Born to an unwed mother far from home, this baby cannot leave

Precious’ mother, Penina Wanjiru Kihiu, came to Saudi Arabia in 2019. Kihiu, now 32, worked for an abusive employer for nine months, she said. When he finally let her quit, she said, he abandoned her, nearly broke, at the airport. Another Kenyan offered shelter and helped her find work as a freelance housekeeper. Most mothers interviewed by the Times were working freelance when they became pregnant. Leaving their employers violates Saudi labour and immigration regulations, which human rights groups say are a form of “modern-day slavery” – but it is also common. Employers and Saudi officials call the vast workforce of women like Kihiu “runaways”. Kenyan freelancers call themselves by another name: kemboi. The term is inspired by the Kenyan Olympian Ezekiel Kemboi, whose sport is steeplechase racing, in which athletes leap over hurdles. As a new kemboi, Kihiu relied on a Nepali taxi driver to ferry her around Riyadh. They began dating, and soon, she said, she missed her period. Most mothers interviewed by the Times conceived their children during a relationship with another immigrant. Four said that they had been raped. Two said they had not realised they were pregnant when they arrived in Saudi Arabia. Pregnant women are entitled to medical care, regardless of their paperwork, the Saudi government centre said. But when an unmarried woman gives birth, the hospital must notify the police of an “illegal pregnancy” Mufareh Asiri, the medical director of the women’s health hospital at King Saud Medical City, said. So, like many single mothers, Kihiu gave birth at home. After eight hours of labour, Precious arrived on May 17, 2022. Precious’ day care was run by a matronly proprietor named Agatha. Kihiu would spend days or weeks working and then visit her daughter when she returned. While she was gone, Agatha became Precious’ surrogate mother. One day in March, Kihiu finished a job and bought diapers for Precious, planning to visit her the next day. That evening, police raided Kihiu’s housing complex. She was arrested along with other East African residents, she said, in what she assumes was an immigration crackdown. On March 28, Kihiu was deported to Kenya, alone. The Saudi government did not respond to questions about her case, but said that separating a mother and child was not allowed “under any circumstance”. Precious would not have been able to leave the country without documents. Several women said that authorities had denied their pleas to self-deport with their children. In the end, the mothers can leave. Their children cannot. For Precious, the day care is home now. An almost impossible task Because the kingdom has no written penal code, the boundaries of permissible behaviour are fuzzy. Two unmarried mothers interviewed by the Times said that they had been briefly jailed. Others, including several who gave birth in hospitals, said they had faced no repercussions. The snag came when they tried to register their children. On paper, all children in Saudi Arabia are entitled to birth certificates, and parents are obligated to report home births to the authorities, the Saudi government centre said. In reality, single mothers fall into a bureaucratic abyss. When foreign parents apply for birth certificates, authorities are supposed to “verify that the marital relationship exists”. An absent or uncooperative father can hinder a child’s registration. Asked how unmarried women could obtain birth certificates at his hospital, Asiri said it was a “complicated process” involving social workers and the police. “By the end, she can get it,” he said. “But I’m not sure how.” Many mothers turn to their embassies for help. Countries like the Philippines operate shelters for destitute mothers in Saudi Arabia, guide them through the process of obtaining birth certificates and exit permits for their children, and buy them plane tickets. Several mothers said that workers at the Kenyan Embassy called them prostitutes or accused them of seducing men. Some mothers received Kenyan birth certificates at the embassy, but could not say why they succeeded. Others could not get them, and similarly had no idea why. “Our government, I think they don’t care,” said Rose Namusasi, a Kenyan woman who works at a school in Riyadh and has assumed an unofficial role lobbying Kenyan officials on behalf of the mothers. This article originally appeared in The New York Times. Get a note directly from our foreign correspondents on what’s making headlines around the world. Sign up for our weekly What in the World newsletter.