My name is Mina Kumari and I’m originally from Ramechhap, although it’s been a long time since I left my home and settled in Banepa. That’s where I live today, with my husband and two kids—a son and a daughter—who I support through my job at a construction site. My work usually involves carrying building materials from one place to another; sometimes I mix concrete too—it really depends on what the builders need you to do on a given day. It’s hard labor for not very much money, just Rs. 400 a day, and I’m often tired to the bone when I come home, but when I fall sleep, it’s with the satisfaction of knowing that my family is provided for.

Things weren’t always this way. When we first arrived in Banepa, I had high hopes of finding a good job, building a good life and educating my kids so that they could make their own paths in the world. But it wasn’t so easy; my husband was an alcoholic, to begin with. He would waste all the money I earned on drinking, and didn’t take any responsibility for our kids or their futures. There was a time when our children were constantly falling sick, we had perilously little to eat, and couldn’t afford to pay the houseowner our rent.

As desperate as I was feeling back then, I knew deep down that I couldn’t give up, at least for the sake of my kids. So I persevered, continued to save money where I could, and little by little, I had enough to send my children to school, which was all I had ever wanted.

Today, my son is all grown up, practically a man. He goes to university and is even earning, money that he uses to pay for his own studies as well as those of his sister. And what’s more, my husband is a changed person now—not only has he given up his old ways, he actually works with me at the construction site and contributes to the family’s income. Of course, although we do similar tasks, he gets paid more money than I do because he’s a man, almost double, in fact.

While I feel a man and woman should get paid the same amount for the same work, I’ve learned that it’s also about who you know. Those laborers who are closer to the contractors earn much more than the rest of us, but then again, who could we complain to about this?

It’s a stressful job overall, and very unforgiving on your body. I often fall down and get all kinds of bruises, but I have to keep going. Although I’ve heard about insurance, I’m not insured myself. So if anything happens to us on site, nobody can help us. My friends are already struggling to make a living themselves. And as the contractor sees it, we are entirely replaceable.

The nature of the work is also changing compared to not too long ago. Back in the day, we had to mix and serve the concrete by hand, but today there are machines for that. And while they’ve eased the task, the more such jobs are done by machines, the more we are at risk of being made redundant and losing out on income.

Very often I am struck by fears like “What will I do if I can’t earn anymore?”, “How will my family survive?” and “What if one of us falls sick and can no longer work?”. But I don’t know if I really want to know the answers to these questions.

The day I can’t get any more work, I will most likely have to leave the city because it’s just too expensive to go on living here. We have rented two rooms for which we pay Rs. 5,000 a month. We do have electricity but drinking water is a real problem—we have to purchase it in jars which costs us Rs. 35 a day. It’s also very close quarters for a four-person family, but we have few other options.

It is not that I am ashamed of what I do. Of course, there are people who call us names, who think the work we do is beneath them. But we’re helping people build their dream homes; we’re the invisible force without whom this city could not rise and spread out the way it has been doing, and I take pride in that.  

I do think, however, that people like us—who don’t have the voice or the means to advocate for their own rights—need the support of governmental or non-governmental entities to help us address the wage disparities and lack of safety mechanisms that have rendered us so vulnerable to exploitation and physical danger. There are a few organizations that do claim to be working on our behalf, but their activities are limited—mostly to International Labor Day celebrations—and we haven’t seen any real impact on our daily lives.

I hope I do not sound ungrateful. Whatever the difficulties of life as a laborer, at least the work has helped me through some hard times, helped me raise my kids, and secure something of a future for them. I derive strength from the knowledge that they are on their way to independence. This was what I’d hoped and prayed for, and to see it happening in reality makes me unbelievably proud.

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