a cupof tea, they can while away the hours. Chit-chat amongst the refugees revolves around wherethey can sleep, the latest smugglers' offices to have opened in town, and contacts for the roadahead. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Hearing a tip-off at a cafŽ that morning, Abdul Majid accompanies two other newly arrivedtahrib to the shanty house of a female Somali refugee, who is rumoured to be helping young boyswith nowhere to stay. As she watches television with her children in a dirty blue room, Abdul isdiscouraged. She says that without work she can't afford the exorbitant rent on the one-roomedshack and is looking for some temporary lodgers so as to abate the threats from her landlord.For Abdul it's a dead end. He will spend the rest of the day searching around the narrow backstreets but competition for a place to sleep seems tough. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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DJIBOUTI, DJIBOUTI- MARCH 2008 .Often just a shack showing old action films or Bollywood movies on video, so-called cinemas dot the streets and bazaars of Djiboutiville's African Quarter. For just a few francs or shillings, it is possible to find a place to sit for an entire day out of the sun, with a little entertainment thrown in. Usually furnished with rows of wooden benches, the cinemas attract passing refugees looking for a distraction; many even use the venues as a place to lay their heads for a few hours. Exhausted, they sleep soundly as the rattle of gunfire for once, bursts from the television screen. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2008 .Shuttling small groups of tahrib to an assembly point on the far edge of the town, a driver makesa pick-up from Elias' house - an old cafŽ that serves as a doss house for transiting Ethiopianmigrants and refugees on their way to Yemen. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Spending a second day hiding out in the mountains of Marero, eight year old Hassan and tenyear old Mohamed rest on plastic sheeting as they wait to depart on the voyage across the Gulfof Aden. Having travelled from Mogadishu alone, the unaccompanied minors are now beingescorted by an unrelated adult who will guide them to Saudi Arabia. Part of a boatload of Somaliswho are being trafficked, the boys are nervous about the journey that lies ahead of them. Theirguide has told them that he will help Hassan and Mohamed to find jobs and look after them; thelikelihood however is that they will be sold upon reaching Saudi, only to be enslaved and abused. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007.Sheltered under a cliff overhang at Marero, migrants and refugees wait to leave Somalia on smugglers' boats that are being prepared for departure on the beach below. Unlike most of the tahrib who pay a million shillings for the crossing in overpacked and unstable vessels, the men in this group have paid three times the price to travel in smaller, faster boats that carry just thirty to forty people; most are economic migrants on their way to Saudi Arabia. Just along the cliffs, a group of women and children sit quietly on plastic sheeting. Leaving in the same boats, they are also headed to Saudi Arabia - but they are being trafficked. Promised jobs in the houses of rich families, their escape from Somalia is for free but they are likely to be sold and then enslaved for the rest of their lives. Hidden away from society and concealed behind their abayas, very few females are ever discovered by the authorities. Like thousands of other impoverished women from the Horn of Africa who are promised better lives in The Kingdom each year, they risk losing their freedom, rights and own name, becoming only ÒabidÓ. The fate of the unaccompanied minors could be even worse. Unprotected and vulnerable, they are susceptible not only to slavery, but to sexual or physical abuse. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .As the sun sets over the Gulf of Aden, a refugee waiting to depart from Ras Marero speaks to hisfamily as he makes a final call from Somalia. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Sheltered under a cliff overhang at Marero, migrants and refugees wait to leave Somalia on smugglers' boats that are being prepared for departure on the beach below. Unlike most of the tahrib who pay a million shillings for the crossing in overpacked and unstable vessels, the men in this group have paid three times the price to travel in smaller, faster boats that carry just thirty to forty people; most are economic migrants on their way to Saudi Arabia. Just along the cliffs, a group of women and children sit quietly on plastic sheeting. Leaving in the same boats, they are also headed to Saudi Arabia - but they are being trafficked. Promised jobs in the houses of rich families, their escape from Somalia is for free but they are likely to be sold and then enslaved for the rest of their lives. Hidden away from society and concealed behind their abayas, very few females are ever discovered by the authorities. Like thousands of other impoverished women from the Horn of Africa who are promised better lives in The Kingdom each year, they risk losing their freedom, rights and own name, becoming only ÒabidÓ. The fate of the unaccompanied minors could be even worse. Unprotected and vulnerable, they are susceptible not only to slavery, but to sexual or physical abuse. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .Lying against the rocks with his Kalashnikov, Abdu Rahman relaxes with a fellow armed gangmember above the bay at Ras Marero beach. Originally from Mogadishu, Abdu is paid tendollars a day by one of Bossaso's chief smugglers, to work as part of a security team, escortingmigrants and refugees to the beaches. Notorious for their thuggish behaviour, the guards carelittle for the welfare of the thousands of tahrib that are put in their charge each year. High onhashish and qat, they are prone to firing their weapons in order to demonstrate their authority, orsimply when they are fooling around. Known to rob, rape and even murder the vulnerable tahribwaiting to depart Somalia, Abdu and his friends show little mercy. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- NOVEMBER 2007 .On their way to the beaches that serve as departure points for Yemen, flat bed trucks packed full of tahrib make their way along coastal tracks. While some migrants and refugees are instructed to make the thirty odd kilometre journey along the shore on foot, most are openly shuttled in small batches by cheaply hired trucks. Escorted by armed gang members, the drivers can often make this journey several times a day in peak periods. With loyal militia in charge of the roads surrounding Bossaso, when it comes to these operations, there is little risk involved for the smugglers. For the tahrib, it is a short, uncomfortable ride and just another stage in their long journeys. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2008.On their way to the beaches that serve as departure points for Yemen, flatbed trucks packed fullof tahrib travel along coastal tracks. While some migrants and refugees are instructed to makethe thirty kilometre journey along the shore on foot, most are openly shuttled in small batchesby cheaply hired trucks. Escorted by armed gang members, the drivers can often make thisjourney several times a day in peak periods. With loyal militia in charge of the roads surroundingBossaso, when it comes to these operations, there is little risk involved for the smugglers.For the tahrib, it is a short, uncomfortable ride, and just another stage in their long journeys. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

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MORERO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2008.On their way to the beaches that serve as departure points for Yemen, flatbed trucks packed fullof tahrib travel along coastal tracks. While some migrants and refugees are instructed to makethe thirty kilometre journey along the shore on foot, most are openly shuttled in small batchesby cheaply hired trucks. Escorted by armed gang members, the drivers can often make thisjourney several times a day in peak periods. With loyal militia in charge of the roads surroundingBossaso, when it comes to these operations, there is little risk involved for the smugglers.For the tahrib, it is a short, uncomfortable ride, and just another stage in their long journeys. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)

A MILLION SHILLINGS

BOSASSO, SOMALIA- DECEMBER 2008 .Travelling in the back of a hatchback with smugglers, a young organiser heads to one of the dosshouses near Bossaso port. Coordinating the collection of a group of tahrib who will be leavingSomalia that night, cars will shuttle ten at a time to a canvas shelter on the edge of town over thecourse of the afternoon. Not until a boatload of one hundred and twenty or so migrants andrefugees are convened together, at what is the final rendezvous point, will the smugglers start tooperate more freely. From this point on, they exercise complete control and can begin movingtheir human cargo onto trucks destined for Puntland's beaches without fear. (KEYSTONE/NOOR/Alixandra Fazzina)