Corporate slave trader

In a nondescript office, this month, a burly South African 
boilermaker broke down and cried in front of a Perth civil 
servant. Thousands of kilometres from his wife, Richardine, and 
their three children, Ronald Oliviera had reached the end of his 
tether.

The 42-year-old is neither proud nor ashamed of his outburst. It 
just happened.

Freespirit, the company that lured him to Australia on promises 
of wealth and security, had disowned him and, in spite of a 
signed contract and four-year visa issued by the Immigration 
Department, is seeking to have him deported.

Oliveira had broken its cardinal rule. Despite being warned, in 
South Africa and at the offices of the Western Australian Chamber 
of Commerce and Industry, he joined a trade union. And, to make 
matters worse, he tried to inform the public of predicaments 
facing him and at least 28 compatriots.

The day after blowing the cover on a rort that saw immigrants 
paid less than a third of rates earned by Aussies working 
alongside them, he was called to the offices of suburban 
engineering shop, RCR Maintenance, and given his marching orders.

"The supervisor was a very nice guy", Oliveira says. "He tried to 
help me but he said the order came from the top."

The only other South African named in press coverage of their 
protest got the bullet the same day.

What they revealed was an eye-opener to many in Perth.

The tradesmen had read adverts in Johannesburg newspapers that 
advised "hundreds" of skilled positions, carrying lucrative 
salaries, were available in Australia.

On replying, they were called to meetings at the offices of a 
Pretoria-registered company, Australian Business Associates 
(ABA).

There, they were told of limitless opportunities across the 
Indian Ocean and informed their families could travel with them.

"It seemed like a great opportunity for my family", Oliveira 
said. "Jobs are tight in Johannesburg and crime levels are very 
high.

"We talked about it and decided to apply. We wanted to start new 
lives in Australia."

Each South African was charged $5000 for visa applications, 
airfares and ABA's fee. They could pay up-front or take out loans 
from companies associated with ABA, Freespirit and/or the Chamber 
of Commerce and Industry. Just who is responsible for what, and 
the relationships between these entities is unclear, perhaps 
deliberately so, but more of that later.

South Africans know all about "immigration consultants" who 
pocket fees and vanish. Oliveira and his wife figured, on the 
sort of money they were being offered, they could meet repayments 
on a $5000 loan and opted to cover themselves.

When the visas came through, however, the families had 
mysteriously fallen off, but the men were assured that, for 
another $500, they could apply to have wives and children join 
them once they had started work.

Oliveira flew into a clear Perth day with eight compatriots — 
boiler-makers, pipe fitters and welders — on October 12, 2003.

But, right from the off, things were not as they had been led to 
believe.

They went to the Chamber of Commerce and Industry to sign 
contracts and found themselves farmed out to enterprises across 
the state on predominantly short-term contracts.

Mysterious "labour brokers" entered the frame and once a job 
finished they were left to find alternative work themselves. When 
they did, Freespirit, apparently doubling as immigration 
consultant and labour hire operator, would take a cut.

After deductions, they realised, the $20-$26 gross amounts shown 
on their payslips were purely theoretical amounts.

Freespirit was eating away 12 percent of every dollar earned, 
plus extracting another 14 percent from their employers. It was 
also deducting super, rather than adding it, and removing another 
$1 an hour for medical expenses.

Then there was Qantum, the finance house they had been directed 
to in South Africa. It was extracting repayments on their $5000 
loans, based on annual interest rates of 144 percent.

Oliveira found himself handing over $145 a week to Qantum and not 
denting the principal.

In reality, his before tax income worked out to around $13 an 
hour. An Australian Manufacturing Workers' Union (AMWU) lawyer 
put one of Ronald's colleague's at barely $8.50.

And there were no guarantees. Oliveira, for example, worked for 
four different employers in eight months with payless weeks and 
fortnights in between.

AMWU Secretary, Jock Ferguson, labelled the arrangement "pyramid 
labour hire" and called on Freespirit to negotiate a "reasonable 
settlement".

That set in motion a round of duck-shoving in which Freespirit, 
ABA and the Chamber of Commerce and Industry appeared to audition 
for the role of some corporate Pontius Pilate.

Freespirit pulled down the shutters, directing all inquiries to 
law firm, Mallesons, or a public relations company. It has 
refused to negotiate but, Workers Online understands, conceded at 
an Australian Industrial Relations Commission conference it had 
breached the terms of its sponsorship arrangements with the 
Immigration Department.

It also admitted to WA Labor Council officials it had more than 
1000 South Africans in Australia working on four-year Section 457 
visas.

On May 17 its representative, Phillip Fitzgibbon, wrote to 
Oliveira informing him Freespirit had applied to DIMIA for the 
"cancellation" of his visa and suggesting he might like to leave 
the country of his own volition.

He has half a mind to take that advice but AMWU supporters, and 
28 men he has become a spokesman for, are urging him to stay and 
fight his corner. The union is scouring Perth for an employer 
prepared to pick up his sponsorship.

"You know", Oliveira says quietly, "I came here with the 
expectation of permanent residency, working hard, and building a 
new life. That's what they told us.

"Instead, my family is in trouble. I haven't worked for six 
weeks, the interest is building up on my loan and I can't send 
anything back to my wife. She is worried sick and we don't know 
what to do.

"I am surviving on the generosity of my friend and the 
understanding of the people who own this house."

"I spoke to a consumer advice counsellor about our situations and 
he said it was slavery. I agree with him, the whole thing is a 
scam. 

"I am discouraged, I am frustrated and I am stressed out. I don't 
know what to do."

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Workers Online