Morocco's biggest European export: people

The fact that so many Moroccans dream of leaving significantly threatens Morocco's economic development, social well-being, and political stability. "Every year Morocco loses two to three percent of its GNP to brain drain," says Lahlou. "Every year we lose between 3,000 and 5,000 professors, doctors, and engineers annually."

This loss means fewer well-educated, ambitious citizens who could help lead their country. But there is an irony here, for if through emigration Morocco loses capital in some forms, it gains it through the money its emigrants send back to their families. Indeed, the International Monetary Fund reports that a full 9 percent of Morocco's GNP comes from remittances - a percentage far greater than the 1.66 percent sent home by Mexicans working in the US.

This dilemma may help explain why the Moroccan government can seem ambivalent about its policy on illegal emigration. "We don't have oil," says Nouzha Chekrouni, Minister for Moroccans Living Abroad. "Our greatest resource, our most valuable export, is our human potential. Europe needs our emigrants."

At the insistence of many European countries, however, Morocco has stepped up efforts to control what it terms "clandestine emigration." Chakri Draiss, Morocco's civil governor in Laayoune, notes that in his region alone, 4,000 illegal emigrants were captured in the first six months of the year. "We've also created mixed patrols with the Spanish Civil Guard so that the Spanish can see our efforts."

Ms. Chekrouni, however, sees economic development as the key to curbing illegal emigration, and she says that Europe's crackdown is counter-productive. "Security is not the only answer," she says. "It only increases the efforts of the mafia who traffic in immigrants."

For its part, Spain recently adopted a policy of returning to Morocco within 24 hours all apprehended illegal immigrants. But since the policy applies to adults only - minors can stay - the number of Moroccan immigrant minors in Spain has skyrocketed.

On his first day in Spain, Omar was picked up by a lawyer who drove him to an immigrant asylum center. Eventually he landed at La Merced, a center in Madrid supported by a religious order and run by Father Pérez, who ensures the home's residents - immigrants under 18 - learn Spanish, acquire vocational skills, and achieve the ability to navigate Spanish culture.

Today, Omar (who didn't want his last name published) has residency papers and works as a gardener. He is not wholly enamored of his job and hopes one day to have his own business. Now 21, he appreciates the freedoms that Spain offers - especially when it comes to going out at night and meeting girls. But he misses his family, and he often wonders if he made the right choice.

"If I knew then what I know now," he says wistfully, "I wouldn't have come. I would have stayed there and finished my studies."

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