Moroccan families travel to Ceuta border in search of missing loved ones

Families watch as migrants return after crossing the border into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta, at the Bab Ceuta border post near the town of Fnideq, Morocco on August 2, 2026. - © Abdel Majid Bziouat, AFP

More than two weeks after a wave of migrants arrived in Ceuta, Spain, from Morocco, families met by FRANCE 24 Tuesday were still waiting for news of their loved ones. Parents and siblings had travelled to hospitals, police stations and the border in search of information.

In total, more than 70,000 people crossed the border between Morocco and the Spanish enclave on July 30 and 31. Almost all of them have left, but between 2,000 and 5,000 remain in Ceuta.

Read more In Ceuta, migrants stranded at Europe's gates await their fate

The death toll from the crisis given by officials is now 91, including 80 in Spain and 11 on the Moroccan side. However, the Moroccan Association for Human Rights, a non-governmental group, estimated the death toll to be at least 141.

Spanish authorities found dozens of bodies at sea but are having difficulty identifying the victims, leaving many families expecting the worst. Relatives and friends wait by a fence topped with barbed wire for the return of people who previously crossed into Spain's North African enclave of Ceuta at Morocca's Bab Sebta border crossing on the outskirts of Fnideq, August 2, 2026.

Organising burials

Though some bodies have yet to be identified, a court order was issued to begin burials on Thursday, Saïd Mohammed Mohammed, the manager of the Sidi Mbarek Muslim cemetery in Ceuta, said. The "more than 80 bodies” could not all be buried that day due to a lack of resources, he added.

Despite many missing persons notices, calls and photographs, the cemetery manager said he could no longer wait for families to arrive. “There are bodies whose identities are unknown, and we do not know who they are, but our responsibility is limited to burial,” said Mohammed. “We are not responsible for searching for the missing.”

“Even if a person is buried without being identified first, they are assigned a number and have a file in court with all the relevant information. Here at the cemetery, we keep a record of this number. So, if a family comes forward later to claim a loved one, we can look up the number, confirm the identity and transfer the remains,” he said.

'His friend could swim well, but my son couldn't'

In Fnideq, a town in northern Morocco close to the border with Ceuta, Rahali spent almost a week gathering information on the fate of his son Zakaria.

“Zakaria left Tangier with his friend on Throne Day, July 30,” he said. “They were working and, on that day, people started talking about the border being open at Ceuta … The streets were packed. His friend told him, 'Let's go', and they took a taxi to Tétouan (36km south of the border). From there, they continued on foot to the border.”

“When they arrived, they found the crossing – which was said to be open – closed. It was around 1am. They saw a young man near a wall. He told them that people were trying to cross. So they wrapped their phones up to protect them from the water, then went into the sea,” Rahali explained, holding back his tears. “His friend could swim well, but my son couldn't. Once in the water, they were separated by the crowd. His friend came out of the sea, but he couldn't find my son. He looked for him among the migrants, in vain.”

Since then, Rahali has had no news of his son: “His phone rang on Thursday and Friday. But on Saturday, around 10am, the line went dead. To this day, we have no information.” Zakaria, a young Moroccan man, went missing during the latest wave of crossings to the Spanish enclave of Ceuta on July 30 and 31, 2026.

Rahali, overcome with grief, said that he travelled to Tangier and Tétouan, searching hospitals for any clues.

“The police directed me to the place where bodies were transferred. I asked about my son, I gave them his age and his documentation. They told me they were recording fingerprints and conducting analyses to identify people, to know their place of residence and their age.”

But that was to no avail. “Even the people we know whom we asked to look for him in Ceuta haven't been able to tell us anything.”

Social media as a search tool

Since July 31, social media is being used as a tool for searching for missing loved ones. Photos of children and young adults circulate on Facebook, InstagramTikTok and other platforms, along with messages of distress.

Mehdi, 32, has disappeared. His family found a video of him on social media where he can be seen emerging from the sea, his sister Zineb said.

“I checked that he was in the video and I also found another photo published by some young people on Instagram where he's seen among a group of migrants. But 18 days have gone by without any news.”

While the family continues to search for any clues, their mother is living “a very difficult situation, both physically and mentally”, Zineb said.

A special office for missing persons

Spanish authorities in Ceuta have thus created a special office for missing persons which receives reports from families and collects photos and personal information, including distinctive marks such as tattoos, clothing and belongings.

Read more 'We won't go back': Young Moroccan migrants in Ceuta refuse to abandon their European dream

Biological samples are also collected from family members to compare them to the DNA of unidentified bodies. According to Spanish authorities, since the opening of the office, 32 cases of missing persons have been recorded, 29 of which match DNA registered in their database. The first body identification using this method was confirmed on August 5.

Meanwhile, forensic experts from the Spanish Civil Guard are working to compare fingerprints and biological data, with the possibility of sending information about the victims to Moroccan authorities to help identify them. Gharib al-Mahdi, a young Moroccan man who went missing during the mass crossing to the Spanish enclave of Ceuta on July 30 and 31, 2026.

Across the border, for dozens of Moroccan families, time stopped when their children set out to sea.

This article was adapted from the original in Arabic by Simon Feisthauer-Fournet.

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