Starvation and drowning on the deadly Horn of Africa migrant route
On a vast, sun-scorched plain in Djibouti, dozens of men made the days-long trek home after their plan failed to cross one of the world's deadliest migration routes from Africa to the Gulf.
Their faces drawn, their bodies emaciated, some had not eaten in days. A few withered acacia trees offer the only occasional shade in Djibouti's April "winter", when temperatures still hit 35C.
Jemal Ibrahim Hassan hoped to find work in one of the wealthy Gulf monarchies by travelling from Djibouti on the Horn of Africa to Yemen across the narrow but deadly Bab-el-Mandab Strait.
Like the vast majority of migrants, Hassan comes from neighbouring Ethiopia, a country of 130 million people beset by entrenched poverty and multiple armed conflicts.
"We had no place to stay in peace," said the 25-year-old former farmer when AFP met him in northern Djibouti.
He walked for 15 days, covering some 550 kilometres (340 miles), his feet "swollen and blistered", before boarding an overcrowded boat. But it was stopped by the coastguard and he ended up in a Yemeni detention centre.
"There was no food, nothing. We stayed there for eight days and they brought us back," he said.
Jemal almost died when a storm struck on the return journey, and was now walking again, this time back to Ethiopia.
Deadliest on record
Tens of thousands of migrants brave this so-called Eastern Route each year, most leaving from Djibouti, which lies just 30 kilometres from Yemen at the closest point.
More than 900 died or disappeared along the route in 2025 -- the deadliest year on record, according to the UN International Organization for Migration (IOM).
The latest shipwreck in late March left at least nine dead and 45 missing when a boat capsized near Obock.
On board was Zinab Gebrekristos, 20, who fled Tigray in northern Ethiopia, an unstable region that emerged from a bloody war in 2022.
She paid a smuggler 50,000 birr ($320), a huge sum in a country where 40 percent live below the poverty line. She was robbed of her money and phone en route, and then had to wait three days on the Djibouti coast "without food or water -- just the desert".
On the evening of March 24, the smugglers crammed 320 people onto a small boat, which quickly began to sink.
"Many people died right in front of our eyes -- friends and family members," said Zinab, speaking at an IOM-run centre in Obock. "I can't even remember how I managed to get off."
Bodies in the sand
At Gehere beach, a regular departure point north of Obock, clothes, flip-flops and shoes litter the sand.
Youssouf Moussa Mohamed, head of IOM's Obock office, pointed to two mass graves on the beach and said there were others nearby.
"More than 200 bodies are buried around here," he said.
These days, they have permission to use the cemetery at Obock. Dozens more unmarked graves bear witness to the horrors of the route.
Some 98 percent of the migrants Youssouf encounters are Ethiopian. Coming from a landlocked country, most have never seen the sea before attempting the crossing.
Between June and August, temperatures climb to 45C, and violent sandstorms blind migrants, leaving them lost in the desert. Some take their own lives in despair.
"We recovered about 20 bodies a month during the last hot season," said Youssouf.
The Djibouti coastguard has increased patrols against smugglers, who are mostly Yemeni, and a dozen seized boats were parked outside.
But with 200 to 300 migrants arriving in Obock every day, the coastguard and IOM cannot cope.
"Each year is more deadly than the last," said Youssouf. "And we don't know how long it will continue."
Abandoned on the way
Genet Gebremeskel Gebremariam, 30, could not provide for her four children and mother with the $1 to $2 she earned daily as a farm labourer in Tigray.
She crossed the desert and cliffs on foot with dozens of others.
"No one picks up those who are tired or fall; they leave them behind. We were forced to march like soldiers while being beaten with sticks from behind. Many women grew weak from thirst and hunger and were left behind in the desert," said Genet.
It was too much for her and she decided to turn back.
"Whether it's day labour or domestic work, my former life is better than this suffering," she said.
Others are too desperate to give up.
Muiaz Abaroge, 19, from western Ethiopia, still hoped to reach Saudi Arabia.
"It's frightening, but I have no other choice," he told AFP on the road to Obock.
"I know many people have perished, but I must get through this hardship."