In March 2024, Aleksa, a 24-year-old from Uganda, arrived at Rinas Airport, near the Albanian capital, Tirana, with her brothers, one 27 and the other 28. For the three travelers from East Africa, Albania was an unknown country to them until they learned they could go there to work.

In Saranda, where they began working at a beach bar, they were immediately confronted with a reality different from what had been promised. “They took our passports as soon as we arrived. We thought maybe that’s how it works here,” Aleksa said.

To secure the contract, they had to raise around 2,000 euros each. Albanian agencies, which cooperate with those in Africa, arrange the agreement between the worker and the workplace, including visa applications. Other expenses, such as travel tickets, are paid by the workers themselves. According to the contract, Aleksa was supposed to work as a waitress for eight hours a day; however, in reality, she worked over 14 hours, with only two days off throughout the entire season, earning a monthly salary of 450 euros.

Aleksa, whose name has been changed for fear that the exposure might affect her employment, finds it impossible to meet in person because, she says, she is under constant surveillance. Her phone is confiscated by one of her employers while she is at work. It is not easy for her to speak; she is afraid to report the conditions of her work, fearing the ever-present manager and owner, whom workers say “have a lot of influence in the city.” Finally, late one evening in June 2025, she managed to find some space to talk via video call. On the call, Aleksa clearly appears stressed, constantly afraid that the owners might discover her talking.

Living conditions are as difficult as working conditions. Aleksa says she sleeps in a small room with her brothers and four other men, which makes her feel unsafe. Food is scarce: “just soup and bread, every day,” she said. Fatigue is constant. “I have to scrub the tiles, clean the beach, wash the dishes, flush the toilets […] I’m hungry all the time,” she said.

Her experience is similar to that of Aisha, 27, also from Uganda, who arrived in Albania in May of this year. At Rinas Airport, she was met by an agency representative who sent her to the city of Orikum, where she had signed a work contract. There, she was supposed to work in a hotel, eight hours a day for 500 euros, but in reality, she was taken to a restaurant where she worked up to 14 hours a day, without a single day off.

Like many foreign workers, she had her passport taken away upon arrival. “I couldn’t leave because they had taken my passport; they [the employer] were holding it,” she said.

Aisha says she only managed to get her passport back after going to the local police, who, according to her, intervened on her behalf with the employer. In June, she moved to work at another restaurant in the country’s south, without specifying the city in the conversation, and said the conditions were better than at her previous workplace. The new employer is Chinese, and according to her, they behave more appropriately, although the long working hours remain the same.

Her story is not an isolated case. Similar experiences are shared by dozens of other foreign workers who have come to Albania in recent years. In the absence of a local workforce, Albanian businesses are increasingly relying on workers from Africa and Asia, who often face exploitation, fear and isolation. Confiscation of passports, long working hours and living in difficult conditions have become part of their daily lives.

Aisha and Aleksa, with whom the editorial team came into contact through a Facebook group for foreign workers from Africa, are still in Albania.

Workers’ rights abuses in the shadow of growing tourism

Over the past decade, Albania has become one of the fastest-growing tourist destinations in Europe. With a coastline of over 470 kilometers and relatively competitive prices compared to other European countries, the country has increasingly attracted foreign visitors from the Balkans, Western Europe and beyond. The government of Prime Minister Edi Rama has promoted tourism as one of the main pillars of the country’s economic growth and development.

However, this rapid growth has not come without consequences. The local labor market has failed to keep pace with the rising demand for services. Many young Albanians have emigrated abroad in search of higher wages and better working conditions, creating a significant labor shortage in the country. This shortage becomes especially evident during the tourist season, forcing an increasing number of businesses in the service industry to hire foreign workers to fill the gaps.

The number of foreigners living and working in Albania is steadily increasing. According to the Albanian statistics agency, INSTAT, at the end of 2024, 21,940 foreign citizens were registered with a residence permit, an increase of 2.2% compared to 2023. This trend continues in 2025: State Police data show that by September, around 14,806 foreign citizens had applied for a residence permit, over 8,000 of them for employment reasons, while approximately 11,000 had already been issued a permit.

