Migrant Workers’ Action in support of the Reclaim Our Rights Collective celebrates International Women’s Day with the release of ROR’s Manifesto. The Reclaim Our Rights (ROR) Collective is a coalition created and led by Women Migrant Domestic Workers, community leaders, and activists who advocate and campaign for the abolition of the Kafala system and guaranteeing their rights and freedoms as migrant (domestic) workers in Lebanon.
Migrant Workers’ Action has submitted an Input to the UN Special Rapporteur on Violence Against Women and Girls after a call for submissions by civil society to discuss sexual and gender-based violence in the sex work industry. The Kafala system is enabling sex trafficking and, with it, SGBV against MDWs in Lebanon. Download our briefing to learn more about the issue and read our recommendations to stakeholders and decision-makers.
MWA developed a short brief focusing on the role of the IOM Lebanon Office following several concerns expressed by partner organisations. The brief summarises the challenges and concerns MWA has found through its work with migrant domestic workers, their communities, and CSOs. It aims to shed light on gaps within IOM’s system and work that lead to confusion, as experienced by MDWs in Lebanon. The brief is intended to advise IOM in its work by providing recommendations on current challenges.
On the occasion of International Day For the Abolition of Slavery, MWA is launching its report on the plight of Kenyan Migrant Domestic Workers on their migration journey to Lebanon. The report is the first of MWA’s In-Focus research series committed to providing an in-depth understanding of localised contexts and key drivers of migration in sending countries, leading MDWs to travel to Lebanon, as well as their experiences under the Kafala system in Lebanon.
In light of recent regional developments, MWA has contacted Embassies and Consulates to inquire about potential evacuation plans for Migrants should the situation escalate in Lebanon. We have compiled and saved the series of statements issued in a public Google Drive folder. We encourage the dissemination of this document to all Migrant Domestic Worker communities in Lebanon and recommend following the Embassies and Consulates on Facebook for updates.
Something changed in me my last few months in Lebanon before returning home. It has been almost three years since I returned to Sierra Leone. I arrived a different person, I have taken my fate into my own hands, I am within my own culture, I am organising among my community, I founded DoWAN*, I am fighting and I am rising up against the injustices I faced under the Kafala System in Lebanon.
I have shared my story many times, over and over. But there is something missing from the conversation when we talk about human trafficking. Why are women in the position that they are being trafficked to countries like Lebanon? What situation is so bad that we are risking our lives to then live through the injustices of the Kafala system? It is because people are hungry! The severe effects of the climate crisis, droughts, dying crops and food shortages are starving our communities. Seventy percent of the population in Sierra Leone go without their daily bread. The Government falls short in providing any basic provisions and we are trapped in socio-economic instability.
The climate crisis is indirectly causing our daughters, mothers and sisters to leave their loved ones behind and falling victim to human trafficking. Our community often sees poverty as the main reason to leave our country and the main cause of hardships. But poverty is a symptom of the climate crisis. Powerful systems of oppression are causing a multitude of detrimental social, economic, health, food insecurity and other impacts on communities who have contributed the least to the climate crisis.
When we arrive in Lebanon we become victims of abuse, exploitation and marginalisation. Even while living inside of the employers/sponsors’ homes, we as Migrant Domestic Workers are the first people to suffer from the consequences of the climate crisis and the extreme weather caused by it. We are the most vulnerable part of Lebanese society suffering from the weather and climate in a country that isn’t ours.
In Lebanon we are pushed into living conditions, where we are exposed to extreme heat during the summer months, or to extreme cold and dampness during the winter months. Our ‘rooms’… I never slept in a room in Lebanon. My sleeping place was the kitchen in the village and in the living room in the city and are not equipped with appliances providing comfort such as heaters or ACs. We can count ourselves lucky to be given mattresses.
The climate crisis and government corruption impacting the Lebanese who are suffering from electricity and water shortages is unjust. This has a greater impact on migrants particularly Migrant Domestic Workers in Lebanese homes who are prohibited from drinking clean water, denied battery lamps, and denied a safe ventilated place to sleep. We are expected not to complain or ask for improvement of our conditions that come from the extreme weather conditions, we are considered as ungrateful and greedy. Where none of the employers/sponsors would accept the discomfort of the extreme heat or lack of electricity and clean water, we are expected to do so in silence.
