Two Ukrainian Nurses Hired by Saudi Hospital – Locked in Villa Basement as Personal Slaves
28 months without going outside, without sunlight, without a single phone call to their families. Two Ukrainian nurses spent more than 2 years locked in the basement of a Saudi villa, working 16 hours a day for members of the royal family who considered them their property. Lisa and Oxana met in 2021 in KIV.
Both worked at city hospital number 18. Both were nurses in the intensive care unit. Lisa was 3 years older, turning 32. Oxana was 28. They were not close friends, just colleagues who sometimes crossed paths on duty and greeted each other in the corridors. It was a normal working relationship in a large hospital where the staff is constantly changing and few people have time to get close.
Lisa was married and had a 7-year-old daughter. Oxana lived alone. Her parents had long since moved to Kiev. Both earned little like all Ukrainian doctors. Their salaries barely covered the cost of housing and food. There was no question of savings or vacations abroad. When the war began in February 2022, their lives changed in a single day.
Kark found itself at the epicenter of the fighting. The shelling began almost immediately. The hospital was put on military footing. The staff worked around the clock. and more and more wounded people were arriving. There were frequent power outages. There was also a shortage of water. Liza took her daughter to her husband’s parents in western Ukraine and stayed behind to work.
Oxana also did not leave during the first few weeks. They saw things they would rather not remember. Shrapnel wounds, burns, severed limbs, children in intensive care. In March, the situation became dire. Karkov was shelled every day. Many medics began to leave. Liza’s husband called and demanded that she quit her job and leave.
He yelled into the phone that he couldn’t sleep anymore. Knowing that his wife was in a city that was being systematically destroyed, Oxana also decided to leave after a rocket hit a neighboring house. She woke up from the explosion at 3:00 in the morning. The windows were blown out and the walls were covered with cracks.
Both women began to look for options. Leaving Ukraine was an obvious decision, but not an easy one. No one had the money for decent housing in Europe. It is also difficult to find a job without knowing the language. Lisa considered Poland, where her husband had distant relatives. Oxana searched for any options on the internet.
She browsed forums and social media groups where people shared information about helping refugees. That’s where she came across an ad. It was posted in one of the Ukrainian support groups for medical workers who had left the combat zone. The text was short. Nurses were needed to work in a private clinic in Saudi Arabia. Experience in intensive care was required. The salary was $4,000 a month.
The employer would pay for the visa, tickets, and accommodation. The contract was for 2 years. Oxana stared at the ad for a long time, $4,000. It was a huge amount compared to what she was earning in Kark. In a year, she could save up a decent amount of money, rent an apartment in Europe, help her parents, and start a new life.
She wrote to the number listed in the Messenger app. She received a reply almost immediately. They introduced themselves as a recruitment agency that works with medical institutions in the Middle East. They asked for her resume, copies of her diplomas, and photos. Oxana sent everything the same day. A week later, they called her back.
A woman with a slight accent informed her that a clinic in Riad was interested in her candidacy. She needed to fill out a questionnaire, sign a preliminary contract, and send a copy of her passport to apply for a visa. Oxana asked about the conditions. She was told that the job was at a private clinic, 5 days a week, 12-hour shifts, accommodation provided in staff quarters, meals included, medical insurance, too, departure in a month.
Oxana asked for time to think it over. She was given 3 days. She called Lisa. She told her about the offer. Lisa was skeptical at first. [music] Saudi Arabia is an Islamic country and women don’t have it very good there. But Oxana said that it was a private clinic with a lot of foreign staff and normal conditions, $4,000 a month. Lisa thought about it.
She had been living apart from her family for several weeks. Her daughter asked when her mother would come home. Her husband wanted Lisa to join them, but they didn’t have enough money for rent. He worked on a construction site and didn’t earn much. If Lisa earned money in Saudi Arabia, they would be able to rent an apartment somewhere safe and take their daughter out of someone else’s home.
She asked Oxana if she could send two applications. Oxana promised to check. The next [music] day, the agency confirmed that the clinic was ready to consider another nurse. Lisa sent the documents. A week later, she also got a call. They said the same thing. contract, visa, departure at the end of March. Both women signed the documents without really looking into the details.
The contract was in English, long with many clauses. Lisa tried to read it, but the legal language was difficult. She asked the agency if she could get a translation. They replied that it was a standard contract that all foreign medical workers sign. There was nothing special in it. duties, schedule, salary, terms of termination.
