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Libyan officials have stolen money and phones from fleeing families, but order reigns at Djerba airport despite huge crowds After five days of sleeping in a tent with her husband and 10 children on the Tun isian side of the border with Libya, Saba Rouher was near the end of her ordeal: awaiting her was a check-in desk at Tunisia’s Djerba airport and a flight to Cairo. The 33-year-old Egyptian had spent 11 years working as an agricultural labourer in Libya, but now she was glad to see the back of her adoptive country. At the border crossing, the family had been relieved of their cash and the sim card of their mobile phone by people she identified as Libyan officials, before being waved through with the few possessions they could salvage in the scramble to flee. “On the Libyan side there was nothing,” she said bitterly, hoisting the youngest of her brood on to her hip. “In Tunisia the people welcomed us. They gave us water and food, and a telephone so we could call our families.” Rouher didn’t know who had organised her flight to Cairo, but it is likely to have been one of seven chartered by the UK government, carrying about 1,400 evacuees. The family was heading back to an uncertain future, but she said: “It’s my country and God will help us.” The line in which the Rouhers stood was one of dozens snaking through the Djerba airport departure concourse. Among the thousands desperate to return to places they considered home, despite many years as migrant workers in Libya, were Egyptians, Vietnamese, Chinese, Bangladeshis, Sudanese and Pakistanis. They were the lucky ones; many thousands more were still crammed in camps 150km away on the border, uncertain of when they would be bussed to the airport. According to the UNHCR, the UN refugee agency, there were still about 30,000 more waiting on the Libyan side trying to get into Tunisia. At times it looked as though the airport authorities would be overwhelmed by the crush of people arriving every few minutes in packed buses and coaches. Rows of men slept on blankets on the floor; people crowded round a makeshift distribution kiosk for bread, biscuits, water and milk; suitcases, battered cardboard boxes and overflowing carrier bags were piled up all over the floor. One man, presumably one of the thousands of migrant construction workers in Libya, was still wearing his hard hat. Somehow, order triumphed over chaos. Volunteer marshals directed evacuees to the right queues while others helped those who had lost passports and travel documents in the scramble to leave Libya. Cleaners constantly traversed the concourse, sweeping up rubbish and washing down the toilets. Eleanora Servino, of the International Organisation for Migration, who had been at the airport almost continuously since Sunday and would stay “until we’ve got everyone out”, said there was now an efficient system in place. Evacuees were being registered at the border, she said, and were only brought to the airport when it was known they had a seat on a plane. About 70% of the evacuees were Egyptian and the country’s foreign ministry had a team at Djerba to deal with the flood. “However many we put on planes, there are more coming,” said Nagui Ghaba, a foreign ministry volunteer. Thousands were camped in stadiums and community centres between the border and Djerba, he said. The response of the Tunisian people had been “wonderful”, he said. “People are donating food and providing shelter. Some have gone in their own cars to the border to help with transport.” Inside the food distribution kiosk, George Lathourakis, 55, was swaying on his feet after 21 straight hours of handing out bread and water. “I’m not tired – I’m upset,” he said, gesturing to boxes of biscuits and fruit juice. “Everything you see has been donated by local people. We need more food but we don’t see anything coming from the international community.” The UK government has flown out blankets, tents and other supplies, but after consulting the IOM and UNHCR had concluded that assisting with the airlift was “the most useful thing we could do”, according to Chris Kiggell, a spokesman for the Department for International Development in London. The aim was to have three planes in circulation between Djerba and Cairo at any given time. The effort would go on at least until Sunday, by which time DfID hoped to have airlifted 6,000 Egyptians at a cost of up to £4m. Then, he said, the situation would be reviewed. Andrew Mitchell, the international development secretary, is to visit camps along the Libyan-Tunisian border to make his own assessment. Back at the airport, Ngo The Lien, 28, a Vietnamese builder, said he had been waiting 12 days to leave the region. “I’m going because of the war. People came with guns at night. It was very frightening. I have lost everything.” Abdur Razzak, 25, a Bangladeshi storeman with a building firm in Tripoli, was one of many who reported the theft of money and mobile phones. He had little idea of the causes of the uprising, saying only: “There were two groups fighting and I saw people being killed.” One of few women amid thousands of men, Zhu Yan, 24, a translator with a Chinese railway company, said Libyans had trashed their homes and robbed them. “I am very happy to be going home. We are the lucky ones.” Libya Arab and Middle East protests Middle East Egypt Tunisia Harriet Sherwood guardian.co.uk