A mother of two leaves behind her family searching for a better life in Tunisia, only to encounter a harsh reality she could never have imagined.
After losing everything to war, Stephanie moves to Abidjan where she finds a steady cleaning job and is quickly able to move up the ranks. When a distant “cousin” calls to tell her about opportunities in Tunisia, Stephanie is hesitant. When her prospective employers get involved and keep the calls coming, Stephanie is charmed by their niceness. Stephanie’s account of her reality in Tunisia much more harrowing, though. She endures cruelty and abuse while trying to earn income to send to her daughter and son back home. After losing multiple jobs and unable to find steady employment, Stephanie dreams of going to Europe. Perhaps Europe will have the future she desires – one in which she can support her children. For Stephanie, going back to Côte d’Ivoire is not a desired option.
I was born in a village, in a very big family – we were thirteen children. My dad had five wives, although none of the weddings were official. We were a family of farmers. In 1997, I was about 20 years old and I left the house to move in with my husband – not an official husband – who lived 400 km from my own village. We had two kids. In the early 2000s, my husband and I lost our parents and almost everything we had because of the war. My husband’s house was burnt down. Things got really difficult financially; my husband lost his job and we moved into a tiny room together.
My husband was feeling a bit weak, so I decided I had to go to Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire, to work and bring money to the family. I left on my own to Abidjan. I am very strong and I know myself. So, I took the decision and made the move quite fast. I went to an agency for housekeepers and registered with them. They made me work in a bank as a cleaner and my boss there really liked me; he gave very good feedback about me.
Eventually, I moved up the ladder, and I started working for a Tunisian ambassador based in Abidjan! It was very random. He had never told me anything about Tunisia, though. He was my boss, you know, quite distant, but always very polite! I was cleaning his house; he was a very good man. He was paying me 150,000 CFA (about $254) per month, out of which I sent about $68–$85 to my family in my husband’s village using Orange Money. Orange is a mobile money service that allows registered users to send and receive money through their mobile phones and access other services including transfers, bill payment, and buying mobile airtime. “I was like a dad for the children.”
Around May 2013, a cousin who’d been in Tunisia for two years by then called me on my phone. He told me very nice things about Tunisia and said he’d give me a very good job because he knew I was really hard-working. He said his own bosses were looking for a new recruit. I wasn’t sure what I thought about it, but I told him he could put us in touch.”
Then the exchanges with the bosses started. It was a good family – the husband was working for a big French transportation company and the wife worked at the World Bank. She even taught at a university here. They called me very often and would say, “Come here. You won’t regret it. We have a room here, so you’ll be able to save a lot of money to support your family.” They seemed very nice at first, of course, so I fell into the trap. My cousin told me I had to give about $680 to his family and that he would then send me my flight ticket and arrange things for me. He said I wouldn’t regret it.
From May to June, I started borrowing from friends and family – about $50–$68. I didn’t tell them what it was for. I pretended it was for my children’s school fees. I had also gotten a raise at work a few months before.
My cousin said I had to renew my passport. I had always had a passport, just in case I’d ever need one. I thought maybe one day God would bless me enough to move to France, so I should have my ID prepared. But, he said I needed to renew it in case it reached its expiry date while I’m in Tunisia. He said I should also write down “housekeeper” as my occupation on my passport instead of “trader,” which is what I had put on my previous one.
In June, I had been able to collect enough money, so I sent the money to my cousin’s family through Orange Money. Nobody knew I was leaving at all, except for one of my friends, my daughter (who is now 20) and my sister. They were very happy for me; they didn’t know. They thought Tunisia is like Europe, an El Dorado. I had never met anyone who had gone on the adventure to Tunisia before. I was working all the time. I didn’t really have time to do any research. I knew some people who had gone to France and Belgium, and they would always tell me good things about work and money there. But they didn’t want to help me join them there financially. They said I just needed to be brave and cross the sea. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” But I just wasn’t ready to maybe die on the sea and abandon my children. Maybe one day I’ll be ready for it. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
I worked at the ambassador’s during my last eight months in Abidjan. I even went to clean his house on my last day there. I didn’t tell him anything, though. I pretended I had my parents in Morocco and that they wanted me to join them. My boss asked me, “But why are you leaving? I can give you a salary increase if you want, even a diplomatic passport.” Stephanie’s eyes widened as if she were outraged by remorse. “He was not happy I was leaving.”
I arrived toward the end of August 2013, with $56 in my pocket. I reached Tunisia really easily; there were no issues with security. I had an invitation letter to let me through and my boss called the policemen. Her grandmother was French and had a very good French accent, so the policemen just listened to her. My boss, her husband, and my cousin were waiting for me at the airport. They were very nice at first. They even carried my suitcase to put it in the car.
