By Olivia Vicol and Oksana* - 22 April 2022
Oksana* came to the UK in August 2021 on a Seasonal Worker visa. Together with her partner, a medical student, she was determined to work hard on a farm for the six months the visa allowed it, to raise some money and kickstart their lives in Ukraine - with him as a surgeon, and her as an IT specialist. She could never predict how their plans would change.
The work conditions on the farm were more akin to modern slavery than the contract they had been promised, with impossible daily targets for apple picking, forced for hours on end to carry baskets that damaged their backs, and deprived of any rest breaks. So they fled, and in October that year they found work in the underground economy in London. They didn't have a choice. Having paid for the visa, the flight ticket, and all the equipment required on site, they were already in debt and desperate to recoup the costs, even if it meant working cash in hand, without a visa. What they didn't expect was that the war would entrap them in this precarious arrangement.
At the time of writing, Oksana falls through the cracks of every visa scheme introduced by the Home Office in response to the war in Ukraine. She doesn't have family in the UK, so the Family Scheme is out of the question. The Homes for Ukraine is also not an option, because it explicitly excludes Ukrainians who, like her, are already in the UK. Even the Extension Scheme introduced more recently for Ukrainians on seasonal worker visas is a closed door, as it requires applicants to have had a valid leave to remain on 01 January 2022. Having fled the farm back in October, she most likely lost her status, as Visa Operators contracted by the Home Office to manage seasonal workers are required to notify the Home Office when one of them leaves. Today, her only option is to apply for asylum, which can take a year or more to obtain if the claim is successful.
Oksana and her partner are two of many Ukrainians who find themselves excluded from the Home Office's visa-based response to the war in Ukraine. At the Work Rights Centre, we know of 15. This is just the tip of the iceberg. They are at risk, and they deserve better. We call on the Home Office to grant them protection, and to fix the asylum system which, in its current state, confines them to year-long waits in substandard conditions, and without the right to work.
The essay below is an anonymised translation of Oksana's detailed response to the questions of a journalist, who responded to our call to advocate for the protection of undocumented Ukrainians. You can read the article here. More importantly, you can write to your MP to call on the government to give Ukrainians a status in the UK.
My boyfriend and I came from Ukraine last summer. The Temporary Worker visa type is the easiest one to get. And we hoped that it would solve our financial problems in a matter of six months. The "Visa Operator" promised to provide us with work, housing, health and accident insurance and financial assistance if we got Covid-19 (with £500 coverage).
Other people came there with us too — single or whole families, all for different reasons. It was mostly people with difficult situations in life who came to work on the farm. For example, to be able to repay a loan, to earn money for study, or a father with a big family who came to earn money for his children; or to pay rent, medical bills, or to grow a small business; to buy an apartment, or a car, or to pay for a wedding.
Before talking about the experience on the farms we've worked on, I would like to tell you about people from Ukraine.
Ukrainians are very hardworking. We are taught from early childhood the necessity of work. In addition to working five days a week, many of us have gardens, which are not for lounging, but for growing vegetables, fruits and berries. When the working week is over at our regular jobs, we go to work in our gardens. This is not only for joy, but also to cut down expenses, as well as to have the opportunity to sell the surplus harvest. (Our note: Wages in Ukraine are among the lowest in Europe, according to the ILO). Even from traditional folk jokes you can understand that hard work is in our blood. Often if your neighbour says: "How much longer can you work? Go get some rest, dear neighbour!". You would answer: "I will rest in the next life!". This is a joke, but the meaning is clear: work while you have time in this world.
As I said earlier, the "Visa Operator" has promised a lot, but has delivered very little. We filled out their Google form survey to get a job. There were questions regarding our preferences of vegetables to collect. I have chosen mushrooms, because a friend of mine had worked on a similar farm. After finishing the survey, the Google form displayed a farm we'd been selected for. When closing the form however, the information was not saved anywhere (unless you took a screenshot for your own records). As it turned out, it was important to do so, since we were deceived at every stage of our stay at the farm, asked for evidence of what we had filled out, and of which farm we were assigned to.
Prior to our arrival in the UK, we were promised full time hours per week and the opportunity to work overtime. They said that there would be housing in shared trailers for 6 people, supplied with water, gas, showers, and toilets. They promised us a regular shuttle to work and to the store, with a schedule that was, in fact, never followed.
Everyone has spent a lot of money on work clothes and other items: shoes, medicines, bedding, pots, plates, etc. (everything they have requested on the list). We have also spent money on the visa, and the flight as well as the living costs prior to the start of the actual job. Some people were fraudulently charged for what have been, in fact, free vacancies.