Everything was fair. Lisa believed them. She wanted to believe them. Oxana didn’t bother to look into it either. She just signed it and sent a scan. At the end of March, they flew to Riad. The flight was from Warsaw, where they traveled by bus across the border. It was a long, exhausting journey. Oxana didn’t sleep the night before the flight. She was nervous.
Lisa was also tense but tried not to show it. They sat next to each other on the plane and hardly spoke. Each was thinking about her own thoughts. Both understood that there was nowhere to return to. Kark was thousands of kilome away and the war was still going on there. The future was uncertain, but it seemed better than what they had left behind.
The plane landed at Riyad International Airport early in the morning. It was hot even inside the terminal building. They went through passport control, collected their luggage, and exited into the arrivals area. A representative from the clinic was supposed to meet them there.
The agency had sent a photo of a sign with their names on it. Lisa and Oxana stood at the exit looking around. A few minutes later, a man approached them. He was dressed in traditional white Saudi clothing and wore a headscarf. He held a sign with their names written in Latin letters. He greeted them in broken English. He introduced himself as the driver.
He said he would take them to their place of work. Lisa asked where the clinic was located. He replied that it was outside the city about a 40-minute drive away. They got into the car, a large black SUV with tinted windows. They loaded their luggage into the trunk. The driver took them along a wide highway.
Skyscrapers, desert landscapes, and interchanges flashed by outside the window. Lisa tried to memorize the road, but everything looked the same. Oxana dozed off, leaning back in her seat. An hour later, the car turned off the main road. They were driving on a narrow highway, surrounded by nothing but sand and a few scattered buildings.
Lisa became alarmed. She asked the driver how far they had to go. He replied that they would arrive soon. 20 minutes later, the car stopped in front of a tall gate. Behind it was a large villa surrounded by a wall. The gate opened automatically. The car drove into the grounds. The driver got out and opened the door for them.
He told them to take their things and follow him. Lisa and Oxana looked at each other. It didn’t look like a clinic. It was a private house. Lisa asked what was going on. The driver replied that it was the residents of the family they would be working for. The clinic was private and belonged to the prince’s family.
They would be caring for the prince’s sick mother who lived there. Lisa began to protest. She had been told about the clinic, about other nurses, about the dormatory. The driver shrugged. He said he was just a driver and didn’t know anything. They had better go inside and talk to the manager. Oxana tried to get her phone to call the agency. The driver stopped her.
He said that everything would be explained to them inside. He asked them to hand over their phones. It was a house rule that no staff were allowed to have phones. It was for the family’s safety. Lisa refused. Then the driver called two other men who came out of the house. They were large and silent. They stood nearby. The driver repeated his request.
Hand over your phones. Oxana was scared. Lisa also felt threatened. They handed over their phones. They were led inside the villa, a large hall with marble floors, expensive furniture, air conditioning. But they were not taken to the main part of the house, but to a side door leading downstairs, a staircase to the basement.
Oxana tried to stop. She asked where they were being taken. One of the men pushed her forward, not roughly, but insistently. They went downstairs. There was a long corridor with several doors. One of them was opened. A small room, two beds, one small table, a chair. There were no windows.
PART2
The ventilation was working, but the air was stuffy. The driver said that this was their room. They would start work tomorrow morning. For now, they could rest. Dinner would be brought later. Lisa tried to ask questions. Where were their passports? When could they call the agency? The driver said that their passports would be taken to process their work documents.
They would be returned later. He didn’t say anything about phone calls. He just left and closed the door. They heard the key turn in the lock outside. Lisa rushed to the door. She tried to open it. It was locked. She started knocking, shouting. No one answered. Oxana sat on the bed, unable to believe what was happening.
They tried to understand what had happened. It must be some kind of mistake. Maybe a temporary measure. Maybe that’s how things are done in Saudi Arabia. They’ll figure it out tomorrow. They would talk to someone from management. Everything would be cleared up. They tried to calm themselves, but their fear grew with every passing minute.
Dinner was indeed brought. A few hours later, the door opened and a woman in a black headscarf entered. She placed a tray of food on the table. Rice, chicken, vegetables, water. She said nothing. Lisa tried to speak to her in English to ask what was going on. The woman shook her head, indicating that she did not understand.
She left and locked the door again. Lisa and Oxana did not touch the food. They sat on their beds until late at night, not knowing what to do, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. In the morning, they were woken up at 6:00. The same driver opened the door. He told them to get up and go to work. He led them upstairs. In one of the rooms on the second floor lay an elderly woman.
