There's a man who runs a general store in a village in Morocco.

It's surrounded by olive groves and rolling hills.

Every so often, people come down out of those hills and visit his store.

They sometimes come here without shoes because they've been chased.

I give them my shoes.

They have reaped or burned clothing.

Sometimes they have injuries.

I try to give them minor first aid.

The people camping in the hills are migrants from sub-Saharan Africa.

They're here because this village is right across the border from Europe.

A tiny patch of Spain that's actually on the African continent, a city called Melia.

The European Union wants to keep African migrants out,

so the EU has paid the Moroccan government billions to take a hard line.

That's why we agreed not to use the name of the old man who helps the migrants at his general store.

What do the authorities do when they see you help?

It's always a problem for me.

They can't do anything to you.

They'll ask for documents,

take me to the police headquarters until midnight, harass me,

and so why do you continue to offer help even when you know police will harass you for it?

I can't do anything.

Well, I can't stay and do nothing.

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