Mary Basil, a young woman; probably in her early thirties, was born in Nairobi, Kenya. She got married to her abusive husband and had four kids. Earlier on, her parents neglected her for no reason. Her mother considered her as a burden. She worked as a temporary housemaid, until when she got fired recently. Her father, a carpenter, considered his daughter as “bad luck”. They both chased their daughter out of the house at the age of 20 and left her to fend for herself until she met her husband who turned out to be a monster. He would beat her on several occasions and even rape her.
Mary couldn’t take it anymore and she decided to leave for Saudi Arabia, one of the nine countries located in the Arabian Peninsula. She left her kids with her sister back in Kenya. She went to look for greener pastures, save enough money, come back home and probably start her own business. She didn’t know what lay ahead of her in Saudi. She heard, on several occasions, of Kenyan girls who were maltreated or killed in Saudi, yet she went there anyway. A greedy agent helped her with her travelling documents, and off she flew.
In Riyadh, the capital city of Arabia, a certain Arabian family living there did not welcome her with open arms as she expected. They treated her with contempt, except for the kids, a boy and a girl. The boy was eleven years old and the girl, nine years old. They were friendly to Mary, they were also too curious because they haven’t seen a black person before,
Asked the girl. “اهلا كيف انت؟”
“I don’t understand Arabic,” responded Mary.
“She greeted you. She asked, how are you?” said the boy.
“Oh! I’m fine thank you!” Mary answered.
“I can speak English too, dummy!” The little girl scoffed at her brother.
“Does your school teach English?” Asked Mary.
“Well, not really, they said that they will introduce English to all primary schools starting next year,” he answered.
“What’s your name?” Asked Mary.
“My name is Ahmad Asghar and my sister…”
“My name is Sadira Zahra because I’m smart and pretty, unlike my brother here,” answered Sadira.
“Hey! That’s not true!” Said Ahmad.
“You both have nice names,” said Mary.
“What’s your name?” Asked Sadira.
“You can call me Aunty Mary,” replied Mary.
“Would you like to know my parents’ names?” Asked Ahmad.
“If you insist,” said Mary.
“My father’s name is Muhammad Asghar while my mom is Maryam,” said Ahmad.
“Okay, it’s time for you two to go to bed, it’s late,” said Mary.
“Okay Aunty Mary,” the answered in unison.
Very early the following morning, Mrs. Maryam woke up Mary while pouring cold water on her. Mary woke up gasping.
“Hey, lazy girl! Do you think you come here and waste your time here?” Asked Mrs. Maryam in broken English.
“No, madam,” answered Mary.
“Here, take mop, fetch water outside and clean house! Now!” Shouted Mrs. Maryam.
“But, Ma’am, it’s 2.00 AM in the morning,” pleaded Mary.
“Are you telling me what to do in my house you stupid girl?” Asked Mrs. Maryam while pulling Mary’s hair.
“No, ma’am, you’re hurting me,” cried Mary.
“Go outside, fetch water, come back, mop the house! This is what I’m paying you to do!” Retorted Mrs. Maryam.
“Okay ma’am. Please don’t hurt me,” pleaded Mary.
“I will hurt you whenever I want to! You are nothing but a common black maid, you hear me?!” Shouted Mrs. Maryam.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Mary.
“Get to work before I give you such a beating!” Roared Mrs. Maryam.
“Yes ma’am,” responded Mary.
Mary took the mop and a pail and headed outside, it was still dark and freezing cold. After fetching water from a nearby tap, she went inside and started mopping the house immediately. The kids were fast asleep, including their father. Mrs. Maryam kept on coming with huge piles of clothes and throwing them at Mary’s face. As if that was not enough, she sent Mary on an errand in the middle of the night.
“Go to the supermarket and buy bread and some cheese. Come back and prepare gahwa for everybody, understood?” Said Maryam.
“I don’t understand, what is gahwa?” Asked Mary.
“You are pretty but stupid, you should be a model instead. I won’t tell you what gahwa is but if you buy something else, I will fire you on the spot. What are you waiting for? Go!” Ordered Maryam.
Mary goes to the market at 3AM in the morning, there were no taxis around so she decided to go on foot. After a long struggle of asking for directions from passerbys, she was shown the way. The journey was long and tiresome but finally she was able to arrive at the market. But most of the malls were closed and there was nobody selling.
Poor Mary decided to go back home, on the way back, Mary is ambushed by three unknown men who placed a chloroform-laced handkerchief on her mouth, making her unconscious. They then placed her inside their car and sped off.
The next thing happened so fast; Mary woke up to find herself in an operating room. On a stool beside her, was a tray full of surgical instruments like scalpel holders, a blade, scissors and forceps. Bloody tissues and some cotton wools were all over the floor.
Mary was still unconscious but awake, she looked around and noticed two people in doctors overall, discussing something with a woman wearing a niqāb (a hijab that covers the full face). As soon as Maryam noticed that Mary was awake, she left the room immediately.
“Where am I? What’s happening here? Tell me please!” Asked Mary.
The two men were silent. They too, left the room, leaving Mary all alone. Mary wanted to get up but she felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that blood was oozing out just below her rib cage on the left side of her spine. That was when it hit her; they had harvested her left kidney! Without her consent! She was shocked and let out a loud deafening scream which scared some nearby birds away.
Struggling to stand up, her wound was still fresh, and she fainted due to loss of blood. Thirty minutes later, she woke up in the hospital, an Arabian doctor was checking up on her vital signs. She assured Mary, in fluent English, that she will be okay.
“What about the hospital bills, I have no money to pay for the…”
“Don’t worry about the hospital bills, someone cleared your bills a while ago,” said the doctor.
“Who?” Asked Mary.
“She asked us not to disclose her name to you, I’m afraid,” said the doctor.
Mary immediately knew who paid for her hospital bills; she left the hospital a day before her discharge. She then went straight to her employer’s home but found no one. There was nobody in the house, the house was completely vacant. They haven’t even paid her salary, after all the hard work and the humiliation they put her through.
She went to The Police Department of Riyadh Province to report, but the police were of no help at all. The language barrier made it hard for Mary as she knew little or no Arabic. Frustrated, and with nothing to go back home with, she took her own life at the bridge. She fell down to her own death.
News about her death made headlines, both locally and internationally. Her family in Kenya was shocked by the news of their daughter’s death as well as her sister too. Kenya, as a whole, was shocked by the news. Some angry netizens took to social media and urged the Kenyan government to take the matter seriously and deal with the perpetrators.
Efforts of reaching out to the agent, who was responsible for Mary’s predicament, was futile. A hot pursuit for the agent was conducted, but bore no fruit. Kenyans demanded justice for Mary, the government promised to intervene and collaborate with the Arabian government in order to find Mary’s employer, who was also on the run.
Years later, still no justice for Mary, and the cycle continues. The deaths of Kenyan girls in Saudi Arabia are reported almost every week, but nothing is being done. The Arabian nightmare continues to haunt Kenyans.