She was about 85 years old. She was paralyzed, unable to move, and could hardly speak. The driver explained in broken English that she was the mother of the owner of the house, the prince. She had been ill for several years. She needed constant care, feeding, changing her clothes, hygiene, massage, turning her over every 2 hours.
Lisa and Oxana had to take turns on duty. In addition, they would help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, cooking. A large family lives in the house. 12 people. The prince, his wives, children, relatives. They all require service. Lisa tried to object. They were nurses, not housekeepers. The driver looked at her coldly. He said that here they would do what they were told.
If they didn’t like it, they could try to leave. But they had no passports, no money either. The family sponsored their visas. Without their permission, they would not be able to leave the country. Welcome to your new life. The following days were a nightmare. Lisa and Oxana worked from early morning until late at night. Caring for a paralyzed woman required constant attention.
She couldn’t eat on her own, so she was fed through a tube. They had to monitor her skin condition, treat bed sores, change diapers, and turn her over every 2 hours to prevent new sores from forming. It was hard physical work. In addition, they had to clean the rooms, do the laundry, and cook meals for the family. No one asked if they were tired.
No one thanked them. If something was done wrong, they were scolded. Sometimes they were yelled at. Once one of the prince’s wives slapped Oxana in the face for not bringing water quickly enough. Oxana cried from humiliation and pain. Lisa tried to stand up for her. The guards grabbed her by the arm and took her out of the room.
They warned her that if she resisted, she would be punished more severely. They lived in the basement. They were not allowed to go outside. During the day, they worked upstairs, and in the evening, they went downstairs. The door was always locked. A guard stood watch in the hallway. There were no windows in the room, so they didn’t see the sun for weeks.
They lost track of the days. They didn’t know what day it was. They didn’t have a clock. They determined the time by when they were woken up and when they were allowed to sleep. Food was brought irregularly. Sometimes twice a day, sometimes once. The portions were small. They lost weight. They were not given new clothes.
They had to wash what they had and dry it in the room. For the first month, Lisa still hoped that this was temporary, that the agency would miss them and start looking for them, that someone would realize they were gone and raise the alarm. But no one came. No one called. The agency had apparently received the money and forgotten about them.
Their families couldn’t find them either. Lisa hadn’t called her husband since they arrived. He was probably worried trying to call her, sending her messages, but her phone was turned off. Oxana wasn’t answering either. Her parents in Kiev probably thought she was just busy and couldn’t call or that the connection was bad or that she had decided not to bother them.
They couldn’t imagine the truth. After a few months, Lisa and Oxana gave up hope of a quick rescue. They realized they were trapped with no easy way out. The days merged into one endless routine. They got up at 6:00 in the morning, cared for the paralyzed woman, cleaned the rooms, did the laundry, cooked, cared for her again, and cleaned again. There were almost no breaks.
If they sat down to rest, someone from the family would always find them a new job. Wash the floors again, iron the laundry, clean the bathrooms, prepare an extra dish for guests. The prince’s family often had guests. Then there was even more work. They had to set the tables, serve food, and clean up after dinners that lasted until midnight.
After that, they were sent to the basement. They collapsed on their beds, exhausted. They slept for four or 5 hours. In the morning, it all started over again. Oxana tried to keep track of the days. She scratched lines on the wall behind her bed. Each line represented one day, but after a few weeks, she lost count. She missed a few days, or conversely counted one day twice.
She stopped scratching. What difference did it make how many days had passed if there was no way out? Lisa spoke less. She withdrew into herself. She thought about her daughter. She imagined how the girl was waiting for her, asking her father when her mother would return. What would he say to her? That her mother was missing? That she wasn’t in touch? Or did he already think she was dead? These thoughts tore her apart inside, but she couldn’t cry.
She didn’t even have the strength to cry. The family treated them worse than animals. They weren’t called by name. They were addressed as hey or you. They were pointed at and given orders in a harsh tone. No, please, no thank you. If they did something wrong, they were punished. One of the prince’s wives hit Lisa on the back several times for spilling water on the floor.
Another wife pushed Oxana when she didn’t bring a towel in time. The guards also allowed themselves to be rude. One of them grabbed Oxana’s arm several times as she walked by, saying something in Arabic and laughing. She didn’t understand the words, but the tone was humiliating. She tried to stay away from him, but it was difficult to avoid encounters in the house.
