I am the fruit of a loving, caring, and happy family. My father was a great, hard-working farmer and my mother was a housewife. In our hometown Mindanao in the Philippines, farming was the main source of living.
Conflict forced us to evacuate and leave everything in our hometown. We had to start again, from nothing. My father lost his farm. As I became a teenager, our life became more difficult. I stopped studying so I could stay at home and help my mother with household work as she had health issues. I then started working in other homes, babysitting, and working as a vegetable seller in a palengke [market]. I never went back to school again.
I was 23 years old when my journey as a migrant domestic worker started. Our family was dealing with so many financial and health issues, and I thought becoming a migrant domestic worker was the only way to deal with our problems and to gain a better life. But this was a big assumption. The life of a domestic worker is not easy.
Even when I was doing my job properly with determination and anticipation for good treatment or a compliment from my employer, it never happened. Working behind closed doors is the biggest challenge for a migrant domestic worker. It has challenged me physically, in terms of doing hard work, not having enough rest, sleep and food; and mentally because of how my employers treated me. They physically and verbally abused me, but I had to tolerate it because I did not have the courage to fight or complain. They threatened me and said I would go to jail if I did something they did not like or went against them. And I was in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, their country, where all the laws were on their side.
I kept this all to myself and endured it, praying that it would end someday as long as I could provide and care for my parents needs to ease their hardships. In 2023, my employer brought me here to the United Kingdom on their vacation so I could babysit their children. This was without my knowledge or consent, and I travelled to the UK without holding or seeing my passport, even in immigration — my employer has kept my passport with them ever since I came to work for them.
After we came to London, they treated me even worse, and did not give me my wages or allowance. I was forced to work 24 hours a day and became sick because of the lack of proper meals, sleep or rest. The weather here was also new to me, and I did not have the proper clothes to keep myself warm while going out with them to look after their children.
They continuously mistreated me, and always told me whenever we were outside that the police were everywhere, and that if I tried to run away, they would catch me and I would be in trouble because I didn’t have any documents. I believed them because I wasn’t holding any of my own documents, not even my passport. Despite me asking many times, my employer did not give me my wages, so I could not send money back home. I worried about my parents, how were they going to eat? Each time I suffered I reminded myself of my loving parents, they kept me going.
I decided I had to leave if I could find the chance to get out of their house, which was not easy because they always locked the door. One night, in the middle of the night, I succeeded in escaping from them. I had nowhere to go, and was very afraid in case the police caught me and put me in jail. Suddenly, a woman approached me and asked me what I was doing outside at this time. I told her that I was running away from my abusive employer. Without a second thought, she offered for me to come with her and to give me shelter. She looked for a Filipino community that could help me, and found The Voice of Domestic Workers (VODW), an organisation that campaigns for the rights of fellow migrant domestic workers.
Through talking with them, I learned that after six months my visa would expire and that I would be completely undocumented and lose my right to work. It was not easy for me to escape from my abusive employer and to then be unfairly trapped in the UK’s inhumane immigration system.
VODW brought me to the police station before my Overseas Domestic Worker Visa expired. I was assessed through the National Referral Mechanism (NRM), a framework for identifying and referring potential victims of modern slavery and ensuring they receive the appropriate support. I was found to be a potential victim of modern slavery and trafficking. Now, I can continue working while I continue to improve my mental well-being through the on-going counselling sessions provided by VODW.
I don’t know how long the complicated process of the NRM will last, or when I will find out if I have the right to leave to remain, but I’m here to stand up and speak out for the rights and welfare of migrant domestic workers. We are essential workers too with the right to decent working and living conditions.
About the Author
Fahima is a daughter to loving parents who raised her through farming in Mindanao, Philippines. Her family was forced to flee when the internal war conflict between the Government and New People’s Army erupted. She first worked abroad in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia that led her to the UK. She is now part of the team-members of the Education Working group of VODW.
Fahima is part of the Future Voices programme, a unique leadership and training programme run in partnership between the Voice of Domestic Workers and Sounddelivery Media equipping a new network of migrant domestic workers with the knowledge, skills and confidence to share their stories, influence public opinion and advocate for change.