At 3am I had to get up for work
It was not easy to get there either: starting with the five hours journey in a minibus, three hours before check-in waiting for a flight, followed by three hours flight, and four hours drive to the office; then two hours of signing the contracts and distribution to the campsites, with further two hours drive to the store (mind we’ve had all of our belongings with us) and one hour of shopping with another hour drive to follow. We arrived at the campsite at 7 p.m. Despite all of the above, at 3 a.m. the next morning I had to get up for work. And that is exactly what we all did: with swollen legs, exhausted, without the proper sleep, after driving for 2 hours to work and having worked all day wearing 7 kg of weight on the chest. The container could not be put on the ground and had to be filled with berries to the rim. It was incredibly difficult to get up the next day with feet covered in bruises, skin on the hands cracked and bleeding, as gloves were prohibited there. Those who did not show up at work on the first day were punished with threats of being sent home and suspended from work.
"The contract is for display only"
Here are a few details regarding the process of signing the contract with a farm. Everyone was brought into a small room and placed at tables of six people. Contracts were provided in English, and not given in Ukrainian. They did not speak Russian well, not to mention the Ukrainian language. They have been dictating to everyone what to write and where to sign. If something does not satisfy you in the contract, they say: "This contract is for display only. Write what you have been told, you will have everything later." Or they would offer a return home in a rude manner. After we handed over the contracts, one copy of the contract in Ukrainian language was thrown at a table of six people, with a comment: "At least have a look at what you have signed." (Our note: Oksana had the foresight to take a picture of the Ukrainian version of her contract). From that copy we understood that we had signed contracts for 32 hours per week to pick up apples, regardless of the choices we made when we filled out that Google form, before arriving in the UK. Until the apple season started, the workers were basically to be leased out to other farms.
People would rush to queue for the shower before the water ran out
Housing turned out to be equipped with a kitchen, shower and toilet, but without the water, or gas and no sewage. So, I had to walk very far to cook, wash, or use the toilet. The number of showers was not enough for the number of people, as well as the water pressure in them. After work people would rush to take their place in long lines, while the hot water was running out fast, so we had to wait until it heated up again.
It was scary to admit that you were sick
Coming out of the shower and walking back into the house, we often caught a cold. But there was no help from the "Visa Operator" and the farm, there wasn't even a thermometer to measure your temperature. It was scary to admit that you were sick: they would put you in quarantine even if you did not have Covid-19. It was impossible to prove that you are not ill with Covid-19, as out of five rapid tests for Covid-19, three would show that you are healthy and the other two that you are ill.
Travelling to and from work was taking a long time, more than an hour one way. Drivers often got into accidents and people were late for work, not to mention that it was dangerous. They paid us only for work on the field, we did not receive any compensation for being late due to the fault of the driver. I can recall four accidents. Once we were purposely delayed for 3 hours from work by slow driving so that the "Visa Operator" office was closed, and we did not have time to go there with complaints and applications for a transfer.
Another time there was no shuttle to home or work, and we, being already exhausted, had to walk. They rarely took us to the store to buy water and food.
When many of the workers on the campsite decided to protest against working and living conditions, everyone involved was punished by being suspended for a week.
They set unachievable standards
Their attitude was terrible. They set unachievable standards. Through threats and humiliation, people were forced to work tirelessly wearing off the skin on their hands and feet till it bled. If a person fell off a stepladder, he was sent to a campsite to recover on his own or to fly home.
There were very few toilets, washbasins and lounge areas. We didn't eat or drink in our ten minutes of break time, instead, we stood in the line for the toilet. Every time there was an inspection, the number of toilets would be increased, but it only happened twice. Also, the toilets were rarely cleaned, often there was no water and no toilet paper.
They would always arrange days off, so that people would not work more than they were supposed to per week and would not get paid more. They would punish people for everything with an immediate suspension from work and no payment for the next day. Some people haven't even got the thirty hours per week that were promised to them, and the housing fee would be still charged.
The £500 Covid insurance was never paid
The problem with those who were ill with Covid-19 was solved simply by closing the whole house for quarantine for two weeks, and by paying nine pounds per day. The £500 insurance coverage that we were promised was never provided. They also never failed to charge for housing, although the contract states that this cannot be done when people are in quarantine. Once a week, at the expense of the person who is ill, they would buy us food and medicines. You couldn't go out, otherwise you would be fired, even if you had nothing to drink and eat.
Transfers to other farms were never completed
Not everyone had a workload, so when managers arrived, the workers rushed to sign up for work, but they were often deceived and put in hopeless situations. Transfers to other farms were rarely completed, even if the farms were ready to accept us and this was agreed with all their managers. (Our note: one of the places Oksana had been sent to work before apple season began was a packhouse where she enjoyed working and was treated well. However, she was not allowed to transfer there even though they were ready to take her).