He was on duty in the hallway and met them when they went down to the basement. Once he tried to enter their room at night, Lisa heard the door open. She jumped up and screamed. The guard stopped, looked at them, smiled, and left. After that, they began to push the bed against the door at night. It couldn’t stop a grown man, but at least it gave them the illusion of protection.
The food was sparse and monotonous. Rice, flatbread, sometimes chicken or vegetables, leftovers from the family table. Whatever the owners didn’t eat, they gave to them. The portions were small. They were constantly hungry. Oxana lost 10 kg in the first 3 months. So did Lisa. Their clothes hung on them like sacks.
They were not given new clothes. They washed what they had on every night and dried them as best they could. Their underwear wore out quickly. After 6 months, their clothes turned into rags. [music] They asked the house manager for at least some spare clothes. She brought them old dresses that the servants had worn.
They were dirty, washed out, and stained. But they had no choice. They were not provided with medical care either. When Oxana came down with a cold, she was not excused from work. She worked with a fever, coughing, barely able to stand on her feet. Lisa asked for at least a day off for her. The manager refused. She said that the old woman needed care, and no one but them would do it.
Oxana worked while she was sick. After a week, the cold went away on its own. Lisa started having problems with her teeth. One of her mers hurt so much that she couldn’t eat. She asked for permission to go to the dentist. She was refused. They gave her painkillers. She took the pills for a week and the pain subsided a little.
Then it came back with a vengeance. The tooth was decaying, but no one was going to take her to the doctor. She endured. After a month, the nerve died and the pain went away. The tooth turned black and began to crumble. They were never allowed outside the house. The villa was surrounded by a high wall topped with barbed wire.
The gates were guarded around the clock. Even if they had tried to escape, they would have been caught in the first few minutes. Besides, they had no documents, no money, no phones. They didn’t know where they were, didn’t speak Arabic, had no idea where to run. Saudi Arabia was a foreign country to them where women have almost no rights.
They had heard stories about how the police return runaway servants to their employers, about how migrants without documents are put in prison, about how they are deported, but only after their employer gives permission. and employers never give permission because that means losing free labor. Lisa tried several times to talk to the guards to ask if she could call home just once just to tell her family that she was alive. They refused.
They said it was forbidden. House rules. She tried to explain that she had a little daughter, that her husband didn’t know where she was, that they were worried. The guards shrugged. They didn’t care. She offered money. Although she didn’t have any money, she promised to pay later. They laughed. What money? She wasn’t being paid a salary.
Where would she get the money? That was the most painful part. They weren’t being paid a penny. The contract specified $4,000 a month. But they didn’t get a dollar. When Lisa mustered up the courage to ask the manager about her salary a few months later, she looked at her like she was crazy. What salary? You live in a house. You are fed.
You are given a roof over your head. That is your payment. Contract? What contract? You signed a contract to work for the family. That’s how it works here. If you don’t like it, you can leave. But first, pay back the money for the visa, the ticket, and the accommodation. That will be about $15,000. Do you have that kind of money? No.
Then work and keep quiet. Oxana realized that they had been deceived from the very beginning. There was no clinic. The agency had sold them into slavery. That’s what it was called, modern slavery. They worked without pay, without days off, without rights. They were held by force, threatened, beaten. They couldn’t leave, couldn’t call for help, couldn’t even complain.
They were the property of this family, and the family did with them as they pleased. By the end of the first year, Oxana became seriously ill. She began to experience severe abdominal pain. At first, she thought it was due to poor food or stress, but the pain intensified. She couldn’t sleep properly and woke up at night in agony.
Lisa became concerned. She realized that it could be something serious. Appendicitis, an ulcer, anything. She asked the manager again to call a doctor or take Oxana to the hospital. The manager dismissed her concerns. She said it was just her stomach and it would go away on its own. She gave her some painkillers.
Oxana took them, but they didn’t help. After a week, the pain became unbearable. She couldn’t get out of bed. She lay curled up in a ball, moaning. Lisa was afraid that Oxana was dying. She ran upstairs, started screaming, demanding help. The guards pushed her back into the basement. But a few hours later, the manager came.
She looked at Oxana. She was pale, covered in cold sweat, almost unconscious. The manager realized that the situation was serious. If the girl died in the house, there would be problems. She called the driver. She told him to take her to the hospital. Oxana was placed in the back seat of the car. Lisa was not taken.
