Tomorrow it will be a year since Lionel Messi, in his pyjamas, lifted the World Cup trophy on Qatari night. This moment would have happened without the immigrants’ paintings.
Foreign workers, making up more than 90 per cent of Qatar’s population, built eight stadiums, miles of roadway and dozens of accommodation blocks. The deaths of thousands of these workers remain unexplained.
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During the tournament, FIFA and Qatari organisers opposed the debate on migrant workers’ rights, insisting it was time to focus on football.
Over that month, with the help of human rights researchers Equidem, The Athletic published four instalments of diaries written by migrant workers.
The format of the World Cup diary is well known. Perhaps Jack Grealish describes how England came together in table tennis games, or Hugo Lloris talks about introductory songs, or Kevin De Bruyne talks all about the Belgian film club.
But while Messi and Kylian Mbappé competed for wealth, the life of these teams continued: their lives are intrinsically connected to that of the World Cup. Athletic wanted to tell their story, with their voice.
Two of them, Karun and Jagat, are originally from Nepal and have lived in Qatar for years. Two others, Joseph and Victor, are from Kenya and have just arrived in the Gulf state. Each uses a false call to their identity by their employers. and the government.
A year later, we wanted to know how their lives had changed. Had they fulfilled their dream of opening businesses in their country?Were they treated better after the tournament?
Many knew about the deceased workers. Was there justice?
Karun has lived in Qatar since 2011 and comes from a small Nepalese agricultural network located at an altitude of 1,200 meters in the Himalayas. When he arrived in Qatar, he found that his contract was worth two hundred Qatari riyals (£43; $55 at existing rates) less than expected. He works as a scaffold and plans to stay for about 4 more years.
I work for a manpower supply company in Qatar. I do whatever work they ask me to do — I cannot say no. When you are a worker, you are forced. If I do not work, I do not get paid and I have to take care of my family.
We don’t have a fixed site and every two to four months we spend every two to four months anywhere the company has a task in progress. Sometimes I’m in Sanaya, Al Wakrah or Al Rayyan. Lately I’ve been in Al Khor, a city in the north.
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The company does not have as many projects as before the World Cup. My friends — not only at my company but others — are suffering because they do not have much work. Workers are in bed killing time, suffering without salary and getting fired. I am worried, too. At the moment, at least, I’m getting eight-hour shifts and my basic salary.
Since the tournament, I’ve not managed to return home. I wanted to, but I have so many responsibilities, so many things to do for my family, my own dreams. I would have returned home already if things had gone according to my plan, but after the World Cup, we stopped getting overtime duty. This set me back years and I do not think I can go back anytime soon.
I miss everything, being together with family, eating with them. It is worst during the festivals. We used to go to village markets and fairs, we used to have a lot of fun. It makes me feel like crying when they say that they miss me, too. We Nepalese celebrate together in Qatar, too, but it’s not the same.
Reflecting on my remedy here, it’s neither smart nor bad given the number of other sites I’ve visited. Some corporations treat staff well. They provided us with smart food and shelter – they took care of us.
But others were worse: they bled staff unnecessarily and didn’t provide them with smart homes. Sometimes we had to queue for hours to take a bath. Some corporations didn’t give us bloodless water to drink, but they did give us warm water, which caused my abdomen to turn. There wasn’t even a white room to buy our food.
Coming from a home company, they treat us differently. They treat us to give us as many paints as possible, like donkeys. They wouldn’t let us rest on hot summer days. We were scolded when we didn’t achieve our purpose in time. . If we took a day off, we were deducted two days’ wages. We painted a lot of pictures every day, but if we took a minute off, we were told, “Go back to Nepal if you need to rest. “
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I once saw a manager beat up a painter because he didn’t finish his paintings on time. The administrator reprimanded him, beat him, and then the painter kicked him off the site of the structure.
We, the migrant workers, helped build Qatar, we helped Qatar realize its dreams, many of us died along the way, but I can’t say that things have been better for us.
Since the end of the tournament, no one has cared about the migrant workers. The government does not control whether workers receive their wages and overtime. Workers who seek justice in court receive no treatment, but are sent to the labor court, where then the High Court, then the Supreme Court, then nothing. When staff need to replace jobs, we have to apply for a NOC (No Objection Certificate), but corporations reject it, register false court cases against them or label us as “fugitives. ” The formula exploits them.
Prior to the World Cup, Qatar was under pressure from around the world to ensure workers’ rights. Now that the tournament is over, they don’t care about the Asians, they just send us back to our country.
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Jagat is Nepalese and worked as a bricklayer at the World Cup. She has been living in Qatar since 2019. Su dream is to start an animal husbandry business in Nepal, while saving up to send her children to school.
I felt very satisfied when I saw my circle of relatives for the first time in two years. I hadn’t noticed that my daughter was growing up and was at Nepal Dashain, our biggest festival. And he was proud, too. I told them I worked in the stadium that hosted the World Cup final.
