By Wezzie Gausi:

In the heart of Kanengo Industrial Area in Lilongwe, behind the towering walls of a company owned by foreign direct investors, a dark and painful narrative of exploitation and abuse quietly festers.

For some people, industrial factories symbolise economic growth and employment opportunities, but for Daniel and colleagues, these walls have become cages of suffering.

Daniel, a soft-spoken man in his mid-30s, sits on a broken wooden stool, his face weathered beyond his years. He slowly lifts the leg of his tattered pair of trousers, revealing deep, jagged scars running along his shin.

“Our supervisor beats us like animals,” he whispers, the weight of his words heavy with pain. “For no reason at all. Sometimes, he just lashes out. We have reported the issue but nothing changes.”

Daniel is one of five men subjected to routine beatings by their foreign supervisor at their company.

Their bodies carry the physical evidence of violence, but the emotional toll runs even deeper. Each day, they walk into work knowing they might be assaulted, yet they return out of necessity.

“Our families depend on us. If we leave, there is no food on the table,” Daniel adds, staring blankly ahead.

A cry for dignity amid filth

But physical abuse is only one aspect of the torment. For the over 100 women working at the firm, the degradation is more subtle but equally harmful.

The factory has only one toilet, which doubles as a bathroom, forcing women to manage their menstrual hygiene in deplorable conditions.

Ethel, a production line worker, wipes sweat from her brow as she recalls her daily struggle.

“The toilet is beyond filthy. There’s no privacy and it stinks,” she says. “We are forced to clean ourselves during our periods in that same space. It’s humiliating.”

This treatment violates Sustainable Development Goal 6 (clean water and sanitation), which emphasises universal access to safe and dignified sanitation.

Yet, for Ethel and many others, this right remains a distant dream.

Locked away like prisoners

The exploitation stretches beyond one company.

At another company along Njewa Road in Lilongwe, workers endure a different kind of imprisonment; nearly 50 workers are locked inside poorly ventilated warehouses for gruelling 10-hour shifts.

Ruth, a petite woman with a firm voice, recounts the suffocating reality.

“They lock us in at 7:30 in the morning and only release us in the evening,” she says. “There’s no food, no water, and only one blocked toilet. The smell of faeces and urine fills the room. Sometimes, I feel like fainting.”

The warehouse, packed with bodies and stifling heat, becomes a chamber of slow torment.

Such practices blatantly violate Malawi’s Employment Act, which guarantees safe and humane working conditions, and breach international labour