They said she had to stay and work. Oxana was taken to a private hospital in Riad. There she was examined immediately. The diagnosis was quick. Acute appendicitis beginning peritonitis. She needed urgent surgery. She was taken to the operating room. The driver waited in the hallway. The operation lasted 2 hours. Everything went well.
Her appendix was removed and the inflammation was stopped. Oxana was transferred to a ward. She woke up from the anesthesia in the evening. There was an IV stand next to her bed. There was another patient behind a curtain in the ward. A nurse came in to check her vitals. She was a Filipino woman in her 40s. She spoke English.
She asked Oxana how she was feeling. Oxana replied that she was in pain, but it was bearable. The nurse adjusted the IV and wrote something in her chart. Oxana looked at her. There was a plea in her eyes. She whispered quietly in English so that the driver wouldn’t hear her from the hallway. Help me. I’m being held captive.
They’re keeping me in the prince’s house. They don’t pay me. They don’t let me leave. Please help me. The nurse froze. She looked at Oxana closely. She saw the bruises on her arms. She saw her emaciated body. She saw the fear in her eyes. She nodded. She said quietly that she understood. She asked Oxana not to say anything else for now.
She promised to help. She left the room. Oxana didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but it was her only chance in 2 years. The nurse named Maria had worked at this hospital for 7 years. She herself was a migrant from the Philippines. She knew that in Saudi Arabia, thousands of women like Okana worked in the homes of wealthy families, effectively as slaves.
She had heard the stories. She had seen patients who had been brought in beaten, emaciated, and sick. But they were afraid to speak up. They were afraid of their employers, afraid of deportation, afraid of revenge. Maria understood that if she didn’t help this girl now, she would be sent back to that house and would never get out.
Maria knew of an organization that helped migrants in trouble. It was an international human rights group with a representative office in Riad. They worked with victims of labor exploitation, tried to rescue people from slave-like conditions, and provided legal assistance. Maria wrote down the organization’s phone number on a piece of paper.
She returned to the ward half an hour later. The driver was dozing in a chair in the hallway. She quickly slipped the piece of paper under Oxana’s pillow. She whispered that it was the number of an organization that would help. As soon as the opportunity arose, she needed to call. Oxana nodded. She hid the piece of paper in her underwear.
She was discharged 3 days later. The driver picked her up from the hospital. He brought her back to the villa. Oxana clutched the piece of paper with the number in her hand the whole way. She was afraid they would take it away at the entrance, but no one searched her. They took her to the basement. Lisa rushed to hug her. She cried with joy that her friend was alive.
Oxana whispered to her about the nurse and the piece of paper with the number. At first, Lisa didn’t believe her. Then she clung to this hope like a lifeline. But how could she call? They didn’t have a phone. They weren’t allowed to leave the house. Oxana said she would wait for the right moment. Sooner or later, one of the guards would leave the phone unattended or one of the prince’s children.
There were many people in the house, many phones. They just had to wait. They had to wait a long time. For several months, they looked for an opportunity, but the phones were always under supervision. The guards carried them in their pockets. So did the family members. The children played with tablets, but they were taken away as soon as the child left.
It seemed that there would be no chance. But one evening when Oxana was cleaning one of the living rooms, she noticed a phone on the sofa, one of the prince’s sons had left it there, a teenager of about 16. He left the room, but the phone remained. Oxana looked around. There was no one nearby. The guard was standing in the hallway with his back to the living room.
Her heart was beating so hard that she thought he could hear it. She quickly picked up the phone. She took the piece of paper with the number out of her pocket. Her hands were shaking. She dialed the number. Rings 1 2 3. A man’s voice answered in English. Oxana spoke quickly, quietly, [music] choking with fear. She gave her name. She said she was Ukrainian and had been held captive in the home of a Saudi family for more than 2 years.
No documents, no pay, no release, beatings. There were two of them. The second was also Ukrainian. She didn’t have time to finish. A teenager entered the room looking for the phone. He saw it in her hands. He screamed. He snatched the phone. A security guard came running. He grabbed Oxana by the arm and dragged her out of the room.
He took her down to the basement. He punched her in the face. She fell. He kicked her in the stomach. Lisa screamed. The security guard turned around and left, locking the door. Oxana lay on the floor, crying from pain and fear. Lisa helped her up. They both thought it was the end. Now they would be punished even more severely.
