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Agenda Share

The market for day labourers, in Addis Abeba, has matched the construction industry’s growth trajectory fuelled by expanding entrepreneurial, industrial and civic needs of the nation. From the rising and falling of daily wages bartered in the morning to the uncertainty of a daily labourer’s next wage,
HALETA YIRGA, FORTUNE STAFF WRITER, takes a deeper look and uncovers the hand that providence plays and the injustices that plight these labourers who have a story to tell.

Labouring in Addis’ Concrete Jumble

 

Women labourers are discriminated against in the industry, earning an average 17 Birr a day..


Shimeles Meshesha arrived at the open field at Haya-hulet Mazoria in front of the Tourist Trade Enterprise premises at around nine o’clock one morning in mid December. As is the usual trend for the beginning of a typical day for any unemployed labourer in the construction sector, he woke up with only one thing in mind: go looking for work. As it was, his prior paycheck had barely made it through the previous day and he was down to his last Birr.

Early morning sees the city rush to feed the construction industry’s appetite for labour in all its various forms. From huge numbers of government housing projects to roads to real estate developments and homes, a simple look out of a high enough window in the city clearly shows an urban landscape in the making.

Authoritative sources also confirm the boom in construction more efficiently than the view that meet the eye. The number of buildings that were approved for construction by the end of 2005/06 was triple that in 1998/99, to give an example, according to one study.

The Addis Abeba City Roads Authority, on the other hand, has been undertaking the construction of 34 new road projects in Addis Abeba at a cost of over two billion Birr assigned for 2008/09.

That there was a yearly growth of 12pc in the sector and that it accounted for over five percent of the nation’s GDP was stated by Kassu Illala (PhD), minister of Works and Urban Development, in 2008. This department directs all construction undertakings in the country.

Pockets of unoccupied spaces around town, host vast numbers of labour work seekers who gather to await ‘labour-shoppers’ to come pick them up. The field around Haya-hulet Mazoria on Haile Gebresilassie Street, where Shimeles hunts for work is a good example. There, labourers swarm the field sharing jokes, all the while exhibiting themselves for the market that is to come.

That December morning was not Shimeles’ lucky day, though. He arrived late and all he could do was hang out with his friends until they figured out what to do with the rest of the day.

“I had a delivery [of pastry] to make early in the morning, and I could not make it,” he said.

He survives on whatever little he earns consistently from the delivery rounds and the occasional labour he lends to the construction sector. The cost of construction labour in the city stands at an average of 20 Br for an honest day’s work.

Shimeles lives with his older brother who works as a security guard at a nearby store. Originally from Wello, in the Amhara Regional State, they came to Addis looking for work. The sleeping quarters they share is a moveable sheet metal and wood structure assembled to resemble a hand-towed cart with a sheet metal wall and roof all its own. It stands next to the shop that Shimeles’ brother guards, and is moved in front of the store gate after closing hours. A room, bed and road-block all in one!

Upon the contractors’ arrival at the field at Haya-hulet Mazoria, the scene immediately turns into one resembling the traditional livestock market. A labourer’s capacity is assessed, choices are made; prices openly negotiated; and deals struck.

“Had I arrived on time, I would have been negotiating prices with the contractor,” Shimeles says, regarding his missed opportunity at the “auction.”

“We [labourers] set a price for the day, and try and stand our ground as much as the bargaining room allows us to.”

But in the end, it is either the contractor (who has ample options to choose from), or, more often, one labourer who gets to set the final price of the day.

“Maybe the guy did not work the previous day, and is desperate for what little he can get, so he agrees for as little as 20 Br,” Shimeles states. “But on a day we do manage to hold our ground, and if our pockets are not that shallow, we can get up to 30 Br.”

The hiring agreement does not end with the dealings of pay alone. No formal contracts are signed, for instance. A verbal consent is binding in this case – at least to the labourer, and what may be a day’s worth of work, or a couple of years’ worth of contract may emanate from as simple a transaction as this.

