What their eyes told me
Fatima Outidir, Country Representative, Morocco, Echos Communication
Peter Casaer, photos
For several years, the Karamati project enabled me to meet domestic workers in different cities across the Rabat-Salé-Kénitra region. Through these encounters and conversations, I gradually came to know them better.
I met women facing a spouse’s illness, divorce, widowhood, or the responsibility of raising children on their own. I learned that behind every domestic worker lies a life story far more complex than we often imagine. Many women do not truly choose this profession. They do it above all to survive.
This distinction is essential.
These women are not defined by their work alone. They carry immense responsibilities. They care for their loved ones. They shoulder burdens that are rarely considered when discussing domestic work.
When the unacceptable becomes ordinary
What struck me most was the matter-of-fact way in which some women spoke about extremely harsh realities.
Twelve-hour workdays without breaks. Years of undeclared employment, sometimes lasting twenty years or more. Dismissals without notice. Illness without social protection or access to healthcare.
As if all of this were normal, routine, acceptable. But how can the unacceptable ever be accepted?
Some women also spoke of physical, psychological, or sexual violence. Not always directly. Sometimes in passing. Sometimes only after several meetings.
I heard stories of humiliation, verbal abuse, excessive control, sexual harassment, and situations of extreme vulnerability. Yet what affected me most were the everyday forms of violence. The kinds of violence that become so common that people eventually stop recognizing them as violence.
Being treated as if you matter less. Being regarded as inferior. Being replaced overnight without any guarantee or security. Working for years without social protection. Growing old after a lifetime of work without a pension. These forms of violence leave deep scars.
Vulnerability, power and injustice
Not all domestic workers experience the same realities. Some speak of respectful employers who value their work and treat them with dignity. Others describe particularly harsh forms of exploitation.
Yet one theme comes up again and again: vulnerability. The fear of losing one’s job. The absence of social protection. The obligation to accept conditions that no one would willingly accept if they truly had a choice. I believe that this is often where injustice lies.
It is not only a matter of domination between individuals. It is also a system in which some people have the power to set the rules, while others have very little room to manoeuvre and must reluctantly accept the terms imposed upon them.
This domination may be economic. It may be social. It may be linked to gender, education, illiteracy, or poverty. Often, all these dimensions overlap.
But we must remain vigilant. Reducing these women to their suffering would also be a form of injustice. We must be careful not to reinforce the very stereotypes we seek to challenge. Their lives cannot be reduced to what they have endured.
They also speak of dignity, resilience, and courage. Despite the difficulties, these women continue to move forward, to work, to support their families, and to care for others.
Signs of Change
The Karamati project has also shown that attitudes can evolve. I have seen women who once hesitated to speak begin to tell their stories. I have seen women who knew nothing about their rights begin to claim them. I have witnessed growing self-confidence.
Law 19-12 represented an important step forward. This must be acknowledged. But a law only has meaning when it is known, understood, and applied. Yet many women had never heard of it before taking part in the project. Today, the challenge is no longer simply the existence of the law. It is its appropriation by society.
It is about fully recognizing domestic workers as workers in their own right, entitled to the same rights and dignity as anyone else. Change is sometimes slow. But it is happening. I have seen the signs.
What their eyes told me
What touches me most are the silent journeys. Not everything is said during interviews. Not everything is expressed in conversations. What their eyes have told me, without words always being spoken, often goes far beyond what is actually said.
In those eyes, I see immense responsibilities, worries, sacrifices, but also remarkable strength. I stand before women who carry entire lives on their shoulders. Women who keep moving forward despite insecurity, uncertainty, and countless obstacles. Each of them is a story waiting to be told and shared.
And perhaps that is what matters most: creating spaces where these voices can finally be heard.
Fatima Outidir, Country Representative, Morocco, Echos Communication
Gardening school – Another side of Karamati
The young women gardeners represent another facet of the project. Many come from modest backgrounds.
Some left school at an early age. Others never imagined they could pursue a profession traditionally considered a male occupation. What impresses me most is their growing self-confidence.
When I listen to them today, I see women who are gaining assurance, looking toward the future, and daring to imagine creating their own businesses. Empowerment often begins with something simple: believing that there is a place for you.
Today, Bouchra, Majda, Maïma, and many others believe it.
About Karamati
The Karamati project—meaning “my dignity” in Arabic—supports domestic workers and young gardeners in the Rabat-Salé-Kénitra region of Morocco: people working in the informal sector who are often invisible and frequently confronted with precarious living conditions, domination, and social injustice.
Led by the Belgian NGO Echos Communication, the project strengthens the autonomy of women and men through awareness-raising on labour rights, training workshops, and local trade union networks.
It helps participants gain independence, defend their rights, and access safer and fairer working conditions.
About Echos Communication
Echos Communication is a Belgian NGO active in Morocco, Senegal, and Belgium in the fields of social justice, labour rights, and inclusion.
Working alongside local partners and other Belgian organizations, it supports grassroots projects aimed at vulnerable populations, particularly women, young people, and migrants.
The organization acts as a bridge between civil society organizations and local and regional authorities.
Its mission is to strengthen access to rights, promote autonomy, and contribute to fairer living and working conditions.