Mariaam Bhatti: Tales of a Domestic Worker
Days and months went by, and nothing changed. I felt they saw me as a machine, not a human being. I worked on bank holidays with no extra pay. I was never given time off, even when I was unwell. I had a terribly sore back for a month, and suffered with a terrible cold, even losing my voice for weeks, but was expected to work as usual as if nothing was wrong.
Come September, my employer asked for my passport. She told me she was going to make a copy and take it to her child’s playschool, saying they needed it to know who was collecting the children from school. What she said made sense to me, so I handed my passport to her. But she didn’t return it to me at the end of the day. Days went by, then a week, and still nothing. I decided to speak up and ask for it back, in case she had forgotten about it. She snapped back: “I always keep passports of the girls who work for me, even the other girl before you, from Mauritius, I kept her passport.”
I knew that wasn’t right. I told her the passport was my personal document, that I knew how important it was to me and how difficult it would be for me to get another one if it got lost. She ignored me.
Two months later, I asked her again if I could ‘borrow’ it back for something very important. This time I stood my ground for the first time. After arguing for some minutes, she finally gave in, but stated angrily: “I want it back as soon as you are done using it.” Deep in my heart, I vowed to myself it was mine! I was not going to give it back to her voluntarily.
Meanwhile, whenever I had the chance to talk to friends and family back home, I did not mention my degrading situation. I didn’t want them to worry for me, but I always broke down in tears alone after talking to them.
Many of my friends were on Facebook. I had never used the site before but I was so lonely and wanted someone to talk to, so I signed up. Much to my surprise, a few days later my employer was requesting to be my Facebook friend. I thought to myself, ‘She can’t even sit and eat in the same room as me but she wants to be my friend on Facebook? Very strange!’ Judging by the relationship we had, I could only find one explanation for her request: it was to keep tabs on me.
Eventually I felt brave enough to tell her that the long hours she demanded of me proved that I could never have the chance to study, even at night, so I was beginning to look for another job so I could be able to go to college in the evenings. Despite how I was treated, I wanted to leave in a dignified manner. And I adored the kids; it would have been unfair on them for me to just leave them like that.
They were innocents who were caught in the middle of all of this. They always made me smile, even when I was sad, and I always looked forward to collecting them from school.
I remember the toddler running into my arms when I went to collect her at the playschool. Pushing her in the pram, she would talk to me though her words were not completely developed, while we hurried to pick up her sister from school nearby.
They were important to me, not that their mother cared much for that…
To be continued...
Mariaam Bhatti is a member of the Domestic Workers Action Group and Forced Labour Action Group of the Migrant Rights Centre Ireland.