But there is a catch. Employment schemes vary from contractor to contractor, and day-long contracts pay more than weekly or bi-weekly payment schemes do. The tacit rule is that longer contracts translate into job security, and the labourers settle for lesser pay.

It is this predicament that the labour market is faced with: amidst such demand for, and abundance of, labour, how is it possible to balance pay and human need? Another question that begs to be addressed is: “If demand is so apparent, why are labour prices in construction not swelling?”

“It is the abundance of cheap labour that makes it cheap in the first place,” says Bereket Gossaye, materials and data collection supervisor at a site Enyi Construction is operating. “It is a resource that is still untapped.”

One way to address the issue is looking back at recent history, where construction labours spiked, and assessing the underlying reasons.

“It was a common, yearly phenomenon [October to December] when much of the labourers from rural parts head back home to help in the harvest,” Sre’at Ayele, a private contractor who has studied the sector for nearly a decade, states. “The scarcity always used to lead the city labourers to raise prices.”

Sre’at associates the large scale migration to Addis with the commencement of the government housing constructions. The massive scale condominium projects, coupled with the inflation that hit the economy, awaited the return of migrant labourers such as Shimeles with labour prices that had risen as high as 30 Br and 35 Br - an all time high for the sector.

It was at this stage in the life of the market that Getahun Belew came to Addis Abeba from Gashena in the Amhara Regional State. He was a young man, 19 years old, who quickly found work at a project of Enyi Construction – the road construction crossing the Airport-Megenagna portion of the ring road, near Anbessa City Bus headquarters.

Getahun earns 20 Br a day, paid to him every 15 days, and has been working on Enyi’s site as a labourer since September, 2008.

“I am grateful to have found work,” he says.

By 10 O’clock in the morning, the field at Haya-hulet Mazoria is cleared out, most labourers having been conveyed to their newfound work for the day. The only ones remaining are those stubborn enough to afford to uphold their original prices, and the very few skilled labourers such as masons, carpenters, and plasterers. Professionals cost more, and are needed few in number on site.

The transportation to work sites is not much different from livestock transportation as labourers are carried on dump trucks, pickup trucks, and at times on loader buckets to wherever the site is located.

On site, too, conditions are no walk in the park. Labour is needed for the heavy duty tasks that are reserved for earth moving machinery, especially in this day and age. Use of machinery is an option left to the whim and financial capability of the contractor.

The endless embrace of dust that only a summer wind can create, the pile of rubble the sites leave behind as the work progresses, not to mention the endless noise add as percussion to the rhythm of the buzzing city orchestra giving signs of a nearby construction site. A case in point is the project the Addis Abeba city administration sub-contracted to Enyi Construction – the site where Getahun works.

Wearing battered rags as makeshift masks to keep the dust and debris out of their lungs, Getahun et al tiptoe on the scaffoldings to deliver concrete mixes, blocks and water for the professionals that lay them in place.

The scaffoldings that are used as access stairs, and at times bridges over deep holes in the earth dug out by the labourers themselves, are made of slender eucalyptus stems. Although they have been proven sturdy for the purpose, these structures have also been found to have risk factors.

“Breakage due to aged stems, and poor carpentry are some of the injury and death risks posed by these scaffoldings,” says Getahun. “Coupled with the sorely lacking safety equipment, it is a serious problem.”

He recalls having to get health treatment on his own, when he and a couple of his colleagues had gotten sunburns. He spoke of how he had to borrow some money from his friends for the treatment while the company processed his compensation. He and his colleagues learned, the hard way, the value of the sombrero-like straw hats that labourers are known to wear.

International and local labour proclamations are strict about these health and safety related issues. The Ethiopian law proclaims that it is the obligation and duty of the employer to see to a worker’s comlete treatment and compensation for any injury and damage sustained by the labourer on site.

Employers are instructed to make an accident report immediately after an accident occurs to the Work Environment Monitoring and Training Division, under the Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs (MoLSA). Many, however, do not do so due to lack of information or the absence of a standard directive for the construction industry.

