"We Send Money Home and Hope It Arrives": Migrant Workers in Dubai Speak Out on Rising Transfer Costs

In the bustling corridors of the Central Post Office on Sheikh Zayed Road, Rajesh Kumar stands in line clutching an envelope of cash, preparing to send AED 2,500 home to his aging parents in Kerala. The transaction, once routine, now stings differently. Transfer fees have climbed 18 percent in the past eighteen months, eating into wages already stretched thin by Dubai's rising cost of living.

"Every dirham counts when your family depends on you," says Kumar, who has worked as a maintenance technician in Downtown Dubai for twelve years. "Now I send less frequently. I feel guilty, but what choice do I have?"

Kumar's frustration echoes across Dubai's migrant communities, particularly in labour-dense neighbourhoods like Sonapur and around the Karama and Bur Dubai commercial districts, where remittance shops cluster densely. The World Bank estimates that the UAE processed approximately $30 billion in outbound remittances last year, making it a critical economic lifeline for families across South Asia, Southeast Asia, and Africa as regional crises mount.

At the Philippine Overseas Workers Centre near Deira, social worker Maria Santos fields dozens of calls monthly from distressed migrants. "What we hear is exhaustion mixed with obligation," she explains. "These workers are absorbing cost increases themselves rather than burden families already struggling with inflation and, in some cases, natural disasters or political instability."

The timing compounds pressures. Recent geopolitical tremors—from earthquake devastation affecting remittance-dependent economies to broader regional uncertainties—have made migrants increasingly anxious about the security of their financial lifelines. Some report exploring cryptocurrency transfers or informal banking networks, despite regulatory warnings.

Mohammed Al-Mazrouei, director of community outreach at the UAE Labour Support Foundation, acknowledges the strain. "We've documented that remittance-dependent families have reduced food and healthcare spending as transfer costs rise," he notes. "This isn't merely financial; it's humanitarian."

Industry representatives counter that competitive pressures remain fierce. Banks and digital fintech operators argue that while fees have increased, exchange rates and speed of transfer have improved. Yet migrants themselves report limited alternatives—many lack access to formal banking or struggle with app-based transfers requiring consistent internet reliability.

For workers like Kumar, the calculus grows starker. He's considering reduced contributions to his retirement fund to preserve remittance capacity. "My parents sacrificed everything for my education," he says quietly. "How do I tell them I can send less because of fees I cannot control?"

As Dubai's migrant populations continue shouldering both economic pressures and the anxieties of distant crises, their voices demand attention—not as statistics, but as human struggles navigating an increasingly complex global financial system.

This article was compiled by AI and screened before publishing. See our editorial standards.