At that time I was a bricklayer, but now my task is to sweep the ground or dig holes at Qatar University. This part of the task is not in my contract, but I have to settle for it, pay attention to my company. otherwise he would possibly have to go back.
You see, things have changed a lot since the end of the World Cup. Before, it was very hectic for us. Although the staff died, the paintings did not stop. It had to be finished anyway.
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But things have been slow lately, there are very few jobs here for us. We used to do a lot of overtime, but now corporations are laying off their staff and us without notice. We are asked for new jobs, but how can we do it?I do my best: there are very few of them in Qatar and the staff sit idly by.
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I also feel that living in Qatar is more expensive. I only earn my base salary with no overtime and it has been very difficult to manage my expenses with the little I earn here.
I feel bad because they used staff until the World Cup and left us without staff afterwards. We were treated like animals.
Think about this. In my own company, a worker died on another site which belonged to them. We have no idea what happened to them. Such information is not disclosed. Our friends told us that they were not allowed near the body.
If an accident happened, our supervisors and foremen coached us to say that such accidents happened in the accommodation camp — even if it was on site.
All I wanted was for my family to be happy. I wanted to send my daughter to a smart school, I wanted to fulfill my wife’s wishes. My parents are old and can’t paint anymore. I tried to take care of them. I’m glad I can do all those things. Your happiness is mine.
Victor worked as a bus driver during the tournament, transporting passengers between the stadiums and the airport. At the end of the tournament, he was told he had to return to Kenya and was still waiting for “World Cup advice” from his employers. I had promised.
My assignment ended on January 21st, almost exactly a month after the World Cup final, and I returned to Kenya 8 days later.
Looking back, I was treated well at times. We’ve all heard of the staff who died in the construction of the stadium, of all the injuries. We were locked up in Qatar, with controlled movements, so we didn’t see it in the user. “However, I was grateful for the remedy of my work.
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When I returned, I had the tip I had been promised in my pocket (the company eventually paid me everything I owed, plus benefits) and was looking for Kenya’s serene surroundings, food, and family. Of course.
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When I went to Qatar, I made a promise. I said I would give my family members monetary freedom and end poverty. But I’m sad because I haven’t lived up to my expectations.
Back in Kenya, life is tougher now. We live in a rural area, right by the coast, and things are especially harsh economically. There’s massive inflation and it means everything is expensive. The word is “unbearable”. I can only do my own small jobs, manual jobs doing farm work, or sometimes as a cab driver.
It’s time for me to get out there and look at pictures again. Here, with the state of the economy, I will not be able to realize my hopes. I still have friends there; My friends who are still there say that the exchange rate is incredibly high. due to inflation, which makes it possible to make a lot more money. I’m not there yet.
Joseph is also Kenyan and works as a security guard at the Lusail Stadium, which hosted 10 matches, including the final. There, after being informed that he would only work 8 hours a day, he was shocked to learn that 12 hours would be the minimum. However, like Victor, he wanted to stay in Qatar but was threatened with dismissal.
I was on duty that day. The news spread quickly: there was a massive police presence and screams from ambulances.
In the quarter-finals of the World Cup between Argentina and the Netherlands at Lusail Stadium, another Kenyan security guard, John, had died.
Our superiors told us not to talk about this with journalists, but to refer them to the control for comment. There’s a lot of secrecy.
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As for the rumours he was intoxicated… well, I don’t believe the same. In Qatar, it is so hard, near impossible, to get access to alcohol. Even if you can find it, it is damn expensive for a mere guard considering our small salary. I just always wonder whether his family was compensated.
(Hassan Al-Thawadi, secretary-general of Qatar’s Supreme Committee for Surrender and Legacy, claimed that a report on the death revealed that John Njau Kibue was “drunk” when he fell. )
I was immediately sent back to Kenya after the final. I’m from a rural area but am living in Kitengela, just south of Nairobi — I couldn’t go home because my two sons are at school in the city. I had missed the clean air and caring for my ailing mum.
Here I opened a coffee shop, where consumers come and surf the Internet by paying an additional fee. For now it helps me, but it’s not going very well.
As I only worked in Qatar for 3 months, I did not achieve the income source goals for my family. I’m in the process of returning for another short-term assignment – the Asian Cup (which will take place in Qatar in January and February) – and I’m just waiting for visa approval.
I know that workers there are still suffering, especially us guards working outdoors. Some of my colleagues I left behind have been complaining of too much heat — because the areas require patrolling, the weather is so harsh. I feel nothing has changed.
But I can’t fulfill my hopes at home in Kenya. There is an economic collapse after Covid-19 and everyone is struggling. That’s why I have to go back to Qatar, even with everything I know.
(Top photos: Getty Images; design: Eamonn Dalton)