BEIRUT, Lebanon – When the nine African women lost their jobs as domestic workers in Saudi Arabia due to the coronavirus blockade, the recruiting agency put them in a bare room with a few thin mattresses and closed the door.
Some have been there since March. One is now six months pregnant but does not receive maternity care. Another ripped off her clothes in a fit of distress, so the agency chained her to a wall.
Women receive food once a day, they said, but they do not know when they will leave, much less will they be able to return to their countries.
“Everyone is afraid,” said one of the women, Apisaki, from Kenya, via WhatsApp. “The atmosphere here is not good. No one will hear our voice. “
Families in many Arab countries depend on millions of low-paid workers in Asia and Africa to drive their cars, clean their homes, and care for their children and elderly relatives in conditions that human rights groups have long said allow exploitation and abuse.
Now, the pandemic and associated economic crises have exacerbated these dangers. Many families will not let their housewives leave the house, fearing that they will bring the virus back, while demanding that they work more as entire families stay home, workers’ advocates say.
Other workers have been fired, deprived of wages and left far from home with nowhere to go for help.
In Lebanon, employers have deposited dozens of Ethiopian women in front of their country’s consulate in Beirut because they could no longer pay for them as the economy exploded.
The Persian Gulf countries alone had nearly four million domestic workers in 2016, more than half of them women, according to a study for the Abu Dhabi Dialogue, which focuses on migrant work in the region. Experts say the actual number has since increased and is likely to be much higher.
Hundreds of thousands of foreign housewives and babysitters work in other Arab countries, including Lebanon and Jordan, giving the Arab world the largest number of migrant domestic workers in any region, according to the International Labor Organization.
Most come to the Middle East through recruitment agencies and are employed under a sponsorship system that links their residency status to their jobs, giving their employers tremendous power. In many cases, they cannot resign without losing their residence, or moving to new jobs, or leaving the country without the permission of an employer.
And in practice, many employers confiscate workers’ passports and deprive them of free time, say human rights groups. Some prevent them from using cell phones or the internet. Physical and sexual abuse is common.
The combination of their gender, the sponsorship system and their isolation. It makes domestic workers especially vulnerable, said Vani Saraswathi, associate editor at Migrant-Rights.org, an advocacy group.
“You have this person who controls all your movements, and you’re at his house 24-7,” he said, “so imagine what kind of power it gives them.”
The alarm among these workers increased when Covid-19, the disease caused by the coronavirus, spread throughout the Middle East and shook the economies on which many immigrants depend.
“Even in cases of extreme abuse, workers hesitate to leave their employers as they fear being completely homeless,” said Saraswathi.
Dozens of Kenyan women in Saudi Arabia have complained of “not enough food, they are not resting, violence, they have even been threatened, trapped and monitored,” said Ruth Khakame, president of the Kudheiha National Council of Domestic Workers, a union in Kenya. . “You are denied use of your phone. So you are fighting, you are alone and you have nowhere to go. “
Fear of contagion has disrupted relationships between many domestic workers and their employers. Some who used to have breaks when their employers left for the office now have to serve and clean up after entire families stayed home all day. Other families distrust their workers as possible vectors of the virus.
“From the beginning, my employers were not friendly,” said Justine Mukisa, 33, a Ugandan who works in Oman. But during the pandemic, her salary of about $ 180 a month has been cut in half, her workload has increased, and her employers have become hostile.
“Before the coronavirus, we sometimes played with children,” he said. “Now this is not allowed. My employers don’t want me to touch their food or feel close to them. “
In recent years, several countries have passed regulations regarding domestic workers, granting them one day off per week, annual or semi-annual leave, and an end-of-service benefit based on length of employment.
Qatar has closed the working day at 10 am, the United Arab Emirates and Kuwait at 12 pm and Saudi Arabia at 3 pm. Kuwait has a monthly minimum wage of approximately $ 195 for domestic workers. Kenyans in Saudi Arabia are supposed to earn at least $ 375 a month plus benefits, and the Philippines has set a $ 400 minimum wage for its citizens in all countries.