People's health was completely jeopardised
The apple season has begun. [...] Some of the workers went to pick up apples in an incredibly large container that they wore on their chests. They were not allowed to put it down and risk knocking the apples. People's health was completely jeopardised: their backs were injured, some had nausea, vomiting, some girls had pain in the lower abdomen, and, sometimes, bleeding.
Gradually, people disappointed by that attitude left to work illegally in the cities in order to solve their financial problems and protect their wellbeing. The farm has called for another 200 people from Ukraine and the "Visa Operator" employees laughed at us, because for every person who comes through their company, they receive money both from the government and the farm.
By then the entire huge campsite of people fled, with thirty-eight people left on site, after they set the conditions that whoever does not pick up apples won't move into a new campsite with water, gas, a toilet and a shower in the trailer. The rest of us should resign and leave, otherwise they would be left without the water and gas. The campsite had already been sold and the buildings had begun to be demolished.
Those people who stayed have continued to ask for a transfer and to reach out to all the authorities to protect their rights. One of the drivers said that we had to pay bribes to be transferred.
As soon as everyone left, paid for their housing, found their first jobs in the city, the "Visa Operator" began to constantly threaten people that they would be deported, requested to provide proof of our departure from the UK, and outbound tickets. (Our note: this happened after some workers started uploading videos of their experience on YouTube.)
I was there from August 2021 until October 2022. We extended our stay, the reason being that many people were suffering from Covid-19 in our region in Ukraine. When we started thinking of going back home, our relatives suggested not to rush it. Moreover, there were already threats of invasion in Ukraine by January.
We left the farm due to the following reasons:
During my stay in the UK, I met many people from Ukraine who have worked on different farms. My personal conclusion from all of their cases is that I will never go to work on any of the farms again — there are no happy stories. Everyone runs away!
In the first few days, it was impossible to believe that this happened. I've worked and cried, unable to cope. Not knowing what to do about it, I kept reading news about Ukraine and my city in particular. It was so painful and scary. Not being able to protect my relatives, sometimes I felt like I was losing my mind when I couldn't get in touch with my family. The Russian army deliberately attacked and bombed cities and villages, deprived electrical networking, set up roadblocks, fired at civilians, didn't let the food supplies in, bombed hospitals and kindergartens, houses, factories, cars and killed people.
My whole life is transferred into a small phone's screen - I can't stop watching and absorbing this horror. I need to know everything that's going on in my country, whether my relatives, friends and people I know are alive. [...] I feel so sorry for those people who died, there are so many of them. Each of them is a valuable member of society. I believe that they could have influenced everything, changed everything, they could have lived and there is already a meaning in it. We have lost so many people who could change the future of Ukraine, developing it, making it rich and prosperous. Now, they can no longer help...
After moving to London, I have found a job as a cleaning lady, which is physically and mentally difficult. I work from seven and a half to fourteen hours a day. Every day I breathe in chemicals, burning my skin and airways, even the mask does not help.
My boyfriend works at the construction site as a labourer with irregular working hours. The work-scope varies but it is very physically demanding. He also breathes in construction dust and chemicals, freezes outdoors, can't feel his hands after lifting heavy weights.
Since our visa type does not permit this type of work and has expired at the moment, any client or employer can accuse us of anything and not pay for work at all. Also, you can't get sick, there is no medical insurance.
Recently, my manager asked me to apply for a bank card, which is an impossible thing to do for me. The landlord has a dispute with another tenant and plans to kick us and all the residents out of the house. It is impossible to rent new housing without a valid visa. Returning to Ukraine is simply not safe.
Our work and how we are being treated puts a strong pressure on us. I can't even get free training without the documents. If a crime is committed against me, I won't be able to report it to the police, it will put me in even greater danger.
It is mentally difficult to work as a cleaner when having two university degrees. And it is impossible to get a normal job, being a nobody without the papers.
It's hard for me to see my boyfriend wasting his time, wellbeing and talent on a construction site, when, in fact, he dreamed of being a surgeon! He can't help people or save lives, and he can't do what he loves, because there is no way to exchange his visa. The thought of ending up being unhappy on unloved jobs is terrifying.
I am asking the UK government to allow the exchange of our visa type to any other in order to save us all. You must understand that Ukrainians are good and grateful people. We can be useful for both your country and Ukraine. Give us the opportunity to survive by providing at least a hint of happiness in this difficult time. [...] Give us at least the opportunity to thrive and work in our specific sectors and be fulfilled by it. We have enough distress. Save our lives.
*Name changed to protect anonymity
If you have been moved by this article, please take action by writing to your MP to call on the government to give Ukrainians in Oksana's situation status in the UK. To support the Work Rights Centre's multilingual team as we provide assistance to Ukrainian refugees in the UK (and en route to the UK), please make a donation.
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