Place: our office in Tel Aviv. Time: a Tuesday afternoon in late December 2009, reception hours for refugees and asylum seekers. Ahmed Ibn Hassan (all names have been changed), a refugee from Darfur, sits on the edge of a chair, facing me, and seems perturbed. I look at his photo in the tattered passport he gives me. It shows a man in his late twenties, wearing a dark jacket and a striped tie. Had he worn his best outfit to be photographed, or was it the way he dressed every day? What was his profession? His excellent English implied that he had graduated from a college or university. But it isn’t the time or place to talk about his past, so I restrain my curiosity, and just ask him how he is today. He smiles. If he was OK, would he have waited three hours to talk with a Kav LaOved worker? I point out that I’m a volunteer, and ask how I can help.

Ibn Hassan starts to tell his story, which relates to eight weeks between 1 August 1 and September 17, 2009, during which he worked as a cleaner in a large branch of a supermarket chain store located in a popular shopping-mall in the Tel Aviv region. His employer was a contractor named Ali, about whom he has no information other than his cell phone number. Ali had promised to pay him 20 shekels for each hour’s work and Ibn Hassan agreed to work six days a week, around 15 hours each day, and sometimes nights too.

On September 10 he asked, for the first time, why he hadn’t received his August wages, and the comforting answer was “You’ll get them tomorrow.” Helped by his friends, Ibn Hassan quickly learned that “tomorrow” in his employer’s language means “never”, in the reality of workers like him. He decided not to wait and on 17 September asked Ali for his wages, saying he would leave the job. For the whole period, altogether 585 hours, his salary was 11,700 shekels.

Ali paid him 4,500 shekels in cash, and gave him two checks postdated to October (3000 shekels) and January 2010 (4200 shekels). In October Ibn Hassan went to the Beinleumi Bank branch in Kiryat Gat, where Ali had directed him, although the latter has no account with that branch. At the branch, a clerk told him that there were no funds in the account, and he quickly phoned Ali. From that moment on Ali vanished.

In December, Ibn Hassan heard about Kav LaOved from a friend, and here he is, saying he’s afraid that the check which is soon due, is bad too, and asks how we can help him. The account owner’s name was on the check, but instead of an address there was just a mailbox and a cell phone number. Without much hopes of getting a reply, I phoned the number and was surprised when it was answered. “Is Ali around?” “No,” replied a woman’s voice. Is she Ali’s wife? “And who wants to know?” I introduced myself and asked how the check from her account had reached her partner’s worker. “Ask Ali” was the reply, and she refused to give me his cell phone number.

There was no other choice, so I tried the number that Ibn Hassan gave me and – surprise – Ali replied. He obviously knew what was going on, since before I could say a word, he shouted “Why are you bothering my wife? What’s wrong with you? You believe someone who’s been slandering me for a month? I’m going to sue him for blackmail, threats, and the damage he caused me, and you too. All of you there! Did you know he threatened me? That he extorted four thousand shekels from me? Did he even work for me? Let’s see his work card”.

I let him pour out his rage to the end, then said “Calm down, he has bad checks from you and your wife. His name’s written on them in your handwriting. Shall I go on?” I reminded him that the worker had signed a card, and said that I would be contacting the person responsible for cleaning staff in the supermarket chain, and at the same time would complain about him as an employer who consistently violates the labor laws. Additionally, I would be sending a letter to the Industry, Trade and Labor Ministry about illegal withholding of wages and non-payment of minimum wage – a letter already being drafted. I detailed our demands from him, in the event that Ibn Hassan would take him to Labor Court: minimum wage differentials, payment for overtime and work at night, unpaid travel expenses, compensation for illegally withheld wages, for work-days wasted while searching for his wages, and repayment of the costs of his fruitless journey to Kiryat Gat. Ali closed his cell phone.

Ibn Hassan looked at me with an “I told you so” expression, and decided to go for a lawsuit. Ten minutes later, Ali’s name appeared on Ibn Hassan’s phone. He had a new offer. He suggested meeting Ibn Hassan to pay him 3000 shekels in cash and to give him a new check for the outstanding amount, payable in early March. We decided to accept his offer. The next day, I phoned the woman responsible for cleaning staff at the branch where Ibn Hassan had worked, told her about the worker’s complaint, and asked her to send us his work card. She referred me to the manager of the HR department of the chainstore's headquarters – who asked me to “urgently” fax her the “details of the matter”, so she could find out, verify, check and get back to me “quickly” with a full response. Needless to say, I’m still waiting for her response.

Around a month later, at the beginning of April, Ibn Hassan got in touch with us, with two bits of news. The good news – that some of his wages had been given him in cash, as promised. The bad and totally unsurprising news was that the check postdated to March was also bad. Ibn Hassan was now ready to sue Ali and go to the very end, that is, suing him for everything possible under the circumstances. I suggested talking to Ali, in a final attempt to solve matters peacefully, before sending a complaint for legal processing.

Ali answered our phone call quickly, as if he’d been waiting, and perhaps even planning for the conversation. Without beating around the bush, he said that in his opinion he’d already repaid the wages owing to Ibn Hassan, and so he thought it correct to cancel the final check that he’d given. This time I felt my patience was wearing thin, and told him that Ibn Hassan was determined to sue him and that the check provides evidence for his lack of good faith. His tone softened, and he asked me if he could meet with Ibn Hassan at our office, to end the whole affair.

Employers often suggest meeting at our office with the worker who’s complained about them, claiming they are only willing to settle matters with him in our presence. Over time, I’ve learnt to be skeptical of these proposals, after many cases where the employer didn’t turn up to the meeting, and the disappointed worker was humiliated all over again. 

But I was surprised for the better: Ali came together with his friend Muhammad who from now on, as he explained, was his subcontractor and responsible for paying workers’ wages. As he was talking, Muhammad took a checkbook from his pocket and asked for a pen. This time, I understood we were being offered a back-to-back transaction in which Muhammad would give Ibn Hassan a check from his personal account, dated July 2010. But Ibn Hassan refused. He had lost his faith in Ali and was unwilling to take on the new check transactions. He wants his money in cash, and now, and I supported him. Ali didn’t give up and used my services as an interpreter and energetic gestures to convince Ibn Hassan that the money will be paid, and that if he disappointed him, Ali would be willing to stand trial and bear the consequences.

At that point, he asked me if we also handle matters of Palestinian workers. Certainly, I said, what’s the problem? It’s about an entry permit for a Palestinian worker in Israel, who is blacklisted; he’s the brother of Muhammad, who meanwhile signed the check to give to Ibn Hassan, who for his part is still doubtful and unconvinced. However, I suggest that he accept the check. I have a feeling that this time Ali really means to end the affair, which now totals 4200 shekels – an issue that began in August 2009 and whose end is still unsure.