Ate Mariza joined our household in 1990 at the age of 21. With both my parents working full-time, they relied heavily on our “kasambahay” to look after me and my sister during the day. A unique and cherished memory I have of Ate Mariza is her dedication to my education. Every time I had an upcoming exam for school, she would read my textbooks and meticulously craft practice tests that, at times, were even more challenging than my actual exams. I credit her for instilling in me the foundation of strong study habits.
Two weeks ago, Ate Mariza found me through Messenger. Even if she last saw me when I was eight years old, we started chatting as if no time had passed at all. She shared how proud she felt each time I made the honor roll and recalled how my dad would treat all of us, including Ate Mariza and our other kasambahay, Ate Susan, to a restaurant of my choice as a celebration of my school achievements. She said she never forgot her time with us because my parents made her feel that she was genuinely part of our family—a stark contrast to her experience with some employers who made her feel inferior.
In 2013, the Philippines enacted Republic Act No. 10361, commonly known as the kasambahay law, intending to elevate the status and rights of domestic workers in the country. The term “kasambahay” implies companionship—a recognition of these workers as honorary family members. However, recent news has exposed the continued vulnerability of kasambahay to mistreatment. In a Senate investigation, Elvie Vergara, a domestic helper from Occidental Mindoro, shared how her former employers allegedly abused her, including their teenage children who used a hanger to physically assault her. Medical reports showed severe injuries to her skull, suggesting traumatic abuse. Although her former employers denied these allegations, such stories cast a dark shadow over the state of domestic worker rights in the Philippines.
Enforcement of regulations aimed at protecting kasambahay appears alarmingly weak. For instance, despite the strict prohibition in RA 10361 against employing minors, a 2019 survey conducted by the Philippine Statistics Authority, found there are over 40,000 child domestic workers. Vergara’s case further exposed gaps in the law’s implementation. Despite the mandate for barangays to have an official kasambahay registry, her employers had never registered Vergara. This aligns with a 2022 report by former Department of the Interior and Local Government secretary Eduardo Año, who highlighted that only 3,359 out of 42,000 barangays had complied with this requirement, urging barangay chairs to be more proactive in establishing the registration system. Given the unique challenges posed by private home-based employment in terms of regulation, stricter enforcement to ensure government registration compliance may be the only means to deter abuse and guarantee comprehensive protection for both employees and employers under the law.
In addition, lawmakers must revisit the mechanisms for effectively dealing with reports of abuse and violations. In 2021, Vergara escaped from her employers but the barangay chairperson supposedly informed them about her location instead of helping her. Resources must be allocated not just to educate the kasambahay about their rights, but also to provide government personnel with intensive training to identify and respond to suspected cases of abuse.
These kasambahay are integral to the Philippine economy and social fabric. They shoulder the responsibility of caring for our most vulnerable family members and performing the most challenging household tasks. Employers have a collective responsibility not just to protect and advocate for their rights, but also to help elevate the way society values their contributions. The way Ate Mariza cared for me during my formative years significantly contributed to shaping the person I am today.
In 1993, Ate Mariza made the difficult decision to leave our home to be closer to her family. Her father had promised to send her to college, and although my mom offered to sponsor her education, she chose to honor her father’s wishes. Tragically, just a year into her studies, her father was fatally shot, compelling her to find work again to support her mother and siblings. Though she did not fulfill her dream of graduating from college, she finds solace in the successes of her children. Her two daughters became DOST scholars and are now public school teachers, while her son is an aspiring engineer. I playfully suggested that her talent for creating review materials had something to do with their accomplishments.
Three days ago, Ate Mariza messaged me, inviting me to Cebu to celebrate her 58th birthday next month. Without hesitation, I accepted. Beyond the years and the miles, we are family.
eleanor@shetalksasia.com