Travel anecdotes: Migrant workers
Will you have to forget everything you have learnt abroad once the plane lands?” asked one passenger to another on a flight to Dhaka as he quickly got up to push his way forward the moment the aircraft had touched down at the Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport. Another passenger chipped in: “I'm sure you obeyed the rule of the land in Qatar, why can't you do the same here?” The passenger at the receiving end stopped in his tracks; he stopped pushing. He didn't argue. It wasn't a fight waiting to snowball, as one would expect on the streets of Dhaka; it was a conversation. And still others joined in. A young man in a jeans jacket chimed in with a comment about our leaders showing us the wrong path: “Why wouldn't we behave this way? Only the one who pushes can go forward in this country. There is no nitee (ethics) in Bangladesh. Only the corrupt can win.”
But it has to be said: the migrant workers we see on planes are vastly different from the ones we used to see, say, a decade back. Or maybe, they are the same ones and over time they have acquired and assimilated new behaviours. They know how to use the toilet, for starters. They know how to conduct themselves professionally. They know not to stare, or to ask awkward questions. They are confident and self-assured. And it's with that same unencumbered assurance they will ask: “Apa, can you fill out my form for me?” And in their candid honesty, they will make you feel better about the world, because you realise, with relief perhaps, that they are doing well. You realise that they have come a long way in terms of meeting basic needs of their families and more. And knowing that their contributions to the economy in terms of foreign earnings have kept Bangladesh's GDP growth rate steady despite impediments to economic functions courtesy of a deteriorating political culture, you feel thankful. But in some ways, you also feel guilty that the country is riding on the backs of some of the most hardworking Bangladeshis in the world, who at the same time are given the third degree even in their own countries.You feel awkward that they are berated by one another for their actions (such as the rush towards the plane exit), while nothing is said about the exponential increase in costs associated with the ongoing impasse -- estimated around Tk. 36,445 crore in 16 days).
Back in Doha, where I had to spend a night, I lost a book at the hotel café. Toni Morrison's Love.When I went looking for it, a man we shall call Ali helped me, and it turned out he was a Bangladeshi like me. I didn't find Love (and I told Ali to read it if he ever found it) but what that chance encounter gave me instead was Ali's take on how migrant workers are treated in the Middle East. Here's an excerpt from that conversation:
Me: How long have you been working here? A: Three years now.
Me: Do you like working here in Doha? A: Yes, I like it here.
Me: But you know… we hear such horror stories about migrant workers being treated badly. A: Yes, there is that. But, you know, these people are very, very rich…so rich that nothing matters to them. That's why they treat people badly. Because it doesn't matter. They are just like that. It's not personal. I make money and I send it to my family. I'm doing well.
And there it was, the coping mechanism of one migrant worker in a Doha hotel. Or we could call it his survival instincts. Or even better his single-mindedness to achieve what he had come so far away for; leaving behind his home, hearth, family and friends, his comfort zone, his emotional social support structure. What struck me were his lucid thoughts on inequality, his understanding that he, on absolute terms, is doing better than he was when he was in Bangladesh. He seemed to have an inherent understanding that absolute poverty is defined in terms of survival. It reminded me of Amartya Sen's take on relative poverty and how it didn't apply to this man who (on the face of it) found a way to not be fazed by the gold and glitter around him. This was a man, who looked away, perhaps, to cope with the abuse of migrant workers, like the one that Navine, my sister, had met.
Navine, like me, collects anecdotes from people during her travels. We joke about it being “rigorous social research” to further our understanding of the world. So, she had asked this man she had met on a flight about his work only to be told that a mistake on his new machine-readable-passport had rendered him an illegal worker! He was jailed for three months, his savings and belongings confiscated, his newly wedded wife in Bangladesh not having a clue about his whereabouts because he wasn't allowed a phone call. Without rights, without money, without access to a lawyer he was put on a flight back to Bangladesh after his jail term was over. All his hard work amounting to nothing.
As it turns out, this indiscriminate incarceration of migrant workers in the Middle East who are then deported back to Bangladesh (and wherever else they are from) happens with mindless regularity (we also know about the gruesome beheading of 7 Bangladeshi workers in Saudi Arabia). But we turn a blind eye to all that because countries like Bangladesh are dependent on remittance and they're in the business of appeasing governments who will keep renting labour from Bangladesh, who will, in turn keep contributing to the country's GDP.
But that's not the only thing we turn a blind eye to; we are also guilty of ignoring the maltreatment and condescension meted out to them by their own people -- by dalals who exploit labour into trafficking, by airport immigrations officers who treat them like C grade meat at a cheap grocery store, by hi-fi college kids travelling on planes with them who think they're better than them because they speak better English.
Given their contributions to Bangladesh, shouldn't they be treated like kings and queens in their home country? Shouldn't they be welcomed with open arms when they land at the airport? Shouldn't there be a special line for them instead of for those with foreign passports? Aren't they the ones who are entitled to feel, well, entitled?
We are quick to point to other nations who mistreat them, as we should, but maybe we should also take a moment to introspect and think about the attitude towards migrant workers in Bangladesh, considering their stellar contribution to their nation. And perhaps then we can think about class privilege and how that modifies behaviours towards migrant workers and start working towards addressing that privilege.
The writer is Assistant Professor, School of Social Work, University at Buffalo and member of the AlalODulal Editorial Collective.
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