When I arrived in the house, there was another housekeeper, a Tunisian woman. My boss told me to eat and rest for the day. The second day, I started working. It was a bit hard at first because I didn’t know how to make Tunisian food. The Tunisian housekeeper worked for a month — one day a week to show me the basics — but then she left, and I had to take over everything on my own.
Every morning, I had to wake up at 4:00 am to clean their two cars, prepare breakfast for the parents and children, then I could eat a bit once they were gone. I had to clean the whole house, the pool, do some gardening, and feed the dogs. It was a huge house, with four rooms and a big living room. I had a small room near the terrace that had a big view of the city. The garden was huge, too.
They had told me they would pay me $173 per month, but once I got here, they said that they would keep half of the salary to cover for penalty fees for whenever I would leave the country. I told them I am a grown woman and know how to save my own money, but they said, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, we’re just keeping it safe for you.”
So, under the new plan, they were going to pay me $76 per month and reserve the rest, but it got worse: my boss didn’t want to give me even the reduced salary every month either. She would top my phone up and say, “Here you go, just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”
During my first month there, she lost her dad, so I felt a bit embarrassed to insist on getting my salary. After the fourth month, I had to ask for it. I said I needed to send money back home for the school fees that needed to be paid in January. We calculated how much they owed me, and she offered to help me transfer the money because her husband was in France and she could send funds via Western Union. I felt quite comfortable with her at that time, to be honest – we almost ate from the same plate!
On the 16th of June 2014, I lost my husband. The day before, he had asked me to chat on the phone, but I told him I was too tired to talk. Besides, sometimes he tried to sweet-talk me into sending him more money. He would pretend he was not feeling well or needed to buy something for the kids. Eventually, I stopped falling for it, and I would just avoid his calls when I felt it was about that.
On that morning, my daughter called me and told me he had had a heart attack and was at the hospital. I didn’t realize how bad it was until my brother-in-law called me to tell me he had passed away. That was really tough. My husband was the only one taking care of my children since I had already lost my parents.
I called my sister and asked her to look after my children and to help with the funeral. She said, “Ok, no problem.” But then she passed away, too, in July.
I told my bosses I had to go back home to take care of the funeral and find someone to look after my children. They said I could not leave! I tried to explain how important burials are in my country; the two bodies were there, waiting to be buried. It is inconceivable for us that a widow would not attend her own husband’s funeral. I had to be there to help organize the ceremonies. I called my family and my sisters-in-law back home to explain to them that my bosses did not want me to go, and they said, “We don’t care about your bosses. You have to find a way to come.”
My bosses kept saying, “Why do you want to go now? It is too late. You cannot change anything about the situation – they are dead!” They did not allow me to go, and instead, they went to Djerba [a touristic island in Tunisia] on a holiday. They left me like that, stuck in the house for a whole week, while my husband and sister were being buried, and they just went on a holiday!
I never ever left the house. They had told me that if the police found me in the streets, I would get into trouble. They said that if I ever got caught, I should never say I was working for them. I didn’t understand. I asked, “Why can’t I get a work permit then?” They said it was very complicated and that it was just easier if I stayed quiet. I just cried on my own for that whole week.
I told my cousin to bring me a $17 top-up card so I could call my family. When I called, my sister-in-law said, “What are you doing still in Tunisia? We expected you to be here already.” I tried to explain my situation to them, but they didn’t want to hear it. I had to call one of my aunts there, and I asked her to buy things for the ceremony for me. I explained that it was impossible for me to come. My aunt borrowed some money from friends there and bought things like the coffin and pretended I had bought it myself.
I didn’t see either my husband or my sister’s funerals. I wanted to throw myself from the terrace. I wanted to die, but I had to look after my kids. Everyone in the family, even my in-laws who live in France, just gave up on my kids. They abandoned us.
I called an old man that I knew in Abidjan, who always used to call me “ma fille” [my daughter]. I said, “Please, can you take care of my daughter? She’s just turning fifteen, and she needs somewhere to stay. My husband and my sister are gone.” Since then, he’s been hosting her, thank God.
My daughter is doing very well in school at the moment. I just pray she does well on her senior high school exam. As for my little boy, another man is looking after him. I don’t know him. I don’t know what he is doing with my son. But my daughter often goes to visit him. She checks on him and sends me pictures and he seems to be doing well, thank God. He’s going to school.
