Faruk (centre) speaks to our volunteer

Over thirteen years in Singapore and five jobs, Faruk paid, he estimates, a staggering total of $14,500 to various agents.

I sit with this seasoned electrician and painter to find out how the total came to be, but first, I have to let him finish his video call with his wife, who shares a warm smile when he turns the camera towards me. This unexpected moment reminds me that migrant workers like Faruk put themselves through all the pain and heartache for the sake of their families. This man with bright eyes and a gentle smile, yet exuding a confident air, is the sole breadwinner for a family of four back home in Bangladesh — two children, his wife, and his mother.

The call with the wife having ended, we begin our rather more depressing conversation.

In 2011, for his very first job in Singapore, Faruk paid $7,000 in recruitment fees to a Bangladeshi agent, a sum that included a three-month electrician course. However, after the training, he was dismayed to learn that his salary would only be $16/day after deductions. That’s roughly equivalent to $416 a month. I am in disbelief at how this could even be economically viable for him.

To put this into perspective, he would have to work for 438 days, excluding rest days, to purely “break-even” with his agent fees. Given that he has to support himself and his family with his $16-per-day salary, it would likely take a much longer time to recoup the fees.

Absurd though the calculations may be, I suppose in countries with very high unemployment, it’s either that or no work at all; and without work, there’d be no income, no marriage prospects.

In any case, that job only lasted a year, and in a blilnk of an eye, he was back in Bangladesh. He stayed for two months, in which time, he reached out to another Bangladeshi agent and paid him $1,500 in fees to secure his second job. While this job paid marginally better, at $20/day, Faruk soon realised it was still insufficient to support his family. Nor did this job last either. Before long, he was back in Bangladesh again, hoping to find a better-paying job.

A good job for four years

On his third attempt, Sheikh was lucky enough to have a friend who was also working as a migrant worker in Singapore. This connection allowed him to secure a job without an agent, having to only pay $500 for a flight ticket to Singapore. Things went well for four years; the company paid him $30 a day, a pay rate he felt comfortable with.

But nothing lasts forever. Things took a turn when the company ran out of their Work Permit quota, and Faruk was laid off.

This time, he spent eight months back home. While it was a good opportunity to spend time with his family, his financial situation inevitably deteriorated. He needed a new job.

Out of desperation, Sheikh paid a Bangladeshi agent $3,200 to connect him with another job in Singapore, hoping to tide over his financial crisis. When he was informed that the salary would be $19 a a mere day, he was undoubtedly upset. Nevertheless, he had little choice but to accept the job. Just like his first two jobs, he wanted to leave after a year, but the pandemic struck and air travel halted. Grudgingly, he ended up working in this low-pay job for a total of three and a half years before quitting.

Post-pandemic

After a year in Bangladesh reconnecting with his family members, having been separated from them for such a long time, financial pressues did what they always do: lead workers like Faruk back to Singapore. This time, he forked out $2,800 to a Bangladeshi agent. Fortunately, it was for a job with the highest basic salary he’s ever had: $40 a day, or about $1,040 a month.

But wait, why is Faruk here at TWC2?

Sometimes, old clients drop by to say hello and to share with us that their lives are going well. However, most of the time, men like Faruk are here because there is trouble on the employment front. Alas, it is the latter reason why Faruk is sitting here with me, though he seems rather cheerful and optimistic – a sign of the resilience we often see in workers like him.

After working at this company from November 2022 to November 2024, the company itself faced financial strain. They were unable to pay salaries. Apparently, neither did the company pay the monthly foreign worker levies, and the Ministry of Manpower then took action, revoking all foreign employees’ work permits. Faruk’s was among them. So, how, he is out of a job.

He has filed a salary claim for unpaid dues, but this will take a while to sort out. We don’t even know, given the difficult cashflow situation in the company, whether he will actually recover all that’s owed to him.

Three features

There are three features in Faruk’s account of his career journey that are typical of migrant worker experiencces in Singapore.

Firstly, high recruitment fees severely erode the already low salaries earned by migrant workers, making it difficult for them to financially “break-even”. This is exacerbated by the fact that many migrant workers often have to support multiple family members back home, making it hard to save up money for the future.

Secondly, the inability of Work Pass holders to find new employment without the consent of their existing employer reinforces the economic precarity of migrant workers. Every time Faruk had to change jobs, either willingly or unwillingly, he had to return home to Bangladesh and pay another set of fees to secure employment in Singapore again. These fees accumulate across multiple stints, consuming large chunks of their earnings.

Thirdly, migrant workers face long periods of separation from their families. Just like anyone, they yearn to spend quality time with their families and watch their children grow up. However, as seen in Faruk’s case, family time cannot be enjoyed fully, for every day that passes, their own financial situation deteriorates.

Our conversation segues into another small crisis that Faruk is currently facing: a housing problem. But that’s for another story. As he details the issues surrounding his accommdation, I tune out a bit, to reflect on an uncomfortable question: Given the “system” of agents and employer prerogatives that we have in Singapore’s migrant labour market, is working here really a viable prospect? Once young men like Faruk begin to have real choice as to where to find work, who would want to work here anymore?

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