National

By Jacinta Mutura | 7 hours ago

For eight years, Blessings Iminza has lived without an identity. Each new day is a painful reminder that her dream of returning home remains just that—a dream.

She is not alone; thousands of children born to Kenyan mothers in Saudi Arabia share her fate, trapped in statelessness.

They are of mixed descent; they are unrecognised back in their mothers’ country while their fathers’ countries do not know they exist. Equally, the host country does not know they exist.

The children are fruits of ‘forbidden love’ and now they cannot leave Saudi Arabia and their mothers have to choose between abandoning them and travelling back home.

They are neither recognized by their birth countries nor officially registered in Kenya, they live in limbo - effectively being deprived of basic rights and legal protections.

In distressing tales of hope and hardships, Kenyan mothers who are migrant workers in Saudi Arabia have found themselves in agonising situations.

Yet filled with dreams of providing better lives for their children and families back home, their journeys took an unexpected turn after giving birth to children out of undocumented relationships in a foreign land.

For these mothers, returning home with their children becomes an even more daunting challenge, as many lack the necessary documentation to secure their children’s travel.

Edith Ingasiani, the mother of baby Iminza, narrates her ordeal.

“I have been in Saudi Arabia for 11 years. I gave birth to a baby girl and eight years later, I have not been able to secure her documents. I cannot travel back home without her documents,” she narrates.

Her woes started when she violated her two-year contract and escaped from her employer’s house over what she termed as a ‘difficult working environment.’

Initially, Ingasiani was supposed to travel to Dubai for an Early Childhood Development Education (ECDE) teacher’s job, but her recruiting agent tricked her and she found herself in Saudi Arabia where she was to work as a domestic worker.

“I ended up in a family of five children below five years. I was expected to do all the house jobs except cooking. I could not bear the pressure and the straining environment anymore and I wanted to go back to Kenya,” she recalled.

Six months into the two-year contract, she left the employer’s house and sought help at the Embassy with hopes of being deported back.

Her pursuit to travel back home proved difficult as she did not have money to pay for her return ticket and eventually, she was hooked up with a Kenyan woman in Saudi who helped her among other ‘stuck’ Kenyan women.

The employers had confiscated her passport and Kenyan ID card.

Ingasiani and other women managed to secure jobs though informally. She found herself in a bind, unable to send money home due to lack of documents.

That is when she met a fellow migrant worker from Ghana, who stepped in to help her navigate the complexities of financial transactions in a foreign land. He was sending money on her behalf.

With each visit, their friendship blossomed like a vibrant flower in spring.

What began as a simple transaction grew into something much deeper, and they discovered shared joy in each other’s company.

The connection intensified, weaving their lives together in unexpected ways and before long, the friendship budded into a beautiful romance, and from that love, a precious baby Iminza came into the world.

Tragically, their love story took a heartbreaking turn. The man who was working as a driver on a contract lost his life in a devastating road accident.

In an instant, Ingasiani was left pregnant, and profound sorrow and confusion threw her off the balance.

“The tragic news was broken by his friend. I did not know what to do. I did not know I was pregnant at the time. I discovered later after his death,” she narrated.

“I struggled through the pregnancy and after delivery, I had to start scouting for jobs when the baby was one month old to provide for her,” she recalls.

The world felt heavy on her shoulders as she faced the uncertainty of the future. With Iminza on the way, she was filled with a mix of sorrow and determination.

Alone in her struggle, Ingasiani realised she had to navigate the challenges of motherhood and find new ways to send money home to support her family.

But she was staring at a bigger setback. With the death of her lover, and her identity documents confiscated by her former employer, she could not register her daughter.

To secure a birth certificate in Saudi Arabia, one must have a birth notification card, parents’ identification documents, and a marriage certificate.

ALSO READ: Death in the Gulf: How Kenyan women work like slaves and die in Saudi Arabia

“I did not have any of the documents required. I gave birth at home because I could not be attended to in the hospital without any identification document,” she explains.

Back home in Kakamega, her parents were ailing and the future of her other children was on the verge of collapsing.

Her father died in November 2022 but she could not travel back to bury him. Her mother’s death in February 2023 was even more devastating.

“I went to the deportation centre with my baby but they declined to deport us because I do not have her documents. I was told to either leave her behind and travel alone or get her documents,” Ingasiani narrates painfully.

“How can I leave my daughter behind yet I have been struggling with her for eight years?” she posed.

She claimed that it has been back and forth at the Kenyan Embassy in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

“They have refused to allow me to travel back yet I cannot secure those documents they are asking for. My daughter is eight years old and she has never been to school. I have been homeschooling her,” she said.

Resident fee

Further to her misery, she is required to pay thousands of Saudi Riyals for her daughter’s resident fee.

In 2017, Saudi Arabia’s government introduced a policy that dictates that every foreign employee must pay a monthly resident fee for every dependent family member.

The authorities imposed an annual fee of 100 riyals on each dependent in 2017, then increased it by another 100 riyals in 2018 and 2019. In 2020, the fee was increased to 400 riyals per month.

That means her daughter’s fees have accumulated to 9,400 Riyals (Sh323,000) as of October 2024 - an astronomical amount in light of her low wages.

Ingasiani has not paid the resident fees because she does not have the required documents to process the payment.

“For you to pay that money, you must have a birth certificate. The fees have been accumulating and I still don’t have documents and there is no way I will get her birth certificate because I do not have the documents they are asking for to process it,” she states.

“I just want to come home so I can see my family. My other children also need me. Other countries are repatriating their citizens in Saudi with children apart from Kenya,” she pleaded emotionally.

She faulted the Kenyan embassy in Riyadh for not intervening to help them unlock the legal complexity.