Our advocacy and work as community organizers and as survivors of the Kafala system and human trafficking is always reduced to abuse and we are tokenized as victims in the general discussion surrounding labor migration to the Middle East.
We are more than just victims or survivors, we are experts based on our lived experience. We have the knowledge of our local context and community in our home countries as well as the reality of living as Migrant Domestic Workers in Lebanon.
The research and discussion around the consequences of the climate crisis and its impact leading to migration and human trafficking need to be more inclusive. Current and former Migrant Domestic Workers must be actively involved, implementing and engaged in the discussion.
There are still countless women migrating to Lebanon, some of them aware of what awaits them but many also unaware of what is going to happen to their rights and freedoms once they step out of the aeroplane. This is why there is a need to continue fighting. Looking for a solution to our main problems, the climate crisis, poverty and hunger that led us to Lebanon is the best way out of the Kafala. Despite corruption and policies that are restraining our women we see it vital in taking collective affirmative action to build a socio-economic alternative through our ‘Seeding Solidarity’ project to prevent other women from becoming trapped in the Kafala system.
It is in this context of human trafficking and the global threat of climate collapse and food insecurity that we connect to our land and farming practices through agricultural activism and justice.
The real power is within our activism and our work. There is a world of possibilities and solutions. Climate and social justice are rooted in recognising that to tackle modern day slavery and human trafficking we must address the climate crisis to create real change and a more equitable future.
* DoWAN – Domestic Workers Advocacy Network (and Dowan as in Sisterhood in Krio) was established in 2020 as a community-led effort for returnees in their fight against the Kafala system.
J’ai Peur – Viany
Partout où le mensonge devient la seule façon de convaincre, il y a trafic .
Partout où il y a esclavage il y a trafic.
Ou il y a exploitation il y a trafic.
Ou il y a escroquerie il y a trafic.
J’étais en première année BTS (Brevet de Technicien Supérieur) à l’université de Douala au Cameroun et ma famille m’a parlé du Liban. Elle aussi avait entendu parler du Liban de la voisine et la voisine avait entendu parler du Liban d’une femme qui avait été au Liban et qui est revenu au Cameroun.
(J’aime bien le fait que ça soit moi qui écrive ma propre histoire. Je suis fatigué des mensonges et des gens qui se disent bienveillants et capables de décider pour nous).
Après plusieurs tentatives de me convaincre j’ai accepté de voyager pour le Liban. Sans vraiment savoir ce qui m’attendait.
Le gros argument qui m’abreuvait quand j’avais soif, me soutenait quand couchée au coin de la cuisine le bruit de la machine à laver du frigo et du four fusionnaient et m’empêchait de dormir. Je pensais à cette promesse. Cette promesse que m’avais faite cette femme, le premier maillon de la chaine, celle qui une foie de retour au Cameroun s’est convertie en trafiquante: “tu vas travailler pour 6 mois et avec ton salaire tu pourras dire à ta madame de faire tes papiers pour que tu ailles en France continuer tes études de couture”. Tout mon voyage prenait appui sur cette promesse la. J’avais pris avec moi tous mes diplômes et mes documents qui pouvaient être utiles pour une inscription. J’avais apporté avec moi mes plus belles créations de couture. J’avais apporté aussi mon matériel pour éviter de dépenser trop en fournitures quand je devais reprendre les cours.
Pendant mes 6 premiers mois de contrat j’étais comme dans un coma profond. J’étais concentrée sur le jour où je devais arriver à 6 mois. Je ne voyais rien et ne comprenais rien, je vivais dans le futur. Les maltraitances étaient sans effet. J’avais le corps et le cerveau sous anesthésie.
Mes camarades à l’université au Cameroun et même les professeurs me demandais comment j’allais, mais j’étais concentré sur un objectif plus grand. Tout allait changer après 6 mois.
Et oui… tout à changé après ces 6 mois.
