Through this story, we explore the risks of being unseen as a caregiver, especially in the midst of a deadly outbreak. The precarity of their situation is exacerbated by not being seen as a ‘worker’ with basic rights by their employers, and their dependence on the employers for their work visas.

Hey, Hijau. You must be thirsty.

I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to water you for the past two weeks. I was sick with Covid-19.

I hope Boss or Mama watered you. But maybe they did not – some of your leaves are turning yellow.

Did you miss me? I missed you!

You have been the only one I could talk to in this house.

Well, I can talk to my family on the phone too, but Boss keeps my phone and only allows me to call home once a month for 15 minutes.

I used to be able to walk to the morning market and talk to the vendors and other domestic workers doing their shopping, but the market has closed since the pandemic began.

Most of the time, no one else is in this house other than Aunty. She is Boss’ mother.

You don’t see her because she has been bedridden since a stroke, so she stays upstairs in her room all the time.

But I’d rather not talk to her because she is always in a bad mood.

She often scolds me for being too slow when changing her diapers, or wiping her down, or feeding her medicine.

I swear I would’ve gone mad if I didn’t have you to talk to, Hijau!

Okay, my sister would probably say I’m already mad since I’m talking to a plant.

I miss my sister.

I was living with her for the past two weeks when I was Covid-19 positive. She is a domestic worker like me, but working and living with another family.

I’m lucky that my sister’s employer let me quarantine in her old bedroom.

Since their eldest daughter moved overseas, they told my sister to move upstairs into her room because it is bigger.

But my sister’s old room was actually nice too. It’s almost the same size as the one I have now, but I was shocked to see a TV as I haven’t been able to watch one properly in years. The room even has its own bathroom!

That family was kind; they knew I had no place to go.

When Boss and Mama saw my positive COVID test, they immediately said that I could not stay in the house.

Even when I promised to quarantine myself in my own room all day, they insisted that I find another place to stay, like at a cheap hotel nearby.

But I didn’t have the money, so I called my sister for help. Luckily, when her employer heard about this, they told me to stay in their house instead.

To be honest, Boss and Mama’s reaction hurt me.

After all, I got infected by Aunty, who was tested positive for Covid-19 the week before. It shocked everyone, because Aunty never left the house.

Perhaps Boss, or Mama, or one of the children had the virus but did not show symptoms. The rest of the family stayed far away from Aunty, but I was instructed to take care of her like usual.

I wore a facemask and obediently did my job.

There were so many times that I felt alone.

Like when Aunty was so sick that she vomited on herself a few times, and I needed help to lift her and clean her properly. Or when she looked like she had trouble breathing. I did not know what to do.

I asked Boss and Mama, but they said I should figure it out because they did not want the hassle of taking her to the hospital.

Aunty was also coughing so much that I had to help her sit up throughout the night so that she could cough out the mucus.

But when I became sick, I was asked to leave. Hijau, wouldn’t you feel mad too?

But you won’t get infected with Covid-19, right? Be thankful, because it felt terrible. My throat was like a desert and my entire body felt like it was on fire.

But it could have been worse; my sister told me that two of our uncles back in our village died from the virus.

I cried when I heard the news. These uncles helped me pay some of the recruitment agency fees to come to Malaysia to work.

It pained me that I didn’t even know they died; the last time I was allowed to call my family was last month.

But even if I knew, I wouldn’t be able to travel home to pay my last respects to them—Boss would scold me if I asked for a few days off from work.

I think the Covid-19 virus is so dangerous because the human eye can’t see it. If Boss and Mama can see the virus, maybe they would stop visiting their friends or hold house parties so often. I really don’t want to be infected again.

But my wants and needs, like the virus, are invisible to Boss and Mama. They don’t see it, so it does not exist to them.

Like how much I miss my family at home and want to talk to them more often. And like how I asked for one Sunday off every two weeks to rest, but Boss and Mama ended up going out and leaving Aunty to me on those days.

Not just my needs – sometimes, I think everything I do is invisible to this family. They do not seem interested in getting to know me.

The only time they talk to me is when they need something done, or when they get angry at me for not doing it immediately, even though I’m busy with another task.

I feel like a ghost in the background washing the bathrooms, cooking, cleaning up, doing the laundry, bathing and feeding the children, cleaning the car porch, even some minor plumbing.

I take on everything that needs doing at home so that Boss and Mama can focus on their careers.

Once, when one of the kids fell sick, Mama told me to attend an online tuition class on his behalf so that I could teach him later. When I did it successfully, Mama was impressed.

I told her that I graduated with full distinctions from high school and was actually supposed to go to college.

But my father had lost his job, so I came to Malaysia to work as a domestic worker instead.

The result? More work. Mama told me to check her children’s homework every day after they go to bed.

Don’t complain, I tell myself. My work is my home now, so I have to be careful. If I make Boss and Mama angry, I may be sent back to my country.

My family needs my income. I have to help pay for my mother’s upcoming knee surgery, and my two younger brothers are going to college soon.

But I know work does not have to be this stressful. My sister told me I have rights too, but in the end, we both agreed that my employer may fire me if I ask for better treatment.

They are not as understanding as her employer. She gets to keep her passport, even her phone!

I mean, they still asked her to do a lot of cleaning and disinfecting when COVID-19 was really bad—she told me she had to sanitise all the groceries and disinfect the hallway three times when her employers returned home.

But it seems like they understand she gets tired; they let her have a day of rest each week and evenings off.

I also want a day of rest every week, and to be able to go off the clock in the evening and relax. I want a safe workplace where people are concerned about my health.

I want employers who can see that I am a human with the same needs as they have—rest, fun, companionship, and care. I want to be recognised as a worker with basic rights.

I know what I want is possible. My sister gets all that. But we are dependent on whether our employers can see us and our needs.

Not being seen can be so scary. Perhaps you understand this too, Hijau, when no one watered you for two weeks.

Oh, I have to go, I can hear Boss yelling for me. Seems like he can’t find his video game controller again.

I’m glad you’re still alive, Hijau.

I’m glad we’re both still alive.