Bakary Jaiju was 19 when he climbed into a wooden boat in the Gambia and set out for Europe. He would be at sea for seven frightening days as his supplies of food and water gradually ran out.
"You can't even sleep in case you fall in," he recalled, now in Tenerife after finally reaching the Canary Islands late last year in search of a "better life".
"I decided to go, whether I survive or I die, because I want my family to be in a good condition," said Jaiju, explaining why he left his wife and baby behind and risked the treacherous waters of the Atlantic.
In the few months since he reached this southernmost tip of Europe, hundreds of others have died trying.
It is their plight, and the dramatic stories of those who do make it, that Pope Leo will highlight during his visit to the Spanish islands which began in Gran Canaria on Thursday.
The Pope's focus is a clear counterpoint to talk elsewhere of a migration "crisis" and an "ideological invasion".
Data from the UNHCR show the number of migrant arrivals by sea to Spain has fallen significantly this year, partly due to increased interceptions off the West African coast funded by the EU.
But many are still trying - and dying.
So Pope Leo will stress the need for alternative "safe and legal pathways" to Europe but also appeal for a humane approach and "respectful welcome" for those who pay smugglers and are then packed into the most basic of boats.
In Gran Canaria, he will drop flowers into the waves in memory of the migrants who never made it, including entire boatloads that disappeared without trace.
Bakary Jaiju sees himself as one of the lucky ones.
First, his boat with around 160 people on board, including women and children, managed to evade the extra naval patrols off Mauritania and Senegal. Days later, they ran out of fuel only to be spotted and rescued off the tiny Spanish island of El Hierro.
He then spent three "very cold, very difficult" months in a migrant camp in Tenerife until he joined a project helping him to learn Spanish and find a way to stay on the island legally.
The driving force behind that is Padre Pepe, a chatty parish priest in jeans and checked shirt rather than a dog collar.
He realised the number of young migrants on the island was growing, but local authorities only looked after them until they turned 18. From then on, they were on their own.
"But the streets will eat you up, young people are like carrion there," said Padre Pepe.
The Good Samaritan Foundation now offers accommodation and all kinds of workshops to about 170 young men. "The labour market could absorb all these people, there is huge demand," the priest insists.
"It's hard for me to understand why the human heart is so hard," is the priest's take on toughening attitudes in Europe to migration. "If we do it well, integrate people well, there is nothing bad in it at all. Quite the contrary."
Bakary Jaiju's own route to residency has been eased by a rare opportunity.
Pedro Sánchez's government in Madrid is currently allowing hundreds of thousands of undocumented migrants to "regularise" their status, so anyone who arrived before last December can apply for residence and work permits.
Padre Pepe's team are scrambling to help everyone submit their paperwork before the deadline.
The one-off move has been criticised by Spain's opposition.
The conservative Popular Party has condemned an "irresponsible" move that goes against all EU immigration policies. And the far-right Vox party has called it an "invasion" that would attract more migrants to the country and cause the "collapse of the health service, housing and security".
For the Socialist government, though, the move is a mix of the humanitarian, pragmatic and political: with an ageing, shrinking population it needs more workers – like all of Europe.
"We couldn't find local people who wanted to work with us," said Diana del Molino Rodriguez at the Domingo Alonso Group workshop in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria.
Unable to recruit bodywork painters or panel beaters, the car firm hooked up with the local government to hire young migrants once they turn 18 and leave state care.
Molino Rodriguez says they faced fierce criticism initially, with social media comments about people "stealing" Spanish jobs: "It was a really hard thing to do because immigration was not something seen as positive. Nobody was looking at migrants like persons."
Her firm now has around 30 people on its books, including 19-year-old Tiene Lama, who says he's able to send several hundred euros each month back to his family in Ivory Coast.
Dozens of companies, including big hotel chains on the holiday islands, have now signed up to the scheme.
As the Pope pushes against the tide, trying to change the tone on migration, a new EU pact kicks in this week aimed at tightening Europe's borders still further.
The idea is to make it easier to detain and deport those arriving by sea.
For young men like Bakary Jaiju, already prepared to risk everything, it is little deterrent; for human rights groups it brings new fears for asylum seekers and their struggle to be heard.
But it is officials on the Canary Islands, where that policy should play out, who are most damning.
"We have no-one to work in the hotels, drive our buses or work in construction; we don't have masons or mechanics," warns Francis Candil, deputy minister for welfare.
"What we need is a real migration policy that means people from African countries don't have to risk their lives but can come to Europe and have options for work."
"Instead, we have Europe trying to protect itself behind walls - and to expel people."