Maybe they would be killed. But an hour passed and nothing happened. Then a day they were left alone. Apparently, the family decided that the beating was punishment enough. Or maybe they just didn’t think the call was important. They didn’t know if the call had gone through, if Oxana had managed to say enough to be understood.
But the call had gone through. The man on the other end was an employee of a human rights organization. He wrote down everything Oxana had managed to say. Her name, nationality, mention of a Saudi family, a house, two Ukrainian women, two years. It wasn’t enough to pinpoint her location, but it was enough to start the search.
The organization had connections in the police, immigration services, and diplomatic circles. They began checking records of Ukrainian citizens entering the country over the past 3 years. They found records for Lisa and Oxana. The visa had been issued through an agency, and the sponsor was a private individual, a member of the royal family.
The villa’s address was listed in the documents. The organization contacted the Ukrainian consulate. The consulate raised the issue with the Saudi foreign ministry. The foreign ministry began an investigation. It took months. The Saudi authorities were in no hurry. The case involved a member of the royal family.
They preferred not to make a big deal out of such cases, but international pressure was growing. A human rights organization filed an official complaint with the UN Human Rights Committee. The Ukrainian government also got involved, albeit half-heartedly. After all, there was a war going on and the government had other priorities.
But the case was publicized in the international media. Several journalists wrote articles about the missing Ukrainian nurses, about how they were being held in slavery in Saudi Arabia. The Saudi government did not like such publicity. They began to put pressure on the prince’s family. They demanded that the situation be resolved quietly. Another four months passed.
Lisa and Oxana knew nothing about what was happening outside the villa walls. They continued to work, losing their last reserves of strength. Oxana never fully recovered from the operation. The stitches hurt. She felt weak, but she had to work as usual. Lisa was also on the verge of breaking down.
She had almost stopped talking and was just mechanically following orders. Both had lost all hope. One morning in August 2024, cars arrived at the villa. Several black SUVs, people in plain clothes got out of them. Saudi police officers and representatives of the immigration service. With them was a man from the Ukrainian consulate. They presented a warrant to inspect the conditions of foreign workers.
The prince’s family could not refuse. They were led into the house. They demanded to see all the workers. The servants were brought in. Several Filipinos, an Indian, and a Pakistani. Everyone was intimidated and silent. They asked about the Ukrainians. The housekeeper said that they were caring for a sick woman and were busy at the moment.
The police representative demanded that they be brought immediately. The security guard went down to the basement and opened the door. He told Liza and Oxana to come upstairs. They came up dirty, thin, in old washed out dresses. The consulate employee saw them and turned pale. He asked in Ukrainian if they were Liza and Oxana.
They nodded, not believing that this was really happening. He said they were free, that they were being taken away from here right now. The prince’s family tried to object. They said that the women were working under contract, that they had debts, that they couldn’t just leave. The police representative stopped them. He said that the case was now being handled by the prosecutor’s office.
There would be an investigation. If it turned out that working conditions or workers rights had been violated, the family would face serious consequences. The prince realized that the case could become a public scandal. He didn’t want publicity. He called his lawyer. An hour later, the lawyer arrived. He suggested settling the matter amicably, paying the women compensation for all the months they had worked, $100,000 each, in exchange for their silence and waiver of claims.
They would sign a non-disclosure agreement. Lisa and Oxana were given the papers to read. They did not understand the legal language. A consulate employee explained it to them. It meant that they would receive money, but they would not be able to speak publicly about what had happened. They would not be able to go to court. They would not be able to give interviews using their real names.
Lisa and Oxana looked at each other. They wanted justice. They wanted this family to be held accountable for what they had done to them. But they also understood the reality. Saudi Arabia is a country where the royal family wields enormous power. Even if they refused the money and sought a trial, their chances of winning were slim.
The process would drag on for years. They could be deported without compensation. They could find a way to accuse them of violating their visa or contract, and 100 sdors was an opportunity to start a new life, to help their families. Lisa thought of her daughter. With this money, she could rent a place to live, provide for her child, and give her a normal future.
Oxana thought about her parents in Kiev, who surely thought she was dead. She would be able to help them. They signed. The money was transferred to their accounts that same day. Their passports were returned to them. They bought tickets to Warsaw for the next flight. Two days later, they flew out of Riad.
Saying goodbye to Saudi Arabia, they looked out the window at the desert below and felt nothing but relief. They had survived. They had escaped. They were free. In Warsaw, they were met by volunteers from the Ukrainian diaspora. They helped them find temporary housing. Lisa immediately contacted her husband. He couldn’t believe he was hearing her voice. He cried into the phone.