As the coronavirus has spread, Bahrain, Kuwait and the Emirates have facilitated visa renewal for stranded migrants to help them avoid fines and arrests if their residence status expires. Qatar and Saudi Arabia have announced free treatment for migrant workers receiving Covid-19.
But worker advocates say enforcement of regulations is often patchy and those facing abuses have few resources.
“The way these countries have refined this available work system lends itself to a high level of exploitation,” said Mustafa Qadri, executive director of Equidem, a UK-based labor rights organization.
Those who contract the virus can easily be dismissed by their employers.
Two months ago, Hanico Quinlat, a Filipino domestic worker in Saudi Arabia, suffered a severe headache and moved to her agency’s shelter to recover. When she tested positive for Covid-19, the agency supervisor locked her alone in a room, giving her only pain relievers and vitamin C to treat her illness.
“When they give us food, they throw it into the room,” Ms. Quinlat said by phone from the room where she was being held. “We are people, not animals.”
Among the most vulnerable workers are women who have fled their employers or have entered countries on tourist visas, hoping to be self-employed.
Kelleh Njoki, 25, came to Dubai from Kenya as a tourist in February in search of work, but soon discovered she was pregnant. Now she is sleeping in a crowded private bedroom and cannot afford maternity care or a $ 400 repatriation flight.
“I am seven months pregnant; How am I going to have my baby here? she said in a phone interview. “I’m stuck. I’m confused. I really need help.”
For Apisaki, the Kenyan woman locked up with eight other women in the Saudi capital, Riyadh, the problem started when she left her job last month after being unpaid for months and returned to her recruitment agency, she said.
She was soon held with others from Kenya and Uganda who also had no job and no way to get home due to the closure, and because the agency had taken their passports.
The New York Times verified the details of the women’s confinement through interviews with two women in the room, including Apisaki, who is identified only by her middle name for her safety, and videos she shared showing her conditions.
The women are in a single room whose only sunlight comes from a small window that was recently closed with duct tape. They share a toilet, wash clothes in the sink, and cook one meal a day when the agency leaves food. The pregnant woman hasn’t seen a doctor in months, Apisaki said, and the woman who took off her clothes spent weeks naked on the tile, her arm chained to the wall.
Newcomers are not tested for the coronavirus, which can endanger others in a country that registers thousands of new cases daily.
For Kenyan women, the agency that recruited them in Kenya is responsible for helping them return to their homes. But the agency that recruited Apisaki no longer answers her phone or responds to messages, she said.
Last week, the Kenyan embassy in Riyadh announced a possible repatriation flight to Nairobi, but said travelers had to prove they did not have Covid-19, buy a $ 525 ticket, and quarantine once at home.
But Apisaki cannot be tested or fly if he cannot leave the room, and his efforts to reach the embassy have failed, he said.
The women said they had been locked up by their Saudi agency, Almuhait Recruitment. She did not respond to requests for comment Sunday.
In an email response to questions, Peter Ogego, Kenya’s ambassador to Saudi Arabia, said he was alarmed by the “serious allegations” of the detention of women and that he would work with the Saudi government “to bring justice to the victims. and address them. ” loopholes and any underlying cause. “
But he said it was Saudi Arabia’s job to ensure the safety of foreigners working there, and questioned Apisaki’s inability to communicate with embassy officials.
“Much of our work is dedicated daily to addressing such allegations to a large extent,” he wrote.
After The New York Times contacted the Almuhait Recruitment about the situation of women on Sunday, Apisaki told an associate outside of Saudi Arabia that several of the women, including the pregnant woman, had been rushed to a hospital for medical check-ups and Covid-19 tests.
“They cannot retain women without any rights,” said Apisaki. “I don’t have sun on my body, I don’t have room to stretch my legs, walk or exercise. These are the things that drive my brain crazy. “
Ben Hubbard reported from Beirut, Lebanon, and Louise Donovan from London. Hwaida Saad contributed reports from Beirut. This article is a collaboration between The New York Times and The Fuller Project, a journalistic nonprofit organization that reports on global issues affecting women.
