By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
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By Jon Campbell
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She considered showing up in disguise. But in the end, Keabetswe Letsididi decided she couldn't attend the protest, held last Sunday afternoon, on her behalf. Sunglasses and a scarf wouldn't obscure her five-foot, bone-thin frame. A 23-year-old Botswanan domestic worker who is here without legal status and is the plaintiff in a federal lawsuit against a United Nations diplomat, she felt the risk of discovery was too great.
She had, after all, run away from her former employer, Leutlwetse Mmualefe, the deputy permanent representative and chargé d'affaires (i.e., acting ambassador) for Botswana's mission to the UN. This February, she carried out a year-old plan to escape from his Forest Hills home, where she worked as a live-in nanny and housekeeper. She arranged for friends to put her up, and snuck her belongings out one bagful at a time. Then one evening, while the others were busy elsewhere in the five-bedroom house, she slipped out a side door and disappeared.
Four months later, on June 6, 2001, she filed a federal lawsuit against Mmualefe, charging he had employed her "under conditions which were tantamount to involuntary servitude." He had paid her no wages whatsoever for more than 40 hours of work per week between July 1999 and March 2000 and only $250 per month from April 2000 to January 2001, according to her complaint. Mmualefe refused to provide the penniless worker with clothing, medicine, and, at certain points, food, Letsididi claims. She says he forbade her from using the telephone and computer, from making friends and going to church, and, ultimately, from leaving.
Asked to comment last week by the Voice, Mmualefe said, "I'm not sure that I can do that," and did not, in fact, respond to any of Letsididi's allegations. He added, "I need to explain my own side of the story to the authorities that are in a position to deal with this matter," that is, he said, the U.S. State Department and the Botswanan government. "Not that I don't care," he said. "I am concerned."
Letsididi says she doubts he is. "I told him, I'm not happy in his home, and I feel like I have to go home [to Botswana]. He said I have to work for him whether I like it or not," she says, recalling a dispute with Mmualefe last year.
In 1999 Mmualefe had convinced the young woman to leave her parents in Botswana and accompany him to New York, where she would clean his house and care for his two children, by promising that he would provide her with a college education, she says. The deal, she says, was never supposed to exclude fair compensation for her labor. He brought her into the U.S. on a G-5 visa, one of several types issued by the U.S. that bind an immigrant's legal status directly to her employer under a sponsorship agreement.
Only after nine months of unpaid work on her part, she says, did Mmualefe allow her to enroll at LaGuardia Community College in Long Island City. "I thought I'd have a chance now to go out and have friends, instead of being in the house seven days," says Letsididi, who wanted to go to school to change careers, possibly by becoming a nurse. But, she claims, her boss's meddling became worse. "He said my friends would control me. But he was controlling me."
She says tensions with her employer forced her to drop out of school after two or three weeks. That's when she told Mmualefe she wanted to return home to Botswana. He refused to let her leave, she says, but he did start paying her $250 per montheven as a weekly salary, that amount would have violated minimum wage requirements, based on the number of working hours Letsididi has reported.
Plus, the wages came with a catch. "He started saying I'm owing him the rent, food, linens, before I leave his house"a requirement that, Letsididi says, would have consumed all her earnings and then some. He also demanded she reimburse him for the price of her plane ticket from Botswana to New York and for her visa, according to the court complaint. "But he's not the one who's paying. The Botswana government is paying," Letsididi suspects.
She says Mmualefe told people he thought of her "as a daughter." If she needed any more proof to the contrary, she says, it came last January, when she contracted chicken pox from his youngest son.
"I can show you the marks," she offers during her interview with the Voice, rolling up her sleeve and pulling aside her collar to reveal the telltale scars. She says she showed her employer the bumps and told him she had a fever. "They wanted me to work," she says of Mmualefe and his wife, "but I couldn't." After she'd been ill a week, she says, "they called me into their room and asked me why I can't just wake up and do the work.
"I decided to leave," the worker says. She made up her mind in early 2000, but it took her a year to figure out how. "I didn't know where to go, how to make it." An acquaintance eventually found a number for her to call, which led to a long string of referrals. "So many phone calls" later, Letsididi says, she found the Women Workers Project of CAAAV Organizing Asian Communities, which organizes immigrant domestic workers. A staffer there helped, over two days of phone conversations, to solidify her plan to run away.