According to labour investigators at MoLSA, 4,700 cases relating to work injuries or deaths were filed in 2003/2004, the most recent survey results. The International Labour Organisation (ILO) reports that annually, workers around the world suffer approximately 270 million occupational hazards, and two million deaths from occupational accidents and work-related diseases.

However, if it is not the safety or pay conditions that confront the labourer, it is most likely to be the site supervisors.

“It is mainly their laziness and failure to understand the cost issues involved that fuels the discord,” Dawit Hailegabriel, an architect, claims. “For example, concrete mixers cost 35 Br a day in rent. So every minute spent by labourers chatting, piles up on the overall cost of construction.”

Another architect, Natnaiel Solomon, argues that labourers are selective of work-type and load.

“They are reluctant to do the labour intensive work such as mass earth digging, and hauling,” he says, “and may be active during [the not so taxing] concrete mixing. The bottom line is, unless followed up closely, they do not deliver on their end of the [20 Br wage rate] bargain.”

Getahun mentioned that he was penalised in cash for having been found sitting around and chatting while on duty. Punishments involving pay-cuts are common on the site he works for if labourers do something wrong, he says.

Lunch hour is probably something that most long for at a construction site; at least Getahun thinks so. A canteen is always in close proximity to a construction site in Addis. The typical owner/hostess of the establishment is a middle aged female. Commonly known in Amharic as “Zinbo shai bet” (literally, “Canteen O’Flies”), a typical canteen would have bamboo or reinforced straw walls with plastic linings and a shade masquerading as a roof.

It is common for the labourers and some of the skilled labour to chip in for the erection of this cafeteria at the beginning phase of a project at a site. Once erect, services commence in what has a deep sense of family among the labourers and the owner of the establishment.

The lady is often the voice of reason among the testosterone pumped labourers. She mediates disputes, calms rattled nerves, and provides the role of a mother-figure: feeding and nurturing all. The lady at one such canteen at the Enyi site was comforting one of Getahun’s angry colleagues who had just gotten in a fight with an older driver.

“He is old. What do you expect?” she said, “He is the one who disrespected himself. You should not beat yourself up over this nonsense.”

Working for meagre profits a month, she provides food and drinks to the site operatives at rock-bottom prices. Tea, for example, sells at an average 50 cents.

Lunch costs an average six Birr for Beyayenetu (an assortment of wot (stew), three or four varieties of vegetable dishes on a bed of injera, the Ethiopian flat bread). At every meal, the labourer is paying a third of his/her daily earnings for lunch alone. Cooking is not an option due to time, and financial constraints, according to Getahun.

Luckily, there exists a credit package (a tab in the form of a battered notebook that everything is signed into) at the canteen. On pay day, the labourers come to settle their accounts with the owner. She plays the role of guardian and a psychiatrist of sorts. It is there that labourers get relief from the day long tension that has their muscles pumping and their hearts racing.

Since these labourers cannot afford the luxury of a single, they mostly live in groups. Getahun, too, lives with three of his friends in a four by four metre single room near the Bole District office for which they pay a monthly rent of 200 Br.

Paychecks, however, are not always clean money.

“They (the labourers) cut deals with site timekeepers to falsify records of their productiveness and overtime calculations,” says architect Dawit Hailegabriel.

Labourers themselves were reluctant to acknowledge these allegations, but Bereket Gossaye at Enyi suggests that there is definite embezzlement going on.

Road construction, in particular, is susceptible as it takes place in an open unprotected space that is difficult to control, Bereket says.

Back from lunch (paid for in honest money, or otherwise), the afternoon session of the anthill colony buzz gets underway. The sense of oneness that the canteen glues together goes out the window once work resumes. In fact, the only place that the unity seems to function in is the canteen. Apparently, there is no trade union, nor is there any agency that manages the labourers.

It seems like unionisation is a concept alien to a person that lives on a daily basis; at least in the cases of Getahun and Shimeles. Bereket lays out three reasons as to why unionisation has not come into effect in the construction labour sector.

