The United States has been shipping migrants to third-country detention sites under a series of little-known agreements. One of those destinations is Equatorial Guinea, where a rundown hotel on the outskirts of the capital, Malabo, has been repurposed as a holding centre for people the U.S. could not return to their home nations. Over the past months, dozens of former residents of the United States – originating from African states, Cuba and Brazil – have found themselves confined in a building named Hotel Bamy, enduring constant guard surveillance, scarce medical assistance and the threat of forced relocation.
Human-rights observers have warned that the arrangement, funded by a $7.5 million deal signed during the Trump administration, places vulnerable individuals in a legal limbo. The agreement allows the United States to avoid repatriating asylum seekers to countries where courts have warned they could face torture, yet it also transfers them to a regime with a record of arbitrary detention and abuse. As a result, at least 30 U.S. deportees remain trapped in the hotel, fearing retaliation for speaking out about their plight.
Background of U.S. deportations to Equatorial Guinea
Since the policy’s launch, the United States has sent at least 66 people from a mix of African nations, Cuba and Brazil to Equatorial Guinea. The deal, signed under the Trump administration, promised “safe third-country” reception, but the host government has a well-documented history of torture and other human-rights violations, according to the U.S. State Department. Detainees report that armed guards patrol the premises 24 hours a day, and that basic necessities such as fresh clothing, medical care and even consistent access to food are rarely provided. Those with chronic conditions – HIV, diabetes, severe stomach hernias – have been forced to rely on lawyers to smuggle medication, leaving them vulnerable to arbitrary cuts.
September 11 police assault on Ahmed Soliman and Samson Birhane
On 11 September, the situation escalated dramatically. Police officers entered the hotel, seized the two men – Ahmed Soliman, a 31-year-old Egyptian, and Samson Birhane, a 47-year-old Eritrean – and forced bags over their heads before beating them and pushing them down a flight of stairs in full view of other detainees. Witnesses said the officers shouted, “Where is the phone? Where is the phone!” after the men were accused of breaking a mirror. Video footage later released showed officers pointing guns at migrants who tried to use their phones to contact lawyers and the media. After the assault, the two were transferred to a prison in Malabo, where their whereabouts remain largely unknown.
The attack appears to be retaliation for the men’s attempts to document the conditions at Hotel Bamy. Soliman captured video of guards pointing firearms at detainees and of officials forcibly loading people onto a plane bound for Ethiopia – a destination where they could face torture. When the footage reached human-rights lawyers, authorities responded by raiding rooms, confiscating phones and warning the remaining 29 U.S. deportees that they might never see Soliman or Birhane again.
Living conditions at Hotel Bamy and international reaction
Detention at Hotel Bamy has been described as a “human-rights catastrophe” by Bella Mosselmans, director of the Global Strategic Litigation Council, which represents several of the occupants. Detainees say they have not received medical attention since arrival; one suffers a severe stomach hernia that requires regular drainage, yet has been denied any doctor’s visit. Uniforms, food and sanitation are insufficient, and guards have repeatedly threatened detainees with statements like, “You will disappear from the earth. I am the law.”
In May, the United Nations issued a public appeal urging Equatorial Guinea to stop returning deportees to their countries of origin, warning against the practice of refoulement – the expulsion of individuals to places where they could face persecution. Earlier this year, an urgent interim order from the African Commission instructed the government to refrain from forcibly moving detainees. Despite these admonitions, the United States, through Immigration and Customs Enforcement, maintains that once a person leaves ICE custody, the agency bears no further responsibility, describing the transfers as “legal removal to a safe third country.”
Personal histories of the beaten men
Ahmed Soliman grew up in Phoenix, acquiring a green card before a drug-possession conviction stripped him of legal status. A Federal judge later ruled that, because of his sexual orientation, he would face torture if returned to Egypt, yet the Trump-era agreement sent him to Equatorial Guinea instead. Samson Birhane arrived in the United States as a 13-year-old refugee from Eritrea. He lost his status after a robbery conviction in 1988, but a judge similarly found that he would be at risk of torture should he be sent back home. Both men had lived in the United States for decades before being expelled, and their families fear they may never be heard from again.
Human-rights lawyers have sent multiple alerts to the U.S. embassy in Malabo describing threats and violence, but the messages have gone unanswered. As the situation unfolds, the detainees remain isolated, their phones confiscated, and their legal counsel barred from visits. The episode underscores the broader controversy surrounding the United States’ practice of exporting migration challenges to regimes with dubious human-rights records.
