Raped and beaten in Kuwait

TO THIS DAY, her Kuwaiti experience last year haunts her sleep. In fact, Maricris (not her real name) will never return to Kuwait for the rest of her life. She says her experience in the Arab country brought the biggest shock of her life.

But the fortitude Maricris exudes is awesome in that she found courage to come out and file charges against those who had wronged her.

Hers is a typical story of a young college girl from the province recruited to work as a domestic helper abroad, who unfortunately lands with an evil employer. She was allegedly maltreated and raped. To make things worse, the recruitment agency turned its back on her.

“I was near crazy. Namanhid na ang buong katawan ko. Akala ko mamamatay na ako, (My whole body went. I thought I would die),” she tells the Inquirer.

“Gusto ko lang mabigyan ng hustisya ang mga nagawa nila sa akin (I want only to seek justice for what they had done to me),” says the 24-year-old education student of Negros Occidental.

How it began

In an interview held with Maricris’ counsel,lawyer Bernardino Mortera, the Inquirer learned that administrative charges have been filed against Maiden’s Way Overseas Manpower, the agency that sent her, along with hundred others Filipinas, to the Middle East in December 2006.

The interview was arranged with the help of lawyer Roy Señeres, former ambassador to the United Arab Emirates, and his wife Minnie.

The Inquirer also learned that the agency was featured in a local television network’s investigative show for claims of alleged illegal recruitment last year.

Reached for comment, agency operator Mary Mae Victorina says Maricris was making up stories. “It was Maricris who breached the contract. She’s a big liar,” Victorina says, adding that Maricris wove patches of the stories perfectly so she could get away from her contract.

In that contract signed by the two parties, Maricris says the agency was to be responsible for her for the period of six months. In their agreement, she would be sent to Kuwait free of charge and the agency would be paid through salary deduction.

But the promises went pfft, Maricris says. “They were preying on women from the provinces who were near illiterate so they could take advantage of them,” she adds.

Her unfortunate tale started in September 2006 when she applied at a job fair in Bacolod as a cook, along with a couple of cousins who were hoping for a brighter life that jobs abroad could offer.

All-around nanny

“I didn’t think of the risks involved abroad. All I wanted was to help my family,” says this youngest of 14 children of a farmer and housewife from Negros.

Through the help of Maiden’s Way, Maricris was sent to Manila for two-month training and orientation. The alleged “training” was actually held at the residence of Victorina, the operator of the recruitment agency.

“Daig pa namin ang mga katulong doon. Ikinukulong kami. Bawal lumabas at pumunta man lang sa mga kamag-anak. Yun daw ang totoong training upang makapunta sa Kuwait (We were worse than servants there. We were locked in. Even going out to visit relatives was prohibited. That was the real training to get to Kuwait), “ Maricris says.

She thought her struggle would end after the “training” when in fact the misery had just started.

She was sent to Kuwait not as a cook but as an all-around domestic helper for an Arab family of nine. She was offered 200 dinar (roughly P23,000) as monthly salary.

“The first two days of treatment were okay, but days after, they started to get evil,” she recalls.

She lived with the employer’s second wife and their seven children, all boys, in a condominium in Salmiyah, Kuwait.
As an all-around nanny, she did everything—cleaning, laundry, cooking and all household chores.

Between a rock and a hard place

Her days started at 5 a.m. and ended at 3 a.m after ironing the clothes. On days when she had difficulty waking up, her employer would hit her with whatever lay at hand.

“Pinukpok nila ako minsan ng kaldero nung hindi ako makabangon dahil may sakit ako (They once hit me with a cooking pot when I couldn’t get up because I was sick,)” she says on the verge of tears.

“Lahat utos. Akala nila computer ang katawan ko. Sisigaw silang lahat. Babatukan ako, pukpok ng sandok ’pag hindi tapos ang work. (It was all orders. They thought my body was a computer. Everyone would shout. They’d hit my head, pounding a ladle when the work wasn’t finished.)”

“There were also instances when they would lock the fridge so I could not eat. For three days, I would only drink water and scour the trash bin for leftovers,” Maricris says.

“My employer would also ask me to undress in front of her seven children and instruct me to parade around the house. That’s how crazy she was,” she adds.

One of the seven children, a 26-year-old police officer, allegedly raped her twice when they were alone in the house.
“He would ask me to clean his room then he would punch and kick my legs so I wouldn’t be able to get away. He would threaten to kill me should I report to police, who are his colleagues anyway.”

Fearing that she’d get pregnant, the police officer would force her to take medicines a few weeks after the incidents.

One night in February last year, she finally escaped when the whole family was asleep. “I ran out of the house with nothing at hand. I didn’t even have money, papers, passport. All I needed was to get to the embassy and ask for help.”

It took her two hours before an Indian cab driver took her to the Philippine Embassy. At the embassy, Maricris says she tried to contact the agency to ask for help, to no success.

“They were going hands-off with my case since my employer belongs to a known powerful family in Kuwait. They didn’t even subject me to medico-legal to prove I was raped and tortured. My hands were burned.”

Through the help of the embassy, Maricris was sent home in March after two months of sanctuary.

Fighting for justice

Maricris says she’s trying to forget the misery she endured overseas, but there’s no way she’s going back abroad after the trauma she went through, she says.

“The case against the agency is ongoing. We have a good chance winning,” her lawyer says.

“I will be fighting for this case. Only justice would give me a decent sleep,” says Maricris who is now looking for a job here in the city. Learning to fight and be tough is the “one good thing I got from the experience.

“I don’t discourage people who hope to go abroad. But I could only say that the safest place is to be home.” - Emman Cena, Inquirer, July 31, 2007