Kenyan women speak out on torture, neglect in Saudi prisons

Hunger strikes, blocked toilets, racial abuse and medical neglect marked months of illegal detention for Kenyan women arrested in Saudi Arabia under unclear circumstances.

For some, the nightmare ended with a quiet deportation. For others, it continues behind prison walls or inside abusive employers’ homes, as families back in Kenya plead for help.

By the time the aircraft wheels touched the tarmac last year at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) on Christmas Day, the Kenyan women stepping onto home soil were no longer the hopeful workers who had left the country years earlier with dreams of transforming their lives and those of their families.

Some arrived without phones, money, documents or luggage — and with no answers. They had not been convicted of any crime, never stood before a judge, and had not been issued charge sheets or court dates.

Yet, for weeks or even months, some were locked in Saudi prisons, surviving hunger, beatings, racial humiliation, medical neglect and psychological torture, all while being told that their own embassy prevented their return.

Leonida Rabera Nyabache, from Kisii County, left Kenya in 2022 like thousands of other women seeking work in the Middle East. Her contract, arranged by an agent, promised a better future. She worked, sent money home and saved for personal projects, hoping to implement them upon her return.

Leonida, who remained in the country until 2025, told The Standard that for nearly two years she worked, sent money home, and saved towards projects she hoped to implement upon her return. “My mother passed away in 2024. Friends contributed money for my air ticket to bury her. I told my employer, but he refused, saying I could not go,” she recounted.

Grief became unbearable, compounded by mistreatment at her employer’s home. “I cried, I grieved alone. He became disrespectful and abusive. I could not take it anymore,” she said.

She eventually left the employer, going out of contract, a decision many domestic workers make when conditions become unbearable. “I joined friends who hosted me while I hustled to find another job. Later, I found another house where I worked for one and a half years. That employer was good,” she said.

According to her, she believed the worst phase had passed, but she was wrong.

Unjust arrests

On October 20, 2025, while staying with friends in Dammam, Saudi police raided the house at night. “They shouted, banged on doors, and forced us to wake up. They touched us inappropriately and forced us outside,” she said.

What followed, Leonida said, was violent, humiliating and traumatic.

“Some were holding underwear in their hands, sleeping naked due to the heat. It was humiliating,” she said.

There were about 70 women in the house, and Leonida was the only Kenyan among Ugandans.

That night marked the start of a journey through multiple police cells across Dammam. They were loaded into vehicles and driven from one cell to another. “That first night, we did not eat. The second day, no food. No water. The third day, still nothing,” Leonida said.

Eventually, they were taken to South Dammam Police Station. “When we arrived, they started taking videos of us. We asked why. They did not tell us. When one woman asked to use the washroom, and was denied, we protested. That is the only reason they allowed her,” she said.

Later, they were transferred again, where officers ordered them to write statements. “That is when they wrote prostitution charges against us. They claimed we were prostitutes. That is not true,” said Leonida.

She said eight Kenyans were among those accused. For four days, they remained without food or water.

Then they were transferred to prison, still without seeing a judge, still without understanding what crime they were alleged to have committed.

Inside prison, Leonida said, the real horror began.

She said that they took all their valuables, phones, money, jewellery, and shaved their hair. “My SIM card is where I used to save money. For all the years I worked in Saudi, that is where my savings were. I had more than Sh600,000. The SIM card disappeared and has never been found to this day,” she said.

Phones were dismantled, covers removed, SIM cards stripped out. “They lined the phones and told us to pick ours, but how could you recognise it? They were shut down and covers removed,” said Leonida.

When the women protested, officers threatened them. “They told us if we continued complaining, we would face five years in jail,” she said.

Protests and hunger strikes

Leonida never got her phone back.For two months, Leonida and others remained in prison without court appearances. Communication with family was denied until protests and hunger strikes forced authorities to relent.

Conditions worsened after transfer to another cell. “It was extremely crowded. One washroom inside. We ate there, slept there. Infections became common. One woman could barely walk. We had to protest to get her medical attention,” Leonida said. Resistance to further transfers led to beatings and isolation.

Deportations were selective. “Ugandans were released after three weeks. Vietnamese and Malagasy followed. Kenyans were left. We were told if we want to die, we can die,” she said.

One Kenyan woman remains in prison with her child, whom police call a “zombie,” highlighting neglect of African children compared to other nationalities.

Isabela Juma, a mother of two from Kisumu County, arrived in Saudi Arabia in 2022. Her initial contract ended peacefully, but she faced problems after seeking a pay rise and working outside her contract. Arrested by police, she expected deportation, but was instead moved between stations before being imprisoned.

Money confiscated during arrest was never returned, and questioning officers led to threats of extended jail terms. “More than 200 people were crowded in one room with a single toilet. Some slept by the door. Menstruating women lacked underwear, forcing them to improvise pads,” she said. Medical care was discriminatory, with Arab workers treated first.

Juma also experienced inhuman beatings. “They kicked and slapped us, poured water on our faces, and handcuffed us,” she said. She was eventually released without explanation. “If we did something wrong, why not charge us? Why arrest, torture, and release us?”

She accused Saudi authorities of racism. “For Africans, Saudi prison is hell on earth. They do not value black skin.”

She also criticised the Kenyan embassy for slow response, claiming delayed travel documents extended her detention.

Pamela Atieno, mother of Immaculate Lavender from Mathare, Nairobi, said her daughter was starved, abused, and unpaid. “At times they lock her out of Wi-Fi. When she goes silent, I fear she is dead. Her two children are now out of school,” she said.

Jennifer Mwanza, Immaculate’s aunt, said the family is desperate. When Immaculate sought help at a police station, officers returned her to the employer, who claimed he could pay for her ticket only after selling camels for dowry.

Hussein Khalid, Executive Director of Vocal Africa, said these cases reflect a broader failure of policy and protection. “You cannot encourage people to work abroad and abandon them when they face abuse. The government must review labour agreements, embassy responsiveness, and recruitment agents,” he said.

The State Department for Diaspora Affairs (SDDA) defended its record, stating that Kenyan workers are recruited under bilateral labour agreements outlining rights, employer obligations, and dispute resolution channels. Workers violating contracts, often called “Kembois,” risk arrest under Saudi laws. The SDDA said all deportation cases last year were processed within seven days, with regular consular visits and emergency travel document issuance.

Nevertheless, some women remain trapped in prisons or abusive households, highlighting systemic gaps in protection, timely intervention, and consular support.