From January to September 2014, I didn’t receive any salary – she would just refuse to give it to me, and she would just top up my phone. But, in September, I told her I needed to send some money for school tuition fees again. I said, “I don’t care the amount of money that you owe me or the amount of work that I owe you. We need to send $694.” Stephanie was entitled to a total of $781 at that point. “The husband said that was too much money. I told them, ‘Listen, you have my passport, I don’t have friends, I don’t even go out. You have all my life. What are you afraid of? I don’t have anywhere to go. Please just send the money. The reason I’ve Come here is to help my children. Please help me send them money.” They eventually accepted and sent the money.
That was the last time they ever sent money for me. In the following four years, they never even gave me a salary. Now, I owe a lot of money to many relatives and friends in Côte d’Ivoire who have been taking care of my children, so that they don’t end up as a cleaner, like me. I owe about $848 back home. They tell me I have to be brave, that I need to cross the sea, but I don’t know. Besides, my in-laws in France aren’t supporting me. They say I’ve been a bad wife and mother – they don’t even visit my kids when they go back to Côte d’Ivoire. But at least my children aren’t letting me down; they are studying really, really hard to make me proud. I can only count on God.
On the 16th of July 2018, the bosses told me they were moving to Bordeaux in France. They had told me that whenever I wanted to leave to go back home they would pay my return ticket and they would even pay the penalties with all the money they had kept from my salary. But they didn’t do any of that! I thought they would at least help me a bit. I told them to give me $173, but they just gave me $69 with my passport. They had even bought two flight tickets for their own dogs and nothing for me!
They closed the doors to their house and put my stuff outside. Even their driver told them they couldn’t just leave me like that on the street. I begged them to please take me to France, but they said they couldn’t do that. I told them to send me back home. I said, “I don’t have anything to help my children. There’s no one to take care of them back home.” It was a Thursday, midday. I’ll never forget. They just left with their dogs and blocked me from all their social media.
I called someone I knew, who was working as a gardener in a neighboring house. I trusted him. I told him everything. He was living with his girlfriend, and he said I could stay with them for a bit until I found something. They had a room that had just been emptied. Rent was $52 and food was $14. I just had $3 left on me.
I spent a whole month looking for a job everywhere. I would ask around in the streets. I spoke to Tunisians and Ivorians, but it was really hard. I hadn’t been out at all while I was working in the house, so I didn’t know anyone and had no network. I called my boss’s sister-in-law. She was a very kind Pakistani woman. We had met a few times in the kitchen at some of the dinner parties my boss hosted. I explained my situation. I think she already knew about it. She said I could come over to her place once in a while for a couple hours and make food for about $9. I did it three times, but after two weeks she said I couldn’t come anymore because my ex-bosses told her she couldn’t hire me. They were afraid I would cause problems with the police. She said she would get into trouble with her family if she kept me, but she promised she would help me find a job with an expatriate family. She said, “I’m going to give your number around. Whatever number calls you, just pick up!” She did it for a little while, but then I think she stopped trying, and she wouldn’t call me anymore. Once, I called to check on her son and he was very happy to hear from me, but I told him not to mention our call because he would get in trouble.
I kept looking for a job. I started going to church to meet people. I was born neither Christian nor Muslim, but you know, sometimes you have to throw yourself into things and just hope it can help you out. There, I met someone who had an opportunity for me.
An Ivorian woman was coming to Tunisia to get surgery, and she was going to spend ten days in the Mont Plaisir hospital. They were looking for an African lady to take care of her. I had to sleep in her apartment, as it was right by the hospital, and look after her. She had paid for a whole package of medical intervention that included my salary. She was a very nice woman. She gave me about $69 before leaving, as a gift, and also gave about $85 to my daughter when she got back there. She visited her and she still goes to see her once in a while. Bless her.
On the 8th of October, the woman left, so I went to the hospital to ask for my salary. The boss said I had to work two more days because I had started work on the 10th of September. He took me to his house and told me to do the cleaning there. I did it, and on the 10th, I asked for my salary. Then he started giving me the same old speech: “Just keep working. I’ll save the salary for you and give it [to you] later.” So, I just left. I was sick of that speech.
At that point, I went back to the room in the Ivorian couple’s house. My stuff was still there. No one had replaced me, but they said I would have to pay them back for that month’s rent. Luckily, I had the money that the Ivorian lady had given me before leaving, so I was able to pay the $52 for rent and $14 for food.
I had no idea what I was going to do. But then my phone rang. It was a U.S. telephone number. A Tunisian lady had been given my number by the Pakistani woman. She was looking for someone to take care of her dad in Tunisia for five days a week. He was old and alone. He was a bit demanding, she said, but I understood; he needed to be taken care of.
I would take the bus every morning, except on my days off (Wednesday and Sunday), to get there at 8 am, and then would go back home around 4:00 pm. I was supposed to finish work at 2:00 pm, but there was always more to do. I was cooking, cleaning, and making sure he took his medication. I would have my lunch with him. I would eat the same food I made for him, and he would let me make a little extra for myself.
