‘I don’t know where to go’: Migrant domestic workers left on brink of destitution
“They said I had to leave. I was terrified,” says Kamal*, her voice trembling. The Indian national has been a live-in domestic worker in various British households since 2005, but in mid-March her employment was terminated. “I said where can I go in this lockdown situation? They said they didn’t care where I went,” she adds quietly.
Kamal, who is in her fifties, is one of many domestic workers in Britain whose lives have been thrown into disarray during the lockdown. She is lucky in that she has been taken in by a friend, so is not out on the streets. But her visa is due to expire in early May, and without employment, she is not eligible to renew it –
which will make her undocumented. She’s been desperately trying to find another job, but anyone who has shown interest has said they will only employ her once the lockdown is lifted.
“I’m so afraid,” she tells The Independent. “Finding a job is my top priority, and that’s causing me a lot of anxiety. It’s impossible to find one at the moment. If my friend had not offered me a place to stay, I have no idea where I would have gone and what would have happened to me.”
Kalayaan, a London-based charity supporting migrant domestic workers, warns that potentially thousands of migrants who had been working legally before the lockdown on overseas domestic worker (ODW) visas are suddenly on the brink of destitution, as their employers order them to leave amid economic difficulties or fear of contracting the virus.
The charity says it is not uncommon for these workers to be forced to work excessively long hours, without proper breaks and with pay below the national minimum wage, but many put up with this because they are still earning a better living than they would in their home country, and they are often the breadwinners for families back home. However, the coronavirus pandemic has suddenly made them considerably more vulnerable.
Many people on ODW visas have a “no recourse to public funds” condition attached to their UK status, which means they cannot apply for universal credit or any other form of welfare benefit; nor can they be safeguarded by any of the measures the government has so far introduced, such as the furlough scheme or statutory sick pay.
The Home Office has said that migrant workers whose visas would have expired after 24 January 2020 and cannot return home can extend their visa without having to meet the eligibility criteria, but Kalayaan says it is unclear whether this applies to Kamal and other domestic workers in her position. Even if she were granted an extension, the charity says, with no recourse to public funds she would remain in this situation of being unable to find work until the lockdown is lifted.
Kamal says she is terrified that, should she fall sick from either the coronavirus or any other illness, she would not be treated in hospital. She says the thought of going back to India had crossed her mind, until she discovered that travel restrictions meant that was not possible. She is worried for her three children there, to whom she usually sends money but who will now be deprived of this support.
“I’m the sole breadwinner for my family back in India. Since this has happened, I’ve not been in a position to send any money home. My earnings pay for rent, groceries and education for my children. They have no other source of income. I’m worried that if I don’t work, I don’t earn, how am I going to support myself, and my family?”
Another migrant worker whose life has been devastated by the pandemic is Daniel, 44. The Filipino national arrived in the UK in July 2018, and had been a live-in carer for a disabled man for nine months – paid £150 a week – until last Tuesday when he was dismissed with no explanation.
Unlike Kamal, Daniel does not have a visa and is undocumented, having arrived to this country on a tourist visa and then been offered work as a carer and overstayed. Now unable to work, he doesn’t know how he is going to survive. “I was stunned, terrified,” he tells The Independent, explaining how he felt when his employer told him to leave. “I didn’t know what to think, or where to go. Would I be sleeping in the street? I didn’t know if I’d be safe, because of the virus.”
Fortunately, Daniel has been helped by the Kanlungan Filipino Consortium charity, which has helped him find a temporary living arrangement with a Filipino family, two hours from where he had been working. It is only a temporary measure, however. “I don’t have any money or income. It’s impossible to find work, and I can’t stay with the family for much longer. I’ll probably have to leave just after the lockdown ends, and I don’t know where I’ll go,” he says, adding that he fears for his elderly mother who lives alone back in the
Philippines, and who relies on his income. Asked about his future, Daniel begins to cry, sobbing: “I really don’t know. I really don’t know.”
Susan Cueva, of Kanlangun, says Daniel’s situation echoes that of many other Filipinos in the UK who are working without formal immigration status, and have now been dismissed and left with nowhere to live and no money – leaving them in potentially very precarious situations. “We’re hearing that some people are now being forced into prostitution because there’s nothing else,” she explains. “They don’t know how to find support. They can’t go to social services. They’re too afraid to even go to a food bank. People will exploit them because of their vulnerabilities.”
Susan says the charity, which supports vulnerable Filipinos in Britain, has already had about 100 people approach them appealing for help after falling into dire straits during the lockdown, usually due to termination of employment. “One of the biggest difficulties is housing and accommodation,” she says. “They say they’ve been kicked out by their employer, and then they don’t have a place. Often they’ve lived there for months or years, and suddenly they’re out on the streets.”
Calling for action from government to protect these communities by lifting these restrictions on undocumented people, she adds: “Not a lot is being said about this group because they’re a hidden workforce, but they contribute to society. They often support vulnerable people, looking after the elderly and people with disabilities or health issues. The damage being done to these workers is just unfathomable.”
Avril Sharp, policy and casework officer at Kalayaan, says migrant domestic workers have been the “forgotten workforce in this health pandemic”.
“Employed behind closed doors, they are working increased hours for lesser pay and are subject to physical and psychological abuse but do not complain for fear that they will end up without a job, an income or a place to stay,” she says.
She calls on ministers to “act now” to protect this workforce against “unscrupulous” employers by granting an automatic extension of leave for ODW visa holders in the UK for six months, and access to public funds to ensure that no one is faced with having to remain in an abusive situation or face destitution during the pandemic.
A Home Office spokesperson said: “We have been very clear that workers whose visas would have expired after 24 January 2020 and cannot return home can extend their visa. Nobody should find themselves destitute and there is support available for people who cannot normally access public services or funds, including protection for renters and those on zero-hours contracts.”
* Some names have been changed