“The embassy is not helping us yet they are earning salaries. They mistreat and insult us every time we go there for help. Why can’t the government intervene to help us travel back?” she wondered.

In the meantime, the daughter keeps nagging the mother over the dilemma and when they will finally leave Saudi Arabia. 

Joys of childhood

Iminza yearns for the simple joys of childhood that seem just out of reach. She dreams of going to school and reuniting with her family but she is stuck with her mother.

With a heavy heart, she said: “I don’t have friends here. We need to go back home. I want to see my family and my other siblings in Kenya.”

She shares the struggles her mother faces stating: “My mother says she doesn’t have money to help us go back home. She is suffering. We need to go back and meet my family. I miss them.”

Iminza’s plight highlights the urgent need for help, as she longs for the comfort of home and the chance to go to school.

As Ingasiani navigates the complexities of her situation, her story sheds light on the challenges faced by many Kenyan migrant workers who face an uncertain future being unable to leave the country due to a lack of legal documents for their children.

Linet Nyongesa from Bungoma is in a similar situation. She went to Saudi Arabia in July 2014 as a domestic worker.

She only worked for a year in a two-year contract before becoming a “Kemboi” a term used by Kenyan migrant workers in Gulf countries to mean a migrant domestic worker who fled from their legal employers and are now undocumented. 

The Kemboi moniker emanates from the heroism of Kenyan athlete Ezekiel Kemboi of 3000-meter steeplechase fame known for his ease at breaking away with speed.

Many African women who migrate to the Gulf States for domestic work face harsh working conditions.

A significant factor contributing to this situation is the problematic “Kafala” system, which requires foreign workers to be sponsored by a local employer, linking their legal status to that individual.

In many instances, the employers confiscate the workers’ passports, thereby exerting complete control over their lives.

Ms Nyongesa, 45, explained how she landed in the hands of another Kenyan migrant worker who helped her get short-term jobs.

In 2019, she got into a romantic relationship with a Ghanaian man working as a migrant worker and gave birth to a baby boy in 2020.

Like hundreds of other Kembois, she delivered the baby at home. But they disagreed and parted ways along the way. Her child too is neither recognised in Saudi nor Kenya. And for that reason, they cannot travel to Kenya.

“I have tried to discuss with the father to help me process the baby’s birth certificate but he has been adamant. He told me if I wanted any kind of help from him, he should in return get full custody of the child,” she explained.

Currently, she is being hosted by another Kenyan in Riyadh. Sadly, her four-year-old son bore the brunt of the mother’s predicament.

As she scouted for jobs, Ms Nyongesa occasionally left her three-month child in a daycare run by fellow Kenyans.

In one instance she went for a month and left the baby in a daycare. He was abused and assaulted. The child had marks all over her body.

“When I told the caregiver I had returned, she escaped from her house and told me where she had dumped the baby in the street. He abused my child and ran away,” she claims.

Worse even, she could not report to the police for fear of being arrested for lack of legal documents.

“I don’t have a passport or working visa. My former employer confiscated it and I cannot dare ask them because I fear they might kill me,” she decried.

Ongoing interventions

For more than ten years, Nyongesa has unsuccessfully tried to come home to her three other children in Bungoma, and now her son in Saudi needs to join school but still, they cannot travel back home.

Her tribulations were worsened by the unpaid resident fees of 400 Riyals for her child.

“I just want to go back home. I am suffering. We are pleading with the government to intervene and help us,” she pleads.

Branice Munyanya, 28, who is also stuck with her undocumented 10-month-old baby in Riyadh told The Standard that they are in a WhatsApp group of ‘Mothers with kids in Saudi Arabia’ that has about 253 members and more groups set up by women living in different cities.

“There are so many groups of mothers in this situation. We get to share our tribulations and encourage one another,” says Munyanya.

According to her, there are hundreds of Kenyan women on the streets of Saudi Arabia with children due to financial constraints.

“These mothers cannot afford food and rent. They depend on well-wishers for survival,” she added.

For Hellenfaith Wanjiru, a mother of two, the challenge goes beyond just being unable to bring her nine-month-old baby girl back from Saudi Arabia.

She’s also dealing with threats from her ex-lover and the father of her daughter, who has vowed to harm them if he does not gain custody of the baby.

Although she gave birth in a hospital, the father who is of Sudanese origin did not give his documents to facilitate the process.

Wanjiru too breached her employment contract and went out in pursuit of greener pastures.

“I was earning 900 Riyals (Sh31,000) under the contract. I felt like the money was not enough and I wanted to make more money. I escaped from my employer,” she explained.

“Life outside of contract is easy. You can do whatever you want. You can go to hotels, malls, coffee dates, you can do anything.  You can rent a house. I was earning more money,” she adds. 

READ: Gulf Death Traps: 283 Kenyan migrant workers died in Gulf between 2020-2022

She claimed that they met in 2023 and they got a child out of their relationship but the union turned frosty and she fled owing to frequent fights and abuse. 

Like other Kenyan women, separated from their homeland, Wanjiru faces an uncertain future being unable to leave the country due to a lack of legal documents for her child and unpaid resident fees.

The Principal Secretary for Diaspora Roseline Njogu said the Kenyan government apprised of the issues in Saudi Arabia, rolled out a Mobile Consular Services (MCS) outreach programme in Riyadh, Jeddah, Medinah, Dammam, Qassim in November 2023.

“The government of Kenya through our Embassy in Riyadh has been working on modalities to ensure challenges faced by our citizens in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia are addressed accordingly and an amicable solution arrived at,”

She added: “The constitution is clear on the matter of citizenship and all is being done to ensure that Kenyans living, working and studying in the Middle East are not only served by the government, but their rights and welfare are protected.”

Ms Njogu assured that there are ongoing talks between the two governments over the issues raised by Kenyan migrant workers.