Caught in Lebanon’s modern day slavery system, her only hope was Jesus
By Ghinwa Akiki
December 19, 2024
Editor’s Note: Thimar recognizes that many families provide their domestic migrant workers with respectful and supportive environments. However, it is equally important to shed light on the experiences of those who face significant challenges and injustices. This article explores the complexities of the kafala system, acknowledging both powerful stories and the urgent need for reform to address its shortcomings.
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On an Autumn afternoon in an impoverished neighborhood in Beirut, Hayat* and her Ethiopian friends sat in their living room, each reading her Bible. Hayat read her favorite story from John 4, which tells the story of the Samaritan woman who encountered Jesus at Jacob’s Well and received the water of life. Holding a Bible translated in Amharic, Hayat shared with Thimar how the story reminded her of her own — one filled with hardships yet sustained by God’s grace.
The house attested to the challenges she faces as a migrant domestic worker in Lebanon. Eleven women shared the tiny house with its one bedroom, small kitchen, and a bathroom with no light. A couple months prior, seven women had lived in the house, but the number of occupants increased after the war between Hezbollah and Israel escalated in September and airstrikes across Beirut and other parts of the country displaced more than a million people, including migrant workers.
Hayat had just returned from her pastor’s office, where she picked up a food box and hygiene essentials provided by Thimar’s relief and development ministry, MERATH. The aid was helpful for Hayat, who, like many other migrant workers, has been unemployed since September.
“Because of the war, many Lebanese who used to hire us to clean their houses have left the country,” Hayat said. “Another reason is that people are hesitant to hire undocumented people, because they don’t trust us, which we understand.”
The war in Lebanon has made life harder for Hayat and many of the other 176,000 migrant workers estimated to be in the country. But her hardships, like those of other migrant women, began long before conflict flared up between Hezbollah and Israel.
From Ethiopia to Lebanon
In October 2015, Hayat, then only 16 years old, landed at Beirut’s International Airport after a four-hour flight. With a group of other Ethiopian women, none of whom she recognized, Hayat was led in a line to a small, foul-smelling room where she and the other women were to wait for their employers to pick them up.
“I stayed there from 1 a.m. till the next afternoon when finally, my employer’s daughter showed up,” Hayat said. “The first thing she did was take my passport.”
Hayat, who had come to Lebanon with forged identification documents that showed her age as being older, was then forced to sign a contract written in Arabic, a language she had never heard or seen before. She wasn’t allowed to ask any questions. Only recently did Hayat discover that the contract gave her employer the right to confiscate her passport until the end of the contract.
Thus marked Hayat’s inception into Lebanon’s controversial kafala (sponsorship) system, a migrant labor system often described as the equivalent of modern-day slavery. While some workers do end up in caring workplaces and homes, the system is notorious for regularly subjecting migrants, most of them women from African and Asian countries, to abuse, discrimination, and exploitation.
Hayat would not find the better life she had been promised nor the opportunity to earn money for her family still living in Ethiopia. But at that moment, Hayat knew very little about what she had been roped into. Indeed, she had barely even known where she was going. Before entering the airport in Ethiopia, she had written “Beirut” on her hand, worried she would forget her destination.
Forced out of her home
Hayat grew up with her mother and sister in a village in Ethiopia. She attended school every morning and returned to her family’s one-room rented home in the afternoon. There, she helped her mother, Hannah*, with chores and cooking and assisted her sister with her studies. On Sundays, the family went to church.
“I used to watch my mom worship in the church choir, and I loved it. I learned about Jesus from a young age,” Hayat said.
Hayat’s father passed away while she was still a young child. When Hayat was around nine years old, Hannah remarried. Hayat’s stepfather did not like sharing the home with her, and he forced Hannah to choose between him or Hayat. When Hannah chose Hayat, he threatened divorce, but then Hayat’s uncle intervened.
He worked for one of the recruiting agencies that serves an integral part in the kafala system by finding and sending young women from Ethiopia to Lebanon for employment as domestic workers. He arranged for Hayat to go to Lebanon, though years later, Hayat does not fully understand how the process happened.
Hayat’s time to leave came suddenly when her uncle arrived at the house and said that her flight was in two hours.
She packed only a few clothes, just enough for a week.
Heartbroken, Hannah gave Hayat snacks for the trip. “You’ll only be gone for two years,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll be gone for four,” Hayat joked.
Nine years later, Hayat remains in Lebanon.
Exploited and Abused
Upon arriving at her employer’s house, Hayat used hand gestures to communicate her need for food and a shower, as she was exhausted. The family was making tomato spread, and there were tomatoes everywhere. Her work began the next day when she had to clean all the pots and the rooms by herself.
“No one told me about the work (before coming to Lebanon), but I felt it would be hard,” Hayat said.
It proved more difficult than she imagined.
Hayat’s employer abused her, and she worked constantly, sometimes for 24 hours straight. Hayat took care of several dogs and several cats in a garden under the watchful eye of a camera. The house was a villa, and Hayat cleaned it all by herself.