I was paid about $173 per month. Every 30th of the month, he would give me my salary. He wouldn’t even wait for the 1st of the month! And he would usually write down a few nice thank you words on my envelope. It was really going well, and his children liked me too. They used to visit him every Friday for supper, so every Friday I would make tasty food for the children in addition to his food. His daughter would always leave a plate of the tasty food for me in the fridge so that I would eat it on Saturday when I came back. It was always like that, for eight months.
But one day, he went completely crazy. On Saturday I did everything as usual. And for lunch, I ate the food that his daughter had left for me the previous night. I even emptied the trash and took two big trash bags out – one for recycling and one for garbage, as usual. He even saw me step out of the house with these. I said, “See you Monday!” But when I came back on Monday – I remember very well, it was the first of May – he went completely crazy. He didn’t answer when I said “hello,” which I found very strange. He wasn’t speaking to me at all, and then suddenly, he threw a plate at me. I said, “Why are you doing this? What’s wrong, Papa?” He said, “Why did you touch the plate in the fridge without asking for my permission? Everything in this house and in this fridge is mine! You don’t have the right to touch any of it without asking me! I know you stole food from the fridge too – I saw it in the camera. You left with two big bags.”
I wanted to tell him that the food was just the garbage, but he is a dad. I cannot argue with a dad like him. So, I confessed. I said, “Yes, Papa. Sorry I ate, but it was my plate, I promise. It’s always been like this.” He said, “This is theft! This is theft!” I called his daughter so that she would calm him down and she said, “Listen, he does the same with us too sometimes. He is old, you know.” That day, he didn’t give me my salary as usual. He just threw it in my face and fired me.
So, I found myself without a job again. But earlier in the year, I had gotten a call from someone in Côte d’Ivoire, telling me that my cousin had been here for five years and that I should meet her. I didn’t really know much about her, but I decided to just call her. She turned out to be very sweet, and she told me I could move into her place. She pays all of the rent, about $104, and she said I can contribute what I can. From May until a few months ago, I hadn’t been able to give her money. I had to send money to my family and figure things out for myself.
I don’t want to do any fixed, full-time job anywhere anymore. I don’t want to put myself into that situation anymore. You can work for a month, even months, and not make any money out of it! I’m always looking for day cleaning jobs through friends. One of my friends who works in La Marsa as a cleaner sometimes sends me to do one of her rooms to help her out. I get about $10 out of it, but I have to give her $3. Sometimes I work two, three days a week when I’m lucky. But sometimes it’s just once, and then it gets really tough. Thank God there’s a house I get to clean every Sunday, for which I make $14 right away. I was recently able to give my cousin $190 for the rent, and I even bought a bottle of gas for the kitchen yesterday. I keep looking for more and more day jobs.
While I was working for the Papa (October 2018 to May 2019), I was able to send between $52–$69 every month to my children through a network. The fees are proportional. If you want to send around $34, you have to give the network $45. If you want to send $68, you give the network $90. I always go through the same person to send money because it’s really risky. Once, I wanted to send a really big amount, about $139, because my daughter was taking an exam, but the man just went to Libya with my money! It was the same cousin who brought me here!
One time, I prepared a suitcase with 10 kg of gifts for my children, and I gave it to a woman who said she was flying back to Côte d’Ivoire and she just disappeared with it – my children never got any of these gifts.
I owe some money to some girls (Sub-Saharan migrants). In total, I owe these girls about $60. But they are nice. They tell me to reimburse them whenever I can.
I want to go to Europe because, in my mind, I just want to go forward with my life now. Here, all I can do is survive. I’m not even able to support my children so well. For now, I don’t have the money to afford it, but maybe one day I hope I will. I’ll have to be very brave. I don’t want to go back to Côte d’Ivoire anymore.
My daughter is having some issues with the family she’s staying with at the moment. She isn’t a baby anymore. She’s twenty, so it’s complicated. I’m really worried about her because she has a boyfriend. If she gets pregnant, that’s it! I’m screwed. I told her to be very careful because I wouldn’t be able to support a baby.” Stephanie cried. “Everything I do is for her, you know. I’m not here to have fun. I can’t even sleep at night anymore. I’m really praying for her to get a scholarship here, but it’s really hard. Hopefully, she can come here soon. And even if she can’t study right away, she can help me out for a year, do some cleaning, and then maybe she can get a scholarship and stay here to study or...” She doesn’t say anymore, but I imagine they’d save enough money to go to Europe together. “My son is good for now. He is a man who will find his way in life, I know it.”