Je me souviens encore de comment ils étaient assis au salon tous les deux un vendredi à 17h00: “Mme, s’il vous plaît, j’ai déjà passé 6 mois chez vous est ce que vous pouvez utiliser mon salaire pour faire mes papiers et me faire voyager pour la France pour que j’aille continuer mes études?” Les regards se mélangent, un silence s’installe pour au moins une minute.
De mon côté, c’était une évidence qu’elle devait dire oui. Je n’avais qu’à prier pour que la procédure soit rapide.
C’est là que ma Madame me demande “Qui t’as dit ça?”. “C’est la fille qui m’a fait venir au Liba[…]. A peine j’ai fini qu’elle m’interrompt. “Tu es venu ici travailler et tu n’as rien a faire a part travailler. Tu ne peux pas sortir sans mon accord. Tu es à moi et si je pouvais c’est moi qui devait aller en France mais pas toi. Ça fait longtemps que j’essaye. Et ça coûte trop cher.”
J’avais 21 ans.
Ce jour là je suis sorti du coma
L’anesthésie était finie.
Place à la réalité du système Kafala.
En toute sincérité même à un Libanais je ne le souhaite pas.
Le système Kafala c’est de l’esclavage et c’est de la traite d’être humain.
C’est lourd à lire et à dire mais c’est vrai ça existe. Beaucoup s’enrichissent et ont une vie de rêve grâce à la souffrance des femmes comme moi. Mais je ne le souhaite à personne, même pas à une Libanaise.
Si chaque victime mettait par écrit son expérience, tu pourras comprendre comment chaque vol qui se pose au sol dans un pays qui applique le système Kafala fait couler des larmes rouges à chaque fois.
Nous sommes mortes tout en étant vivantes.
Tu le sais, et moi aussi tu ne fais rien et moi j’ai peur.
Viany De Marceau
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
I am afraid by Viany
When lies are the only way to convince, there is trafficking.
Where there is slavery, there is trafficking
Where there is exploitation, there is trafficking
Where there is fraud, there is trafficking.
I was in my first year of my college degree at the University of Douala in Cameroon when my family spoke to me about Lebanon. They had also heard of Lebanon from the neighbour, and the neighbour had heard of it from a woman who had been there and came back to Cameroon.
(I like the fact that it is me who gets to write my own story. I am tired of the lies, and of people who pretend to care yet decide for us).
After several attempts to convince me, I accepted to travel to Lebanon. Without really knowing what awaited me.
The biggest argument which quenched my thirst, which gave me strength when I was lying down in the corner of the kitchen with the sound of the washing machine, fridge, and oven – all together preventing me from falling asleep. I would think of the promise. The promise that this woman made to me, the first link in the chain, who after returning to Cameroon became a trafficker herself: “You will work for 6 months and with your salary you will be able to tell the Madame to do your papers and go to France to finish your studies in fashion design”.
My entire trip was based on this promise. I had taken with me all my diplomas and relevant documents that could help with my registration. I had also brought with me all my most beautiful fashion designs and all the sewing material I would need to save some money when I start my course.
During those first 6 months of my contract I was in a deep coma. I was focused on the day the 6 months would arrive. I didn’t see anything nor understood anything. I was living in the future. The abuse I faced didn’t affect me. My body and mind were under anaesthesia.
My university friends in Cameroon and even the professors were asking about me but I was just focused on a bigger goal. Everything would change after 6 months.
And yes… Everything did change after those 6 months.
I still remember how they were seated in the living room, on a Friday at 5pm. “Madame, please, I already spent 6 months with you. Can you please use my salary to do my papers and pay for my trip to France so I can continue my studies?”
Looks were exchanged, and a silence took place for at least one minute.
For me, it was obvious she would say yes. I just had to keep praying for the process to be quick.
This was when my Madame asked me “Who told you this?” “The girl who told me to come to Leba[…]I barely started my sentence, when she interrupted: “You came here to work, and you have nothing else to do but work. You cannot leave without my permission. You are mine. If I could, I would be the one to go to France, not you. I have been trying for a long time and it costs a lot of money”.
