The Cape Verde Illusion: Migrant Exploitation & Broken Promises
PRAIA, Cape Verde — For many West African migrants, Cape Verde is sold as a land of opportunity or a convenient stepping stone to Europe. However, for those arriving in the archipelago, the reality is often a grim cycle of exploitation, fraudulent recruitment, and grueling labor in the informal sector.
The Price of a Broken Promise
Ten months ago, a 33-year-old Nigerian woman sold her car and paid 800 euros to an intermediary who promised her a stable job as a caregiver for the elderly. “My sister, who works at an airport in Nigeria, saw so many people traveling to Cape Verde,” she told Lusa, speaking on condition of anonymity. “A woman claimed to run an agency that handled everything.”
When she touched down in the capital city of Praia, the “agent” was nowhere to be found. Alone, unable to speak the local Creole, and without contacts, she spent weeks wandering the streets in search of help. While she eventually found work as a domestic helper earning 24,000 escudos (218 euros) a month, her story is a rare “success” in a landscape of predatory recruitment.
Trapped by “Criminal Associations”
José Ramos Viana, president of the African Community Platform, warns that these stories are not accidents. He describes organized networks that recruit fraudulently in countries like Nigeria and Guinea-Bissau. “They promise the world, take the money, and then vanish. These are criminal associations,” Viana says. He notes that exploitation often happens within the communities themselves, where established residents take advantage of newcomers’ desperation and lack of legal status.
There is also the recurring “illusion” that Cape Verde is an easy gateway to the European Union. Some migrants pay for forged documents under the false promise of a quick transfer to Portugal, only to find themselves stranded and undocumented in Cape Verde.
Hard Labor and Vanishing Wages
In the neighborhoods of Praia, the migrant struggle is visible in the construction sector. Celestino Dias of the Guinean association Cabaz di Terra says many migrants end up in the informal sector with no social protections. “Some companies take advantage of them, and they accept whatever they find because they have families to support,” Dias explains.
One migrant from Guinea-Bissau, who previously worked as a merchant, now spends his days paving streets under a punishing sun. He was told he could earn 70,000 escudos (634 euros) in construction. The reality? Approximately 1,000 escudos (9 euros) a day for a helper.
“The work is very hard,” he says, gesturing to his group of coworkers, none of whom wore protective equipment. “Wages are almost always delayed. I can’t even send money home to my wife and four children.”
A Challenge for Authorities
Cape Verde’s Inspector General of Labor, Anildo Fortes, acknowledges the risks. He points to the construction industry as a “critical sector” due to high turnover and informality. “These workers change sites frequently, which makes inspection difficult,” Fortes admits. While he insists authorities are monitoring human trafficking and labor abuses, the sheer scale of the informal economy remains a barrier to justice.
Ironically, this crisis of exploitation comes as the Cape Verdean government and local businesses complain of a massive domestic labor shortage, driven by Cape Verdeans themselves emigrating to Europe. While the government argues the country must recruit foreign workers to fill the gap, advocates say that without stronger protections, these “recruits” will continue to fall victim to a system built on false hope.
Image: Pexels – Carlo Jünemann