“There is no continuity in construction projects, and hence a group formed on one site disbands once the project is completed,” he said.

The other thing he associates with the situation is the preference of contractors to deal directly with the labourers regarding wages.

“They feel it is going to be expensive, having to deal with associations and agencies.”

Finally, living for the day, and on a subsistence level, too, has an effect all its own in dealing with these issues, according to Bereket who feels that labourers do not even have the time, or energy to concern themselves with these things.

One aspect of the labour practices that actually may be addressed through the formation of labour unions is the case of female labourers, according to Bereket. “They are the worst hit in the pay department,” he says. “They earn less for the same kind, and amount of labour work: around 17 Br a day.”

The Ethiopian Labour Proclamation upholds the liberty of the formation of unions as the core of its functioning. It also prohibits such practices as discrimination among labour on any basis.

“This is a matter dependent on the attitude of the employer,” says Eskedar Tefera, special assistant to the minister at MoLSA. “That is why we resort to educating employers and labourers rather than strictly enforcing the rules.”

Employers have to realise that the offence is punishable by law, she asserts, but says that she can relate to the female labourers.

One way out, according to Bereket, is the formation of an agency that brokers deals on behalf of the labourers.

“It has proven lucrative in the domestic service industry, and I do not see why it will not work for construction labour,” he argues.

Meanwhile, Getahun had found himself out of work when the site closed for the rainy season last June. He faced a long break, without pay as did all road and foundation workers. He spent the winter waiting tables at a local bar until the site work resumed in October.

“The job paid less than my labour work,” he says, “and there were five of us living together to be able to afford housing.”

But at least a single meal was covered in the arrangement, so he is thankful for that. For Getahun, that was a taste of what life might be like when the road project ends.

“Once construction ends, we are going to be disbanded, and we may not be called back for another contract,” he expresses his worry. “However, the company writes us letters of recommendations stating that we had worked for them.”

What really worried him the most was the fact that he did not acquire any skills during his stay with the job.

“All I do is dig and shovel,” he says, “and the road sector has little to offer in that department,” adding that working on buildings is far better as he could spend more time with the professionals and learn a few crafts such as masonry, plastering and wall painting, or even carpentry.

“It could have been a good way to improve my standard of living,” he lamented.

“We cannot afford to keep them employed. Projects end, and so do relationships,” Bereket disclosed. “It is only the big contractors that manage to sustain the labourer as they always have projects in the pipeline. It may be a while before our next project, so we have to let them go.”

The ILO states in its minimum wages fixing convention that “… In the absence of a social welfare system … [it becomes] difficult to introduce minimum wage regulations. The balance between a healthy employment rate [hence, a productive economy] and the need for the maintenance of social protection must be upheld for economic growth to blossom.”

According to the same convention, minimum wage regulations are strictly designed for the protection of such wage earners like Getahun and Shimeles.

However, there has been no debate, nor activity hitherto on policy matters regarding minimum wage regulations in Ethiopia.

“The Labour Proclamation clearly states that the way to go, in the nation, is bargaining,” says Solomon Demissie, director of the Directorate of Harmonious Industrial Relations at MoLSA. “The underlying belief is that the process of bargaining shall bring about a desired, balanced outcome for both the employer and employee regarding wages.”

It might be some time before Getahun and Shimeles see any form of pay increase. Although they are an integral part of the sector, they still remain alienated - both in the construction process and in the consumption of the fancy buildings they helped build. One little mistake and they might end up on that field at Haya-hulet Mazoria the following day looking for work. The employer too does not bother as there are lots more where he got them from in the first place.

Yet in the city that is always under construction, the detours in commute for road construction, the dust from the dry, uprooted earth, and the constant noise these sites produce are not even reminders of the labour involved. Rather the inconveniences these detours cause, and outcomes - in the form of a concrete jungle, or an asphalt artery - shall remain the things associated with the construction boom Addis Abeba seems to dwell in.

By HALETA YIRGA
FORTUNE STAFF WRITER

 
 
 
   
 
 
 

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