Four days ago, Youssef El Abbas believed he had found a way to recover the life he had lost seven years earlier. Reports were spreading that roughly 400 people had swum from Morocco to the nearby Spanish enclave of Ceuta on the North African coast, about 12 miles (19km) across the Strait of Gibraltar from mainland Spain.

For the 44-year-old Moroccan father of four, it seemed like an unexpected opportunity to return to Spain, the country he had been forced to leave in 2019 after losing his job in Bilbao and, with it, his residency permit.

El Abbas hailed a taxi and travelled to Tétouan, just south of Ceuta. During the journey, he saw social media posts and news updates suggesting that Moroccan authorities were allowing people to move freely toward the border. Unlike those who had crossed the previous night, he believed he could simply reach the frontier by land and then swim a short distance — barely five minutes — into Spanish territory, avoiding formal border controls.

When he arrived in Tétouan, he found the city in chaos. “Young men were rushing through the streets, filling every space,” he recalled. A second taxi took him to Fnideq, the town next to Ceuta. There, he noticed something unusual: the usual police checkpoints and barriers that prevent people without European documents from approaching the border had vanished.

“The Moroccan police were shouting: ‘Go, go! Run to Spain!’” he said. “The night before they were beating people. That morning they were waving us through. It didn’t make sense.”

Amid the crowds, El Abbas observed that only Moroccans were being allowed to pass. “Sub-Saharan migrants were being forced back,” he said.

At 2.45pm on Wednesday, he reached the border. By 3pm, after a brief swim, he was standing on Spanish soil. Others were not as fortunate.

“In just 10 minutes in the water, I saw four bodies floating in Moroccan waters,” he said. “People were dragging them out.” They were among at least 72 people who died, either drowning or being crushed, while attempting to reach the enclave.

El Abbas was one of around 50,000 people who entered Ceuta that week, in what Spain’s prime minister, Pedro Sánchez, described as a breach of the country’s territorial integrity.

Spanish authorities blamed the sudden influx on human-trafficking networks exploiting a recent supreme court ruling. The decision stated that migrants intercepted at sea while trying to enter Ceuta or Melilla — Spain’s other North African enclave — could not automatically be returned under special fast-track procedures.

At the same time, speculation grew that Morocco may have relaxed border controls to express dissatisfaction with Sánchez’s recent visit to Algeria, a country that backs the independence movement in Western Sahara, a territory claimed by Morocco.

Morocco’s ambassador to Spain, Karima Benyaich Millán, stated that Rabat did not support the mass crossing and expressed hope that those who had entered Ceuta would go back.

Government sources in Morocco attributed the surge to criminal organisations and insisted that cooperation with Spain remained strong.

A similar episode occurred in May 2021, when Morocco eased border restrictions during a diplomatic dispute after Spain allowed a Western Sahara independence leader to receive medical treatment for Covid-19. Around 10,000 people crossed into Ceuta in just two days.

For El Abbas, the dream of returning to Spain had never faded. He had spent 14 years there, mostly working in hospitality. Since his deportation in 2019, he has lived in Morocco separated from his wife and four daughters, who remain in Bilbao. He survives on occasional income repairing mobile phones with his father.

“I never stopped thinking about going back,” he said. “In Morocco, I existed, but I didn’t feel alive.”

His return, however, has been mixed with hardship. When he emerged from the sea in Ceuta, a Guardia Civil officer helped pull him ashore. Days later, that sense of relief turned to fear when soldiers surrounded his group and beat them.

“The same hand that helped me out of the water later struck me,” he said.

His experience reflects that of many others. Although more than 48,000 people had returned to Morocco by Friday night, hundreds remained in Ceuta, sleeping in parks, squares and on pavements. For most migrants, leaving the enclave for mainland Spain appears nearly impossible.

Nearby, 17-year-old Said from Casablanca sat on a kerb. He had also rushed to the border after hearing it was open. The excitement quickly faded, leaving him with only a bottle of water and a yoghurt given to him by a local resident.

Said said he was initially taken to a centre for unaccompanied minors, but there was no space available, and he was soon back on the streets. According to a soldier who requested anonymity, authorities — including the military, police and Guardia Civil — were treating unaccompanied minors in the same way as adult migrants, returning many of them to Morocco.

Said and other teenagers said they struggled even to buy food, as shopkeepers and restaurant staff refused to serve them when they realised the boys did not speak Spanish.

Three days after the mass arrival, Ceuta was gradually regaining a sense of routine. By Saturday evening, café terraces were filling again and some shops had reopened. Many residents were helping those still stranded, distributing water, sandwiches, blankets and clothing. Others stopped to ask if they needed assistance or offered to contact family members.

Yet these gestures of solidarity were overshadowed by the arrival of far-right politicians and extremist groups seeking to capitalise on the crisis.

“They want to use our emotions to say they protected Ceuta,” said Malika, a local resident. “We don’t need them here. If they want to defend something, they should do it somewhere else.”

Malika, born in Ceuta to a father who served in the Spanish army, rejected the idea that the city should be defined only by political tensions following the crossings. Still, she acknowledged the strain on a city of just over 80,000 inhabitants. “It would have been overwhelming for any city,” she said.

Fatima Hamed Hossain, a member of Ceuta’s assembly, warned that the crisis had deepened divisions. “What we’ve experienced has created tension between neighbours,” she said. “That is exactly what strengthens the far right.”

As groups of migrants walked back toward the border, Said remained focused on what lies ahead. He hopes to secure a place in a protection centre, spend a year learning Spanish and, once he turns 18, work as a barber. His greatest fear is becoming undocumented and watching that plan fall apart.

Returning to Morocco is not an option he wants to consider. “All I need,” he said, “is one opportunity.”