I was 21 years old.
That day, I woke up from the coma.
The anaesthesia wore off.
The reality of the Kafala system took over.
In all honesty, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even a Lebanese.
The Kafala system is a form of slavery and human trafficking.
It’s hard to read and to write, but it’s true, and it exists. Many profit from it and have a dream life thanks to the suffering of women like me.
But I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even a Lebanese woman.
If every victim could write about her experience, you could understand how each flight that lands in a country that uses the Kafala system causes many tears of blood, every single time.
We are dead, whilst still alive.
You know it, and me too,
You don’t do anything about it,
And me, I am afraid.
Viany De Marceau
To Muslims, Ramadan is considered the holiest month of the year. One of the ways in which we expand our spirituality during this period is by reflecting on our privileges, the purpose of which is to strengthen our relationship with God and improve our compassion for others. For many people in our community, we think of compassion as something that solely involves donating money to those who live far away from us, and I believe many of us overlook the importance of practicing compassion everyday starting with those who live in our households. This obviously does not reflect the behaviour of all Muslims or all Arabs in any way, but unfortunately, such attitudes are common in countries that employ migrant workers through the Kafala system.
I grew up as a privileged Kuwaiti girl surrounded by migrant domestic workers, and unfortunately, I was not raised to show compassion towards them. During Ramadan, my parents would preach about the importance of being grateful for what we have because some other people do not have our privileges, but they did not consider the fact that they violated this ethos while they mistreated and abused the domestic workers who migrated to our country and worked beyond the point of exhaustion to make our lives easier. The only reason many of us even have a meal when we break our fast at sunset is because of the labour of migrant domestic workers, and this labour is a product of deliberate systemic exploitation by the Kafala system. It seems to me that it is hypocritical to preach the importance of compassion and achieving God-consciousness during Ramadan while we continue to uphold modern slavery, deny migrant workers fair compensation for their labour, and even refuse to treat them as equal human beings who deserve the same rights and dignity that we believe we are entitled to.
There seems to be an assumed superiority over migrant workers in communities that use the Kafala system, which is evident in the fact that we force migrant workers to work in unfair conditions even though we would not accept those working conditions for ourselves. If we – as individuals who benefit from the Kafala system and employ migrant workers through that system – do not accept others to treat us this way, why do we continue to act as though it is okay to mistreat migrant workers in this way?
When our compassion towards others is limited to those who are removed from our lives, we are admitting that we are only interested in caring about or helping others so long as that does not interfere with our privileges. In countries that employ migrant workers through the Kafala system, many nationals who benefit from the Kafala system maintain the belief that employers deserve “ownership” over the lives of migrant workers. As individuals who benefit from the Kafala system, we complain about fasting from dawn to sunset without being mindful of the exhaustion of the domestic workers who live in our households and have to work harder during Ramadan to prepare elaborate meals and serve our extended family members during gatherings, without granting them breaks or any accommodations to their needs. In Kuwait, nationals even complain about racism and Islamophobia from Westerners, while we continue to refuse to allow domestic workers to even eat at the same table as us, regardless of the fact that some domestic workers are Muslim and fasting themselves. These may seem like minor things that we have normalised as a cornerstone of our lifestyle and our culture, but to migrant workers these instances of dehumanisation are a constant reminder that we perceive them to be inferior to us.
While we can freely practice our religion and fast during this holy month, and ahead of Eid celebrations, I invite us to reflect on the fact that we continue to unjustly deprive migrant workers of their religious freedom. Recently in Kuwait, a shop was reported to the Ministry of Commerce for merely having a banner promoting deals for Easter. In many households, including my own, domestic workers and drivers were punished, and in some cases even abused, for asking to go to Church. Of course, the Kafala system permits such deprivations of religious freedom and it shameful to imagine how many migrant workers feel excluded and degraded by our communities as a result of this system.
It should not be controversial to state that migrant workers deserve human rights and dignity, and especially during this holy month, we should reflect on the ways in which we continue to uphold a hierarchy of rights depending on a person’s nationality and practice challenging these systems of oppression to support our migrant worker siblings.