He said he had been looking for her for 2 years, contacting the police and consulates, but no one knew anything. He thought she was dead. Lisa didn’t go into details over the phone. She just said that it was all over and that they would see each other soon. A week later, they were reunited. Lisa hugged her daughter and couldn’t let go for several hours.
The girl had grown up and changed, but she recognized her mother. She asked where she had been for so long. Lisa replied that she had been working far away and couldn’t come, but now everything was fine. She didn’t want to traumatize her child with the truth. Oxana also contacted her parents. Her mother fainted when she heard her voice.
Her father demanded an explanation of where she had been and why she hadn’t been in touch. Oxana only said that there had been problems, that she hadn’t been able to call, and that everything had been settled. Her parents flew to Warsaw. The meeting was difficult. They saw how she had changed.
She had lost weight, aged, and her eyes were empty. But they didn’t ask any unnecessary questions. They just stayed close. During their first months in Poland, both women tried to return to normal life. They rented apartments and started looking for work. Lisa got a job as a nurse in a private clinic. The work was easy compared to what she had been through.
An 8-hour day, weekends off, a decent salary, and humane treatment. But she couldn’t relax. Every time someone spoke to her in a harsh tone, she flinched. When her boss asked her to stay after her shift, she began to panic. She went to a psychologist. He diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder. He prescribed therapy and pills.
He said it would take years to recover. Oxana was unable to return to medicine. She tried to get a job at a hospital but couldn’t last a week. The sight of hospital corridors and the smell of medicine brought her back to the place where she had spent 2 and 1/2 years. She quit her job and found work in a store. It was simple with no responsibility.
She also went to a psychologist and took medication, but it didn’t get any easier. She hardly slept, waking up from nightmares. She saw the faces of the guards, heard the screams, felt the blows. During the day, she tried to distract herself with work, but the thoughts kept coming back. She understood that that life had broken her, that she would never be the same again.
A year after their release, a journalist from a European publication contacted them. She had learned about their story through a human rights organization. She offered to interview them. It would be anonymous without mentioning the prince’s name or the exact address of the villa so as not to violate the non-disclosure agreement.
But she wanted to tell the truth about what happens to migrants in Saudi Arabia. Lisa and Oxana did not agree immediately. They were afraid. They were afraid that the prince’s family would find out, track them down, and take revenge. But the journalist convinced them that the publication would be anonymous, that it would be impossible to identify them, and that their story could help other women avoid falling into the same trap.
The interview was published in February 2025. It was simply titled, “We fled war and ended up in slavery.” Lisa and Oxana told everything about the AY’s deception, about how they were met not by representatives of the clinic, but by the prince’s driver, about the basement where they lived for 2 and 1/2 years, about the 16-hour workday without days off or pay.
About beatings, hunger, humiliation. about how they were kept locked up, deprived of their documents and phones, about how the Saudi family considered them to be objects that could be disposed of as they pleased. About how their release was only due to a coincidence, Oxana’s illness, which landed her in the hospital, and the phone call she managed to make.
About how without that, they would still be there. The Saudi government officially responded to the publication. They stated that they were investigating all cases of labor rights violations, that the guilty parties would be punished, that the Kafala system would be reformed, but no real changes followed. The prince’s family did not suffer any punishment.
There was no official investigation. The money they paid Lisa and Oxana closed the case legally. A non-disclosure agreement protected them from public scandal. No names were mentioned. The villa was not identified and it was impossible to prove anything. Lisa and Oxana continue to live in Poland. More than a year has passed since the publication.
They are trying to move on. Lisa is raising her daughter, working, saving money for the future. Oxana is still in therapy, struggling with depression and nightmares. They rarely communicate with each other. Too much pain is associated with those 2 and 1/2 years. Every meeting brings back memories that they are trying to forget.
They do not regret telling their story. They hope that at least one woman after reading it will not believe an agency promising mountains of gold in a rich Arab country. They hope that someone will think twice before signing a contract without reading it. They hope that their pain was not in vain. But they also know that nothing has changed.
Right now, thousands of women are living in the same basement, working in the same houses, suffering the same abuse. And no one will come to rescue them because the system protects the rich and powerful. And poor migrants fleeing war or poverty remain powerless. Their stories remain unheard. Their suffering remains invisible until one of them is lucky enough to escape and tell the truth.