To facilitate this growing influx and formalize the process, new Albanian legislation has proposed simpler procedures for obtaining work visas, removing the obligation for financial guarantees, and signing bilateral agreements for recruiting labor from abroad. One of these agreements, with the Philippines, aims to bring up to 40,000 skilled workers to Albania to fill shortages in key sectors of the economy.

However, this phenomenon has highlighted serious problems with respect to workers’ rights, especially for foreigners who often face severe abuses, including passport confiscation, threats of deportation, discrimination and unequal treatment. In the absence of an efficient labor inspection system, many of these practices go unpunished.

Regarding cases of illegal possession of passports, the response of institutions has been insufficient. The State Inspectorate of Labor and Social Services (ISHPSHSH), in a response to K2.0, said that such practices, like employers keeping workers’ passports, are a serious violation of human rights and a possible indicator of exploitation or trafficking. However, the confiscation of documents cannot be proven without an official complaint, and in many cases, the police have not registered these violations at all.

Meanwhile, the State Police told K2.0 that complaints remain few. According to official data, only four such cases were referred to the prosecutor’s office during 2024–2025.

The low number of complaints contradicts the reality on the ground, where media reports show dozens of foreign workers, mainly from Asia, having their passports withheld as a form of control and pressure by employers. This gap between reality and official statistics highlights the ineffectiveness of protection mechanisms and reporting avenues. Essentially, these are people who came to work but ended up living under the fear and mercy of those who took their freedom along with their passports.

Gentjan Serjani, from the organization Drejtësi Sociale, which advocates for the rights of foreign workers in Albania, says that workers from third-world countries are particularly at risk. “They face flagrant violations of human rights and the Labor Code, often work longer, are paid less and live in intolerable conditions,” he said. Serjani emphasizes that the problem lies not in the lack of laws, but in the lack of their enforcement and oversight.

He clearly sees the two faces of this exploitation: immigrants who are hired under dubious contracts and forced to perform work beyond what they signed up for, and local workers who often work without contracts at all.

A fragile labor system for locals too

Serious violations of workers’ rights — similar to those often faced by foreign workers — are enabled by an already fragile, unequal and exploitative labor system in Albania, which has long placed local seasonal workers in difficult situations. From long working hours and inadequate living conditions to the lack of contracts and health insurance, seasonal workers across the country — whether in Ksamil, Saranda, Golem or Shëngjin — face widespread violations of labor rights. Informal work remains the norm, leaving many without legal protection and exposed to late payments, unpaid overtime and unsafe conditions, especially in professions such as cooking, cleaning and construction.

Among them are Valmira and Astrit, a couple in their fifties who did not want to be identified by their real names. For most of their lives, they have worked as seasonal workers along various coasts in Greece and Albania. In the last four years, they have returned to live in Albania, working together in restaurant kitchens in the town of Golem, near Durrës, as well as in Ksamil, the well-known tourist village in Saranda.

Tired of years of emigration and seasonal work, Astrit sounds resigned and weary when discussing working conditions in Albania. “Here, neither the conditions nor the pay make you want to work. We did it for four years, but this year we said it’s not worth it,” he said. “We’re getting less now, but at least we can be in our own home.”

These are some of the reasons why, this summer, after many years, they decided not to take seasonal jobs and instead stay in Berat. Even working in Berat, however, does not offer the conditions for a better life.

“We worked from 10:00 in the morning, when they started preparing for lunch, until 11:00 at night, sometimes until midnight, without a break, all day and without a single day off,” said Valmira. “Even here, with 12-hour shifts and only one day off a week, you can’t do anything. We barely see the children; we’re tied here all day.”

Both are worried about their pensions, as they continue to work without contracts, paid in cash, receiving neither pension nor health insurance. The only benefit of working in Berat is that at least they can live in their own home, unlike the small rooms where seasonal workers are often forced to sleep. Usually, because they are a couple, the owners of the restaurants where they have worked in Albania have offered them their own separate room to sleep in, but not to their colleagues.

