‘We were domestic slaves – now we save other victims from abuse and rape in the UK’

In the shadow of the imposing glass buildings overlooking Hyde Park, a woman is hurrying children to the playground.

One of many domestic workers who take their charges to the local swings in one of Britain’s most expensive postcodes, she has a haunted ­expression as she ushers two preschool children through the gate.

For Marissa Begonia, the worker’s expression and lack of eye contact is enough to act upon. Marissa passes the woman a ­business card and speaks to her quietly in the language of the Philippines, Tagalog.

“I said, ‘If your employer treats you badly, we can help you’,” Marissa says. “She told me, ‘Thank you. I am very worried about my friend. She has not been given food and her wages are being kept from her by her employers.’”

Marissa gives a tight smile as she adds, “They always say ‘my friend’ when we first speak to them.” Marissa, 54, and her colleagues Mimi Jalmasco, 49, and Grace Nine, 50, have rescued 60 women this year from modern slavery. Over the past five years, they have rescued over 220.

This fearless band of volunteers, known as the Voice of Domestic Workers, perform these daring rescues in the face of armed ­bodyguards despite the unlimited power of ultra-wealthy individuals.

“There are many cases where the women have been physically beaten, starved, scalded with hot water, and also so many rape cases,” Marissa says. “So far, we have rescued 60 women this year. The woman behind us, looking at me – she might be the next.”

The rescuers are used to thinking on their feet. “In one rescue, we had to act at the airport before they were taken to Dubai,” Marissa says. “We signalled to the woman to go to the toilet. With the bodyguard outside, we changed clothes, and she was able to escape while the bodyguard followed me instead.”

Today we are out on the wealthy streets of Kensington looking for domestic workers who may need VODW’s help. “We have to watch that the employer is not around watching, or if there is security,” Marissa cautions. “Often the bodyguard accompanies the women and the children, even to the swings.”

Video footage of recent rescues, taken by VODW, shows fleeing – often sobbing – women being bundled into cars and hidden in parks.

“We had to prepare for an escape because we were beaten by our employers,” says one escaped woman, Renya (not her real name). “We hid our belongings in a black bin bag in the outside bin so we wouldn’t be seen carrying our bags. We were extremely frightened, but we had to be brave.”

For Marissa and the other women, VODW is a family. “We are all ourselves survivors of modern slavery,” Marissa explains. “We know what it is like to be trapped and badly treated, unable to speak to anyone who can help you. If we don’t rescue these women who will?

“Many only come out with only the clothes they are wearing on their backs. They may be barefooted, no shoes. We will shelter them ­temporarily in our own homes.

“There was one woman who had been sexually abused for two years by her male employer. It was difficult to rescue her because he was awake all the time. The only way was for her to jump from the window – two floors up.

“Sadly, her case was ­rejected by the police. So now her employer is ­probably raping her replacement.”

Marissa left her home and three young children in the Philippines over two decades ago to work as a domestic servant for a wealthy family, travelling with them across the world before settling in the UK.

But once she was far from home, her employer began withholding her payment, refusing to let her rest and verbally abusing her.

“I had an abusive employer,” Marissa says. “I suffered different forms of abuse – long hours of work, non-payment, verbal abuse including sexual harassment. I thought I was the only one. One day I managed to run away, but I was completely alone in London.”

With no place to go, Marissa came across Unite the Union in Holborn. “I was walking with no direction, ­traumatised and I found myself there,” she says. “I looked up at Unite and thought, ‘Can a union help me?’”

Unite, already working with domestic workers fleeing abuse, was able to help Marissa – including introducing her to others. “Some of them were ­traumatised and unable to speak English,” she says. “Slowly I helped them. I realised the need for us to group together to become stronger and have one voice.”

Marissa set up Justice for Domestic Workers in 2009, which in 2017 became the VODW. Now, in a historic move – thought to be a world first – they have formed a Domestic Workers Branch inside Unite.

Marissa recently met general ­secretary Sharon Graham, and Unite regional officer Janet MacLeod calls them “the most impressive group of workers I’ve worked with in 25 years”.

“Before it felt like we were ­powerless,” says Marissa’s colleague Grace. “Now we have joined this big family and an international movement.”

Marissa says her phone is always on. “I get calls at 2am because that’s when they are safe to call,” she says. “Sometimes they have no SIM so we have to drop one in. Outside London, we can send train tickets or rescue them – we’ve been as far as Scotland.

“Sometimes we say ‘pass the phone to someone you meet so we can ask them to help you make your way to the station’ and then we’ll meet them.”

Cristina, 39, was one of those rescued after being passed a VOWD calling card. “When there was a time I could escape, I called that number and they rescued me,” she told us. “They gave me shelter, personal belongings and helped the trauma go.”

In Hyde Park, for Mimi, the thought that the woman in the playground might be in the same situation she was recently in is too much. “I still call the statue Eros my friend,” she says. “It comes from the night I was homeless at Piccadilly Circus. When my employers brought me here, I was really mistreated badly.

“I wasn’t properly fed. Every little mistake would be deducted from my salary. No breaks, no day off. I had to hide a bottle in the cleaning bucket for me to drink water. When my employer got ill, she threatened me and accused me of being a witch. She said that ­Filipinos are witches.”

When Mimi heard the family were planning to travel back to Dubai she decided to escape. “I got really scared about my safety because of what happened to one of the lady drivers in Dubai. The police just came and grabbed this lady out of the house, and we didn’t hear anything about her again. “I was so scared to go back with them because I knew how powerful they were. That was why I escaped.”

Marissa says the current legislation – known as the National Referral Mechanism – is no longer fit for purpose. “What we are saying is that domestic workers came here with a proper work visa, so they need to be protected,” Marissa says. “Do we need to be raped, to be beaten, starved almost to death in order to be able to access protection?”

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