A woman in the Philippines on a housekeeping training course. An estimated 100,000 women from the Philippines work as domestic workers overseas, and many are vulnerable to abuse. Photo: Getty.
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Abuse of women domestic workers in Qatar exposes uncomfortable truths closer to home

A new report from Amnesty International describes how domestic workers in Qatar face abuse and exploitation. The problem isn't just limited to Qatar, however: domestic workers in the UK are similarly vulnerable.

After the controversy surrounding the deaths of construction workers in Qatar, the oil-rich micro-state’s treatment of foreign workers is once again in the spotlight over its mistreatment of migrant labourers. Today Amnesty International has published a report detailing the mistreatment of the  84,000 women, mostly from south and south-east Asia, who are employed to clean the homes and look after the children of wealthy Qataris and expats – a considerable number in a country of just over 2 million people.

Some of the women interviewed by Amnesty have been forced to work over 100 hours a week with no days off, have been subject to sexual and physical violence and have had their pay cut. Domestic workers who are abused have little recourse to justice: under the country’s sponsorship system (known as kafala) they cannot leave their jobs or the country without their employer’s permission – and those who choose to run away from abusive employers risk being detained or deported.

Nor is it easy to report mistreatment. Those who report sexual abuse can be charged with “illicit relations” and face a year in prison followed by deportation, and those who complain of long working hours will face no legal protection:  Qatari law places no restrictions on the amount of hours domestic workers can be asked to work, and there is no requirement that they have a day off.

Although the report focuses on Qatar, it’s worth remembering that the same problem exists elsewhere. According to Human Rights Watch there are around 53 million domestic workers worldwide and “they are among the most exploited and abused workers in the world”. The rights of domestic workers is a global women's rights issue, and one that still doesn't receive enough attention.

One country in which domestic workers are especially vulnerable is the UK. A Human Rights Watch report published in March this year found evidence of some domestic workers in the UK having their passports confiscated, having their pay cut or even stopped altogether and being forced to work 18-hour days, seven days a week.

Each year, the UK hands out 15,000 visas to domestic workers, mainly from Asia and Africa, who arrive in the UK with their employers.  Since 2012, these have been “tied visas” which means that domestic workers seeking to leave their jobs lose their right to remain in the country: either they must return to their home country or they will find themselves staying in the UK illegally. Those who run away from abusive employers face high barriers to seeking legal redress: their immigration status might make them fearful of going to the police, and cuts to legal aid means many will struggle to find legal representation. A government commitment to cut immigration has inadvertently created conditions for domestic workers that isn’t too dissimilar from Qatar’s “kafala” system.

On top of that, the UK is also one of only nine countries that did not sign the International Labour Organisation’s Domestic Workers Convention which came into force in September 2013 and grants domestic workers the same rights as other workers.  And, domestic workers whose employers are diplomats are even more vulnerable, as their employers are shielded by diplomatic immunity.

To offer better protection for these vulnerable workers, Human Rights Watch has called on the UK to change its visa rules, to sign up to the ILO's domestic workers convention and to ensure that domestic workers entering the UK are fully aware of their rights. 

It’s easy to point a finger at Qatar’s human rights abuses – and the issues Amnesty International has raised are very important – but this also means we need to face up to some uncomfortable truths closer to home, something that many find altogether more difficult.

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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Scarred lands: visiting the villages Boko Haram left behind reveals the toxic legacy of terrorism

The progress and challenges of Nigerian communities rebuilding after Boko Haram’s insurgency begins to wane.

“Sometimes it’s when I go to bed that what happened comes back to me.” Two years ago, Boko Haram militants stormed into 23-year-old John Amida’s home late at night in a village in Gwoza, Borno State, northeast Nigeria. Shielding his eyes with his hands from the torchlight saved his life. He shows me the mark in the centre of his forearm where the bullet aimed for his head went instead.

“All my friends were either killed or abducted,” he says. “I don’t try to forget what happened because it’s not possible; it’s with you even when it is not in your mind. The best thing is just to keep on living every day.”

After a broadly effective 18-month military campaign, Boko Haram remains a deadly yet waning force. Many communities once occupied by Boko Haram are now liberated. In Adamawa, just south of Borno, over 630,000 people previously displaced by Boko Haram have returned home.

With them, over 170,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) now live in camps, or – like John and his family – in host communities. He and his family live in a home vacated and lent to them by a local. All over Adamawa, IDPs live in homes shared with residents or given to them temporarily in exchange for help, crops or token sums of rent.

Adamawa is a serene, largely rural, mountainous state. Even deep into the dry season, driving through the roads that cut between its vast countryside, its land is incredibly scenic. But within local communities, in more rural, isolated villages north of the state’s capital, Yola, the picture is more complicated.

Gombi, a small town a few hours’ drive from Yola, was recaptured from Boko Haram in late 2014. Much of what was destroyed in the insurgency – shops and small businesses – have been rebuilt or replaced. The local government buildings have been largely restored. The impact is still visible but, according to locals, decreasingly so.

But in less urban areas, like in Garaha, a village in Adamawa, rebuilt homes sit next to broken, abandoned houses, churches, mosques and buildings blackened by the fires that damaged them. Local government officials say the damage across Adamawa by the insurgency has set the state’s development back by a decade. Funding for rebuilding the state, which local governments complain is insufficient, is concentrated on urban areas.

According to Chief Suleimanu, a traditional ruler in Garaha, mental health issues are widespread but few are financially able to access support. While some people have been able to move on, others are still dealing with the consequences.

“Many couples and families have separated,” he tells me, detailing how in some couples one partner feels attached to their home while the other can’t face returning, or feel there is little to return to.

“The same with the children, some of the young people have gone to bigger cities like Kano or Abuja because of a lack of opportunities.”

Many returnees, who left camps in Cameroon to come back to Adamawa, are from families who have lived in their villages for generations. Their ancestral roots anchor them to their homes because their farmland is their main source of income. Non-agriculture-based industries provide few jobs. For many people, fleeing their homes meant abandoning their livelihoods.

As of 2015, 52 per cent of people in Nigeria lived in rural areas. Their relative isolation is a blessing and a curse. Larger rural spaces provide them with adequate land to cultivate their crops – but it also leaves them exposed.

During Boko Haram attacks on Garaha through to early 2015, there was minimal protection from security forces who often take hours to arrive.

For many people living in rural Adamawa, life is getting harder and easier at the same time. Armed herdsmen, mainly from the Fulani ethnicity have become a greater threat across Nigeria, partly due to tensions between land ownership and cattle grazing.

According to locals, killings by herdsmen have increased this year. But villages are addressing their vulnerability. Armed vigilantes, some of which formed due to the lack of military protection against Boko Haram, are increasing. The police services are often too far away or too under-resourced to protect them. But some vigilantes now have more weapons and vehicles due to help from state services and locals. It is not an ideal solution but it has made places like Garaha safer.

With this new-found relative safety, villagers have begun farming again. With cash grants and donated tools from charities like Tearfund, it has been easier for thousands of people to begin cultivating land. In many villages there are small, lively recreation centres where young people play snooker and watch sport. Many of their places of worship have been rebuilt.

But the situation is grimmer in communities where such charities are not present.  Without resources, state or non-government help, rebuilding is a real challenge.

Adamawa is a state maxing on its credit of hospitality, relative safety and appreciation of agriculture. A recession in Nigeria and a severe food crisis in the northeast have added pressures on returnees and IDPs. Liberated communities will need more help and attention before they truly feel free.

Emmanuel Akinwotu is a journalist based between Lagos and London who writes about Africa, migration, and specialises in Nigeria.