Migrant workers who are employed in private homes are vulnerable to exploitation and few are aware of their rights. But how widespread are the problems behind closed doors, asks Kitty Holland
An estimated 800 foreign migrants work as "domestics" in private homes across the State. Many are probably unaware of their rights as workers in this country. Most are women. Most are Filipinos. And, according to Siobháin O'Donoghue, who works with the Migrant Information Centre in Dublin, there is no real way of knowing how many are falling victim to "plain exploitation. All we can say is what our experience has been here".
The centre has about five contacts a week from migrant "domestics" and O'Donoghue is certain there are many in intolerable situations who do not come forward. Among the stories of exploitation she has heard at the centre are "illegal deductions from their wages, being charged for meals and accommodation, being expected to do work outside the terms of their original contract, being expected to work far longer hours than set out in their original contract".
Because "domestic" work is not a specific category, with a specific job description, such workers may be employed as childminders but end up doing a whole range of other jobs in the house. So far this year some 251 work permits have been issued to people from the Philippines, compared with 3,255 for the whole of last year. Some 61 of those issued this year to Filipinos were for work in the domestic sphere.
As a group they are effectively working behind closed doors, their only daily interaction being with their host family. They often have little English and are frequently unaware of the fact that they are covered by the same labour legislation as everyone else (apart from the equality legislation). The position of migrant domestics is one in need of thorough overhaul, says O'Donoghue, particularly given the clear growth in the area.
"Irish society is changing," she says. "More women are working outside the home, our ageing population is going to become increasingly dependent on care and on domestic workers who, it seems, are increasingly going to be coming from overseas."
O'Donoghue, the Filipino Honorary Consul and the Equality Authority have all heard serious complaints from migrant women working as domestic helpers. And the volume of these complaints is increasing, says O'Donoghue. Even where they are aware of their rights - e.g. to a minimum wage - the work-permit system exacerbates the "behind-closed doors" nature of the work. Permits are applied for and held by the employers. Working visas on the other hand - held by workers in skills shortages areas, such as nurses - are held by the worker.
"The permit creates a scenario where the worker is disempowered," says O'Donoghue. "It creates a very different dynamic between the worker and the employer than is the norm."
The employee is tied to their employer as the employer holds the permit. In contrast, those here on work visas can move from job to job within their profession. O'Donoghue has heard examples where the employer had threatened to have the worker deported or has confiscated their passport.
All who spoke to The Irish Times were anxious to stress that employing a migrant worker in the home could be, and probably usually was, a positive experience for all involved. Precy Aguas (44) would appear to be an example of how it can work out right. Originally from the island of Batanes, one of the northernmost of the Philippines islands, she has been working as a live-in childminder with a family in south Co Dublin since mid-2000.
"There is someone I know from Manila who worked for a family here who recommended me to my employers, and when they were on holiday in the Philippines they interviewed me. After a few months then they told me to start with getting my papers ready."
Sitting forward in an armchair in the family livingroom, the diminutive woman explains that she has two daughters, Earlyn (20) and Mailene (18) at home in Manila "who need to finish their studies". They are studying hotel management and nursing respectively.
"My husband is just an ordinary government worker. His salary is about a quarter of mine. It is just enough to pay for day to day." She is paid the going rate here for live-in nannies, half of which she sends back to the Philippines for her daughters' education.
Her day starts at about 7.15 a.m. when she gets breakfast cereals ready for the two older children aged eight and 11 years. They leave for school with their father at 8.20 a.m. while their mother leaves for work in the city-centre at about 9 a.m., leaving Aguas with two-year old Amy for the day.
"The whole day we are alone then. I am the one who organises our time. After everyone has left I tidy the house a little and we go for a quick walk, get some messages in the shop. At 2 o'clock we must be back because the baby has a sleep and at a quarter past three we collect the other children from school."
She prepares a meal for the children at 5.30 - "I love cooking" - and the children are in bed by about 7.30 p.m. She does not cook for her employers as, she says, they may have had a large lunch, may be planning to eat out and she often can't be certain what time they'll be in . Asked whether she has to do much cleaning, ironing or other household chores, Aguas says she does not. "My priority is just to be here for the children."
She gets home to the Philippines at least once a year and also visits relatives in London, her flights paid for by her employers. Being away from her family saddens her sometimes, "but for me I am so determined to come over here for my family. I am lucky because I waited until the right time. My family was grown. It is so sad for mothers who have young children at home because a year is a long gap".
She also stresses that she can phone her family whenever she wishes and does so "every second day". Her stay here is to fund her children's college education. Her government is "proud" of the many Filipinos who leave home to work abroad, she says, "because we are sending money, we are also helping the Government". She knows several other Filipinos working in Irish people's homes as childminders and says they are "mostly all happy". The only real complaints she has heard are about Irish food among those whose employers won't allow them to cook their own food. "The food is very different. We don't like so much beef. We like mainly vegetables, and fish. Maybe some pork."
The fact, however, that even Aguas would not have her photograph taken underlines the reticence many in her position - even when happily employed - have about speaking about themselves, let alone complaining about their lot. "We have a very soft skin," she says.
None in difficult situations would speak to The Irish Times while the Migrant Information Centre was reluctant to put anyone forward for interview. "Ena", who spoke movingly to RTÉ radio this week of her experiences in an Irish home, was put forward "as a once off" to highlight the problems faced by many. "We have to maintain the centre as a safe place for people to come," says O'Donoghue.
Niall Crowley, chief executive of the Equality Authority, stresses a second factor causing problems for migrant workers in the home: the sentence in the Equality Act which says, "Nothing in this applies to the employment of any person for the purposes of a private household".
"We have made recommendations to the Department of Justice," says Crowley. "It is currently working at incorporating the EU Race Directive into Irish law, the provisions of which would suggest that this sentence would have to be removed."
While this is the main aspect in the area that falls within the authority's remit, Crowley recommends there be better communication with these workers about their rights at the point of recruitment and entry into the state. He also recommends that a system be looked at which would give the worker more ownership of his or her work permit.
The Filipino Honorary Consul in Ireland, John Ferris, has seen numerous problems among domestic workers seeking his advice. "You get employers announcing they are deducting the price of the flight from the Philippines from their wages and then they find they are only getting €50 for a few months."
As well as the permit and the Equality Act issues, Ms O'Donoghue would like it made clear what exactly work as a "domestic" entails. In other states, and by the International Labour Organisation, work in the home - cleaning, cooking etc - is clearly defined. "When a job is clearly defined - as regards hours, the type of work expected of the worker, the minimum rates of pay - it's better for everyone. The employer knows what they can expect, the employee knows what's expected and if the parameters are breached the employee knows they have a right to complain. When the job is defined the protections are in place."
Racism underlies many of the problems seen at the Migrant Information Centre, says O'Donoghue. "A very clear distinction is there sometimes between what would be seen as an acceptable rate of pay for an Irish worker and a migrant worker, or how hard they would be expected to work. Every worker has to be entitled to the same human rights and dignity as any other worker in the country."