By Omboki Monayo
Doreen Kemunto still remembers the day she signed a contract that would change her life.
The document was in Arabic—a language she couldn’t read—but the agent’s reassurance, “there’s nothing to worry about,” convinced her to proceed.
Like thousands of young Kenyans, she dreamed of a better life abroad, lured by promises of well-paid jobs in Qatar.
A friend who had completed a two-year contract in Saudi Arabia recommended an agent she claimed could offer reliable employment opportunities in the Gulf nation.
“I was impressed by her glowing online profile and the way she spoke about the financial rewards of working in the Middle East,” Doreen recalls.
The agent arranged to meet her in Nairobi’s Central Business District, just outside the Kenya National Archives.
“It was a brief encounter. He asked for my documents, the registration fee, and money for medical tests. A week later, I underwent the medical check-up with a group of other women. Two weeks after that, I received my flight date,” she says.
At Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA), the agent handed her a contract—this time for a hospital cleaner’s position. Despite her misgivings over the unreadable Arabic script, the agent’s repeated assurances eased her fears.
Her mind was consumed with dreams of prosperity as she boarded the flight.
But instead of Qatar, the flight took her first to Ethiopia’s Bole International Airport.
“My luggage was left behind in Nairobi and has never been traced. We had to wait 24 hours for our connecting flight,” she says.
When they finally landed, it wasn’t Qatar—it was Lebanon. Her supposed employer picked her up directly from the airport.
It was only after a week that the mother of one realized she had been trafficked.
“When I asked about the hospital job, my employer calmly told me I had been bought as a domestic worker. My fees had been paid in full,” she says, her voice trembling at the memory.
For four months, she worked without pay. Eventually, she convinced her agent in Lebanon to transfer her to another household. Conditions there were slightly better—until tragedy struck at home.
“My brother was in a road accident. When I asked to go home, the woman of the house attacked me. Her father-in-law rescued me,” she recalls.
She was eventually repatriated, but only after forfeiting a year’s wages to cover her flight home.
“I knew it was a rip-off, but I was desperate to return to my son.”
A Crisis Growing in Silence
Doreen’s ordeal is far from unique. Across Kenya, thousands of desperate jobseekers are falling victim to sophisticated human trafficking networks that exploit their dreams of overseas employment.
Roseline Njogu, Kenya’s Principal Secretary for Diaspora Affairs, warns of a troubling trend.
“Traffickers are now targeting educated and tech-savvy youth, coercing them into cyber-scamming in countries like Myanmar and Thailand.”
An estimated 10,000 Kenyans are currently trapped in exploitative conditions abroad. In 2024 alone, over 500 were reportedly trafficked to the Middle East—mainly to Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar. But Southeast Asia is fast emerging as a new danger zone.
“We’ve seen a 30% surge in trafficking cases linked to Southeast Asia’s Golden Triangle,” says PS Njogu, referring to the lawless border region between Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand, notorious for criminal enterprises.
One common tactic traffickers use is issuing tourist visas with promises of converting them to work permits later.
“That’s a major red flag,” Njogu warns. “Legitimate employment must begin with proper documentation.”
With Kenya’s youth unemployment hovering around 40%, many ignore the warning signs.
The cost of these false dreams is high—literally. Recruitment fees can range from KSh 40,000 to 150,000, depending on destination and job description.
“We paid KSh 46,000 for jobs in the Philippines. Instead, we ended up in forced cyber-scamming camps in Myanmar,” says Alex Gitonga, a survivor.
Alex was among 77 Kenyans rescued in April 2025 from captivity in a rebel-run scam operation.
“We endured beatings, electric shocks, starvation, and endless work shifts. We smuggled in a phone and used Telegram to reach the Kenyan ambassador,” he says.
Filling the Void: HAART Kenya Steps In
After their return, both Doreen and Alex were referred to HAART Kenya (Awareness Against Human Trafficking), a nonprofit helping survivors heal and reintegrate.
To date, the organization has supported over 1,400 survivors, and reached more than 100,000 Kenyans through community outreach.
“The employment crisis is the root cause,” says Winnie Mutevu, HAART Kenya’s Advocacy and Partnerships Manager. “Millions are educated but jobless, leaving them vulnerable.”
Despite the Counter-Trafficking in Persons Act of 2010, which prescribes life imprisonment and fines up to KSh 30 million, no agent has been successfully prosecuted for trafficking Kenyans overseas.
“We have an advocate to walk with survivors and help them seek justice,” Mutevu adds.
HAART also provides counseling, vocational training, startup capital, and even basic necessities.
“Some survivors come home with nothing—not even a mattress. We help them rebuild,” she says.
For Doreen, healing has begun. She’s now studying hair and beauty and has vowed never to leave her son again.
“I came back with nothing. But now I value every moment with my child.”
Alex remains haunted by nightmares and has chosen not to pursue legal redress.
“The person who trafficked me is powerful. I’d rather move on.”
But he doesn’t take freedom for granted.
“Being home with my family is something I used to overlook. Now, it’s everything.”
At the Manila airport, as he was being flown home, he saw more Kenyans arriving.
“Fresh recruits were still landing. The cycle continues,” he says.
The Bigger Picture
Ms Mutevu believes Kenya has yet to address the intersection of trafficking and its root causes.
“We lack strong bilateral protections for workers. Without legal safeguards in host and transit countries, Kenyans remain exposed.”
PS Njogu echoes the warning: “Always verify job offers through official channels. Use only licensed recruitment agencies listed on the NEA website. Avoid tourist visas for work travel.”
With youth making up 35% of Kenya’s population—and unemployment among them as high as 67%, according to the National Council for Population and Development—the lure of foreign jobs is unlikely to fade soon.
“Desperation overrides caution,” says Mutevu. “That’s the tragedy.”
A National Call to Action
According to HAART, Kenya needs stronger enforcement of trafficking laws, revised labor treaties with host nations and expanded economic programs to reduce the desperation driving migration.
“Until we tackle unemployment and close legal loopholes, trafficking will persist,” Mutevu warns.
PS Njogu adds: “The online space poses a major challenge. That’s where much of this recruitment happens.”
Her message to Kenyans is firm:
“Remain vigilant. Always use verified, standard labour mobility pathways. Get a valid work permit before leaving. And never travel on a visitor visa for work.”
As Doreen and Alex rebuild their lives, they also carry a message of hope—and caution.
“I wouldn’t wish my experience on anyone,” Doreen says. “But I’m stronger now. And I’m home.”