Agnes Mudembo’s Kuwaiti and Maltese employers both abused and exploited her… until she’d had enough and left to pursue an education. Sarah Carabott tells her story of courage and determination.

She was paid €250 a month for a seven-days-a-week job, had her passport confiscated, survived on her employer’s leftovers and was banished from the house when she fell ill, but Agnes Mudembo still wants to call Malta her home.

And in an effort to thank her adoptive country and fulfill a lifelong dream, the 41-year-old from Zimbabwe will this October start a full-time nursing course at the University of Malta.

“I’m here to stay, and I’ve tried to thank those who helped me individually, but I want to do something that will thank the whole community. I can do just that through nursing.”

Agnes last sat behind a school desk when she was a teenager: she had to drop out of school aged 14 when her family’s money ran out.

She worked as a maid and nanny for a year, saving up enough money to return to school. But a scholastic year and a term later, the money ran out again and she had to drop out for good.

Her education journey had come to a dead-end but her ambition to care for people lived on.

After marrying at 18 and becoming a mother, she registered her house as a feeding point in collaboration with NGOs that provided food for malnourished children.

She also trained as a carer to treat villagers with malaria and those who needed first aid care, such as having their wounds bandaged.

But when tragedy struck in 2004, killing her second son, Agnes moved to the city, where she returned to the housekeeping trade.

It was housekeeping that took her to Kuwait in 2015.

The move from Zimbabwe was extremely challenging for Agnes, as she left behind her husband and three children, the youngest aged one. But it had become increasingly difficult for her to work in Zimbabwe, with compatriots threatening they would snatch her family’s land if she continued caring for her employees, perceived to be part of the political opposition.

The stint in Kuwait lasted a year. Agnes flew to Malta with her boss and for three months she continued to be exploited: she was given a salary of just €250 for job that required her to do everything from cooking to gardening, seven days a week.

At that moment it felt better to die in my country than continue being treated in that manner

When her pleas for a decent wage continued to fall on deaf ears, she fled the house and sought help from the police who later retrieved her passport from her employer with a warning against the exploitation of labour.

Agnes did not know anyone in Malta but soon found help from African and Maltese residents, including human rights NGOs.

“It felt like I was given a second chance at life… but I was soon exploited again for another 15 months,” she says, her voice trailing off.

Agnes’s new boss, who was Maltese, offered to hire her as a live-in maid together with another housekeeper.

“But the other maid never turned up, so I continued doing the job of two, and being paid for one: €750 a month. I was the cook, babysitter, shopper, car cleaner… I did everything. I was told to eat leftovers.

“As a foreigner I believed I did not have a voice, so I just waited it out. It was a lonely journey. I didn’t dare go back to the people who had helped me out the first time because I could not allow myself to be the victim again.”

The breaking point came when she was taken ill and was told to leave the house with her “germs”. She was told she could stay in a storeroom until she got better. Since the place did not have curtains that she could draw to block the light out, Agnes slept in the bathroom for a week.

When she returned to duty, she was scolded for being slow.

“I reminded them that they were meant to hire an additional maid and I asked why they were hanging on to me if I was as bad as they said I was.

“I decided enough was enough, but when I said I was quitting they told me they were Maltese and would make sure I would not get a job.

“At that moment it felt better to die in my country than continue being treated in that manner. I left.”

'I believed I did not have a voice, so I just waited it out.' Photo: Matthew Mirabelli

Agnes has come a long way since.

Granted refugee status as a result of the threat of harm in her country, she juggled two jobs and studied part-time at MCAST. Working day and night, she managed to save up enough money to buy a plane ticket for her husband, who moved to Malta on a work permit.

The two now rent their own place, and Agnes works as a housekeeper with diplomats.

They have meanwhile applied for permission to fly their children over, as entitled to do so because of the refugee status.

As she looks forward to the day that she will be reunited with her children, Agnes closes the door on years of hard labour and exploitation and opens another one that she hopes will fulfil a childhood ambition.

“I’m not looking back. The challenges I experienced in the past gave me the strength to be where I am today.

“Education guarantees a future – it opens the door to a career. Nursing is not just a job that I want to do – it is a life that I want to live, caring for people with all my heart.”

Agnes is benefitting from an educational programme run by the Jesuit Refugee Service and Kopin, which supports asylum seekers and refugees with personalised packages aim­ed at enabling them to complete primary and secondary education or sixth form, access higher educational institutions or improve their employability.