In small rooms with up to six beds, or in makeshift containers, seasonal workers spend months working 10 to 12 hours a day — without breaks, without safety, and without the opportunity for physical or psychological recovery.

For Gentjana Hasalla, a representative of the Center for Labor Rights (CRLA), tourism in Albania has become an industry built on the foundations of exploitation. Although it is one of the most profitable sectors, it remains among the most informal. Over 68% of seasonal workers surveyed by the Center for Labor Rights in southern Albania reported working without a contract. Only one in four workers has social security.

“The list is long, from the lack of contracts to long hours without compensation. Many workers put in 10 to 12 hours a day, without days off, without overtime pay, and often in inadequate hygienic and sanitary conditions,” said Hasalla.

A similar experience was shared by Jurgen, a 21-year-old who moved from Bulqiza to Tirana to work in the service sector. During the summer season, he relocated to southern Albania for seasonal work. This summer, he worked in the kitchen of a restaurant in Saranda, from noon until midnight.

“The pay is not bad, but the conditions are the same everywhere, no ventilation, it’s hot, and there are too few staff in the kitchen. I’m at the frying pan; it’s very tiring, 12 hours on my feet,” he said during a conversation this summer, adding that he receives his salary “in hand,” without an employment contract and without any contribution toward insurance.

Last summer, Jurgen worked in a hotel in Dhërmi, where he says he faced even worse conditions.

“They kept us on the first floor of the hotel, many workers in one room, with a lot of humidity. I worked more hours than we had agreed,” he said, adding that he had heard of experiences of harsher situations from his friends. “They slept 10 people to one room, like I did last year in Dhërmi. During peak season, it’s the same for everyone — there’s no better.” 

Ferdez Onuzi, from the Institute for Criticism and Social Emancipation (IKESH), an organization that addresses issues of labor rights, describes the reality of seasonal workers as a form of modern slavery.

“Seasonal workers exist only during the season and disappear with it,” he said. Onuzi explains that the lack of official data, the Labor Inspectorate’s inability to carry out effective inspections and the absence of legal protection for seasonal workers make the situation even more unclear and hazardous. Public policies, such as the National Employment and Skills Strategy 2023–2030, mention seasonal workers only in the context of labor or skills shortages, but nowhere do they address the reality of the conditions in which they live and work.

In a response to K2.0 regarding inspection efforts, the State Labor Inspectorate reported that during 2024, it conducted 1,371 inspections in the trade, hotel, bar and restaurant sectors, checking a total of 15,865 employees. Of these, 4,860 workers were found to be receiving the minimum wage, 799 were employed informally, 798 were included in the social insurance scheme as an emergency measure and 1,226 were working without an employment contract.

However, according to labor rights experts and activists, the real number is believed to be much higher. In the absence of a formal relationship between employer and employee, workers have no legal means to claim their rights — leaving them entirely at the mercy of their employers.

Kita, who did not want to use her real name, is another worker who has tried to negotiate for her rights. For the past ten years, she has spent every summer working along the Shëngjin coast in various roles — from cooking to cleaning, yet she is exhausted by the long hours and low pay. This year, Kita decided to push back. She refused to work the usual 14-hour shifts that are common during the tourist season and instead asked to work only eight hours a day — a decision that cost her a salary cut of 470 euros.

She also shares similar concerns with Astrit and Valbona about the lack of social security, and especially the fears she has of the low pension she’ll receive upon retirement.

“We don’t get any kind of insurance,” she said. “At my first job, I was uninsured, but after a lot of effort and insistence, I managed to get it. Now, at the place where I am working this year, I’m again working illegally. We’re in a very bad situation, we work with our soul and teeth, as we say.”

Seasonal work remains one of the most tiring experiences for tourism workers in Albania.

“When you do a seasonal job, you ‘turn off your brain,’” said Valmira. “You make peace with yourself that for those months you will only work and not have a life of your own. You don’t live during that time, the beach is right there in front of you, you can see it, but you can’t touch it.”

“The summer season is death.”

Feature image:  Atdhe Mulla / K2.0

 Want to support our journalism? Become a member of HIVE or consider making a donation. Learn more here.