Tatiana Kanga, 25, takes her children Chantel, 3, and Antoni, 7 months, on a walk through the city of Malaga, in southern Spain. The family migrated to Spain from their native Cameroon, in West Africa, by crossing the Mediterranean Sea in an inflatable boat. Kanga was nine months pregnant with Antoni at the time.

Tatiana Kanga, 25, takes her children Chantel, 3, and Antoni, 7 months, on a walk through the city of Malaga, in southern Spain. The family migrated to Spain from their native Cameroon, in West Africa, by crossing the Mediterranean Sea in an inflatable boat. Kanga was nine months pregnant with Antoni at the time.

Lauren Frayer/NPR

Tatiana Kanga was nine months pregnant and had her 3-year-old daughter in tow when she set out from her native Cameroon, headed for Spain.

Kanga's journey took her and her young daughter, Chantel, across the continent northward to Morocco. From there, they crossed the Mediterranean Sea in a rubber dinghy.

"It was an inflatable boat, with 17 people," Kanga explains. "Seven of them were women, three children — and six of the women were pregnant, including me."

Kanga was on the verge of giving birth to her second child, Antoni, when she risked her life to get to Europe.

In the past week, some 1,800 people have drowned in the Mediterranean after their boats capsized, collided or ran aground, en route to Europe.

The tragedies have drawn attention to waves of migration that have been pounding Europe's southern shores for years. Boats arrive almost daily in Spain, Italy and Greece, overloaded with Arabs, Africans and others searching for a better life in Europe. Tens of thousands are believed to have survived the Mediterranean crossing this year.

Kanga, 25, landed in Spain eight months ago.

"We set off at 4 o'clock in the morning from Morocco," she says. "We could see Spain, but we had so many problems. By 8 a.m., the motor broke. I thought we were going to die. It was so hot. I brought some cookies and orange juice, but we didn't have enough drinking water for 17 people."

Miraculously, she says, they made it. They washed up on a Spanish beach after a 14-hour journey, just as their raft began deflating. Baby Antoni was born weeks later at a Spanish hospital nearby.

The family now has temporary housing — a single room with bunk beds — at a refugee center in Malaga, on Spain's Mediterranean coast.

Many pregnant women and children are among the migrants from the Middle East and Africa seeking a better life in Europe. Here, Spanish Red Cross members help a pregnant woman rescued from a small boat traveling near Tarifa port in Cadiz, southern Spain, on Feb. 27.

Many pregnant women and children are among the migrants from the Middle East and Africa seeking a better life in Europe. Here, Spanish Red Cross members help a pregnant woman rescued from a small boat traveling near Tarifa port in Cadiz, southern Spain, on Feb. 27.

A. Carrasco Ragel/EPA/Landov

In Spain, migrants' chances of staying in Europe depend on where they're originally from, where they land, and what reasons they give for wanting to stay on the continent. Some enter Spain through two Spanish enclaves in North Africa, Ceuta and Melilla.

Others come by boat or rubber raft, crossing the Straits of Gibraltar where Kanga did. At less than 9 miles across, it's the narrowest point between Europe and Africa, at the mouth of the Mediterranean.

On Wednesday, Kanga pushed a donated stroller past tourists sunning themselves on Malaga's shoreline, on her way to take her 7-month-old to a local hospital for a medical checkup. The family gets free health care through Spain's public system, while Kanga waits for working papers — or possibly to be deported.

"Maybe it's hard for white, Western Europeans to understand why a pregnant woman, with her toddler in her arms, would risk her life in a rubber raft," says Francisco Cansino, who directs the Malaga chapter of the Spanish Commission for Refugee Help, which runs the shelter where Kanga is staying. "But the concept of 'life' isn't the same in Spain and Africa. It's not the same for someone who has absolutely nothing — or who's escaping conflict and war."

Kanga would not talk about why she fled Cameroon. But she has no doubt that Europe is the best place for her now.

"It's Europe!" she says, beaming. "I didn't know what would happen that morning when I got in the boat, but I was determined to live without fear."

Like many migrants, Kanga paid traffickers. In her case, it was a Moroccan man. And like many migrants, she said she was too scared to identify him, fearing retribution.

"He charged me 1,200 euros (about $1,290) — 1,000 for me and 200 for my daughter," Kanga says. "She cost only 200, because she takes up less space."

Back at the refugee center, Cansino sees the daily human drama of migrants arriving in Europe and suggested some advice for politicians meeting Thursday to discuss the matter in Brussels.

"Don't forget that these are people," he says. "That's what's fundamental. Leaders ... can lose perspective. The stories of suffering and hope — they're not present in their lives like they are here."

Copyright 2015 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Transcript

MELISSA BLOCK, HOST:

Spain is another destination for the overcrowded boats of migrants. Lauren Frayer traveled to Spain's southern coast to meet a woman who risked the journey across the Mediterranean Sea.

LAUREN FRAYER, BYLINE: (Speaking Spanish).

CHANTEL: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: Tatiana Kanga's 3-year-old daughter speaks Spanish already.

CHANTEL: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: Tatiana took her toddler, Chantel, from their native Cameroon last year and spent months crossing Africa to reach Morocco. Then they crossed the Mediterranean on a rubber dinghy.

TATIANA KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: "It was an inflatable boat with 17 people," she explains, "seven of them women, three children, and six of the women were pregnant, including me." Tatiana was nine months pregnant with her second child, Antoni, when she risked her life to get to Europe.

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: "We set off at 4 o'clock in the morning from Morocco," she says. "We could see Spain, but we had so many problems. By 8 a.m. the motor broke. I thought we were going to die. It was so hot. I brought some cookies and orange juice, but we didn't have enough drinking water for 17 people."

Miraculously, she says, they made it, washing up on a Spanish beach 14 hours later just as the raft began deflating. Baby Antoni was born weeks later at a Spanish hospital.

ANTONI: Mama.

FRAYER: I met Tatiana and her kids at a refugee center in Malaga on Spain's Mediterranean coast.

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

CHANTEL: (Speaking Spanish).

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

CHANTEL: (Speaking Spanish).

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: We push a donated stroller past tourists at the beach on our way to a medical checkup for baby Antoni. The family gets free healthcare through Spain's public system while Tatiana waits for working papers or possibly to be deported. Francisco Cansino is her caseworker.

FRANCISCO CANSINO: (Through interpreter) She really risked her life, and maybe it's hard for white Western Europeans to understand why a pregnant woman with her toddler in her arms would risk her life in a rubber raft. But the concept of life isn't the same in Spain and in Africa. It's not the same for someone who has absolutely nothing or who's trying to escape conflict and war.

FRAYER: Tatiana would not talk about why she fled Cameroon. I asked her why she came here.

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: "I came because it's Europe," she says, laughing nervously. "I didn't know what would happen that morning when I got in the boat, but I was determined to live without fear." Like many migrants, Tatiana paid human smugglers.

KANGA: (Speaking Spanish).

FRAYER: "Of course you've got to pay," she says. "He charged me 1,200 euros - 1,000 for me and 200 for my daughter. She cost only 200 because she takes up less space." Back at the refugee center, Francisco Cansino sees the daily human drama of migrants arriving in Europe. I ask him what he'd like to tell the politicians at tomorrow's summit in Brussels.

CANSINO: (Through interpreter) I'd tell them, don't forget these are people. That's what's fundamental. Leaders on that level - they can lose perspective. The stories of suffering and hope - they're not present in their lives like they are here.

FRAYER: For NPR News, I'm Lauren Frayer in Malaga, Spain. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

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