By Prosper Mene
A growing crisis has emerged as Nigerian women, lured to Iraq with promises of well-paying domestic jobs, find themselves ensnared in what activists are calling “modern slavery.” Reports of severe abuse, exploitation, and desperate cries for rescue have sparked outrage and calls for urgent action from both Nigerian and Iraqi authorities.
These women, often from rural communities with limited resources, are targeted by recruiters promising a better life abroad. However, upon arrival in cities like Baghdad and Basra, their dreams shatter. Survivors recount harrowing experiences of 20-hour workdays, physical and sexual violence, and confiscated passports under Iraq’s controversial “kafala” system, which ties workers’ legal status to their employers.
One survivor, Agnes, a 27-year-old from Nigeria, shared her ordeal from a hostel in Basra: “I just want to go home and treat myself, but I can’t. The pain won’t stop.” Agnes alleges she was raped at gunpoint by her employer, forced into a traumatic abortion, and left with debilitating injuries, yet her recruitment agency refuses to release her from a two-year contract.
Damilola Adekola, co-founder of Hopes Haven Foundation, a Nigerian NGO tracking these cases, described the situation as dire. “It’s a form of modern slavery,” Adekola said. “These women are told, ‘We’ve bought you, so you have to work.’ There’s no medical care, no rest—just obscene hours and constant threats.” The foundation has been inundated with pleas for help, but rescuing these women is complicated by their isolation and lack of documentation, leaving them unable to pinpoint their locations for authorities.
The issue gained traction late last year when stories of survivors like Agnes and Eniola surfaced, prompting investigations by Nigeria’s National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP). Since May 2023, NAPTIP has flagged exploitative recruitment drives to Iraq, identifying rogue agents now under scrutiny. Yet, activists argue that both Nigerian and Iraqi governments have been slow to act. “There’s no system to monitor these women,” Adekola noted. “If employers knew the Nigerian government was watching, they might think twice.”
Social media has amplified the crisis, with one high-profile case in early 2025 igniting public fury and pressuring authorities. Despite assurances from Iraq’s interior ministry to investigate, and a rare success in securing the return of Odunayo Eniola Isaac on January 3, 2025, many remain trapped. The International Organization for Migration estimates over 221,000 people in Iraq endure slavery-like conditions, with Nigerian women among the most vulnerable.
Advocates urge immediate intervention. “These are our sisters, our daughters,” said Adekola. “Every day they stay trapped is a day too long.” For Agnes and countless others, the plea is simply saying bring us home.