“If I didn’t do things correctly, (my employer) would hit me,” Hayat said. “I left my mother and came here. I was a child. It wasn’t easy, because I didn’t know the language. However, by the second year, I had gotten used to it, and my body adjusted to the work.”
There is a scar on Hayat’s arm, a reminder of when her employer was upset with her children, yet she let her anger out on Hayat and threw a glass jar of cheese at her, cutting her skin. “I cried, wrapped my arm, and then went back to work,” Hayat said. “Another time, she threw the drawer of knives at me.”
Running Away
There was little that Hayat could do about the abuse. Under the kafala system, migrant domestic workers lack the same rights and protections as other employees in Lebanon. The abuses continued and expanded as Hayat’s employer regularly withheld her salary.
Hayat knows very little about the initial contract that she signed. She was told that the contract was for three years, but she worked longer than that. Her employer made her sign new papers every year and held on to her passport without providing any explanation. With nowhere to go – under the kafala system, migrant domestic workers typically live in their employer’s home – Hayat had no option but to stay.
When Hayat asked her employer to increase her monthly salary to $200, an amount that was less than half the national minimum wage at that time, her employer refused. Unable to endure the abuse any longer, Hayat decided to run away.
“They don’t treat us like human beings; they don’t understand that we get tired and need to eat and drink,” Hayat said. “There were times when I would fall asleep while doing the dishes, because I wasn’t allowed to sleep. I worked for three and a half years before I finally ran away, because I couldn’t handle it any longer. She wouldn’t pay me the money I was owed. If she would have paid me, it would have been bearable, but since she never paid me, I escaped.”
For the second time, Hayat left everything behind.
Finding a church and renewed hope in Christ
Life became even more difficult for Hayat after running away, but it also created the opportunity for her to grow in her faith.
Hayat was unable to retrieve her passport that her employer had hidden from her. All she had was a bit of cash and the clothes she wore. Hayat stayed with a friend, who introduced her to an Ethiopian church in Beirut.
Hayat felt happy. It was the first time she went to a church since arriving in Lebanon. A month later, an elderly woman hired her. This time, Hayat worked without a legal contract. It was hard work, but the woman treated Hayat better than her previous employer. She gave Hayat some free time in the evenings, which she dedicated to reading Christian books and scripture. She also gave Hayat Sundays off. On those days, Hayat went to the Ethiopian church.
Over the next several years, Hayat became an active member of the church. As her faith and knowledge of God grew, Hayat longed to be more engaged with the church. She asked her employer for permission to leave and live on her own, thinking it would allow her more time to attend church and study scripture. But her employer refused. Hayat then decided to quit the job, trusting she could find another one. She had no idea that a war would break out shortly after, leaving her for months without work.
Being unemployed has been difficult for Hayat, but she has used the extra time it has given her to read the Bible. Though Hayat is still on her journey of spiritual growth, the Lord is now using her to lead Bible studies at the church, where she encourages and walks alongside young women who are desperately seeking hope.
Hayat said that since the start of the war, the church has seen an increase in attendance, mainly from migrant workers who were displaced. The church is actively sharing the Gospel with them and other migrants living on the streets or in displacement shelters. Membership is growing as more people accept Christ. A few weeks ago, Hayat rejoiced as she celebrated the baptism of her friend along with 29 other women.
The members have remained faithful to God despite financial hardships. For years, they have offered their first month’s salary of the year to the church in obedience to Him.
Sustained by God’s Grace
Inside Hayat’s bedroom is a bookshelf lined with books in Amharic sent from Ethiopia by her mother. As the sun began to set on an Autumn afternoon and the room darkened, Hayat stood at the bookshelf, sharing with Thimar about her favorite books.
“I love my books so much,” Hayat laughed. “They’re like my children.”
Hayat’s love for reading and studying scripture propelled her to write her own book inspired by the story of the Samaritan woman in John 4. She hopes to finish editing it and to give it to churches. She wants to honor God with her first fruit for His Kingdom, recalling the words of Exodus to “bring the very best of the first harvest to the house of the LORD your God.”
“I don’t want any money for this book,” Hayat said. “This was my goal from the start.”
The quiet of the room and the softness of her voice were shattered by the sudden, loud boom of an airstrike a couple of miles away.
The doors and windows rattled, but Hayat remained still. “We’ve gotten used to the sounds of explosions,” she said calmly.
If it were not for her faith, Hayat does not know how she would have endured the last nine years of her life.
“If I focus on what I’ve lost, I could say that I’ve lost a lot; however, spiritually, I have everything,” Hayat said. “I got to know Jesus more in Lebanon. I experienced Him as a father. He’s like my friend. I cry and talk to Him.”
Hayat recalls the abuse she faced under her first employer as being like gold in fire, a process that God used to sharpen her character, making her stronger and ready for what He has planned for her.
“Everything will be okay,” she said. “I have hope that tomorrow will be better.”
Hayat smiled.
Photos by Hunter Williamson
