DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) – In the tiny oil-rich Kuwaiti sheik, the foreigners who drive the country’s economy, serve society and make up 70% of the population, are struggling to get coronavirus vaccines.
Unlike other states in the Arabian Gulf that administered doses to masses of foreign workers in a race to achieve collective immunity, Kuwait was attacked for vaccinating its own people first.
This leaves legions of workers from Asia, Africa and elsewhere, who clean the homes of Kuwaiti citizens, care for their children, drive their cars and pack their purchases, still waiting for their first doses, despite withstanding the impact of the pandemic.
“The only people I saw at the vaccination center were from Kuwait,” said a 27-year-old Kuwaiti doctor, who, like most people interviewed for this story, spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of government reprisals. “Kuwait has a policy that prioritizes citizens for everything, including public health.”
Kuwaiti officials have not responded to the Associated Press’s repeated requests for comment on its vaccination strategy.
When Kuwait’s vaccination registration website went live in December, officials said health workers, older adults and those with underlying illnesses would be first in line. As the weeks went by, however, it became increasingly clear that most of the doses were going to Kuwaitis, regardless of age or health. Initially, some expatriate medical workers said they were not even able to obtain consultations.
Kuwait’s work system, which links migrants’ residence status to their jobs and gives employers enormous power, prevails in the Gulf states. But hostility to migrants has long been hotter in Kuwait. The legacy of the 1991 Gulf War, which triggered mass deportations of Palestinian, Jordanian and Yemeni workers whose leaders had supported Iraq in the conflict, fueled anxiety about the need for self-sufficiency in Kuwait that continues today – even with workers in the region. Southeast Asia running to fill the void.
A 30-year-old Indian woman who spent her entire life in Kuwait saw her Instagram feed fill with commemorative photos of Kuwaiti teenagers receiving the jab. Her father, a 62-year-old diabetic with hypertension, could not – like the rest of his relatives who live there.
“All the Kuwaitis I know are vaccinated,” she said. “It’s more than just annoying, it’s a realization that no, that’s not cool, there’s no way to feel that I belong here anymore.”
Kuwait vaccinated its citizens at a rate six times higher than that of non-citizens, the Ministry of Health revealed earlier this year. At the time, although some 238,000 foreigners applied online to make an appointment, only 18,000 of them – mostly doctors, nurses and well-connected workers at state-owned oil companies – were actually called to receive the vaccine. Meanwhile, some 119,000 Kuwaitis have been vaccinated.
With information about vaccines available only in English or Arabic, advocates say that this excludes many low-income workers in Southeast Asia who do not speak any language.
The disparity sparked a turbulent debate on social media, with users denouncing what they called the latest case of xenophobia in Kuwait. They say the pandemic has increased resentment among migrant workers, deepened social divisions and hardened the government’s determination to protect its own people first. Medical professionals have warned that Kuwait’s inoculation hierarchy harms public health.
In comparison to the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, among the fastest vaccinators per capita in the world, the Kuwaiti movement has lagged behind. While foreigners wait for vaccines, medical professionals say Kuwaiti citizens remain reluctant to register because of vaccine conspiracy theories widely publicized on social media. Infections soared, prompting the government to impose a strict night curfew last month.
With increasing pressure on the Ministry of Health, barriers have eased in recent weeks, with an increasing number of foreign residents aged 65 and over reporting that they have been vaccinated. Still, most expatriates insist that inequality in access remains impressive.
“We are waiting and waiting for the call,” said a 55-year-old cleaning lady from Sri Lanka. “As soon as I get the call, I will go. I need the vaccine to be safe. “
The government has not released a demographic analysis of foreigners vaccinated against Kuwaitis since outrage over inequality broke out in mid-February, just general vaccination statistics. As of this week, 500,000 people have received at least one dose of Pfizer-BioNTech or Oxford-AstraZeneca, according to health officials.
Even with most frontline workers in unvaccinated supermarkets and cafes, Kuwait is making plans to reopen society for vaccinated people. Those who can prove they have received the jab will be able to attend schools in the fall, go to the cinemas in the spring and skip the quarantine after flying to the country, the government announced.
Foreign workers in Kuwait have experienced this frustration before. When the pandemic first hit, lawmakers, talk show hosts and prominent actresses blamed migrants for the spread of the virus.
As the coronavirus spread through crowded districts and dormitories where many foreigners live, the authorities imposed targeted blockades and published increasing virus counts with a division of nationalities. When infections among Kuwaitis increased, the government stopped releasing demographic data.
“It is easy for migrants to be seen as the root of all problems in Kuwait,” said Rohan Advani, a sociology researcher at the University of California, Los Angeles. “Citizens have no political or economic power, so when they don’t like what’s going on in their country, blaming foreigners is the main way out.”
Despite having an open parliament, the ultimate power in Kuwait is in the hands of the emir in power. Kuwaiti citizens, who are guaranteed a place on the public payroll and reap the benefits of a welfare state from cradle to grave, increasingly call for policies that limit the flow of migrants.
Earlier this year, the government banned the renewal of visas for expatriates over 60 without a university degree, effectively expelling some 70,000 people, including many who have lived in Kuwait for decades.
“This discrimination is not new to us. The pandemic has just highlighted the worst of it, ”said a 30-year-old Lebanese woman who grew up in Kuwait and whose older relatives are still waiting for vaccines.
“But this is life or death,” she said. “I never thought it would get to this point.”