I wrote something as introduction but later backspaced because these stories describe everything. This one is old but heartbreaking (abridged):
Quote:
A Maid’s Execution
Basharat Peer
January 11, 2013
On Wednesday, the Saudi Arabian government beheaded Rizana Nafeek, a Sri Lankan woman who had worked as a maid in the kingdom, holding her responsible for the death of the four-month-old baby of her employer.
Nafeek—the daughter of an impoverished wood-cutter from a village in Trincomalee, in northern Sri Lanka—was a seventeen-year-old in the second week of her job as a maid in the Saudi town of Dawadmi when the child died in her care on May 22, 2005. She said that she had been bottle-feeding him when he choked. Her employer, Naif Al-Otaibi, accused her of strangling the child after an argument with his wife and took her to a local police station, where she was arrested.
Nafeek was tried in the Dawadmi High Court without legal representation. The main evidence against Nafeek was a “confession” she had signed in the police station. On June 16, 2007, the Dawadmi High Court sentenced her to death. After the news of her conviction spread, Fernando Basil, a Sri Lankan expatriate who runs the Hong Kong-based human-rights group Asian Human Rights Commission, hired a Saudi lawyer named Kateb Al Shammari and appealed Nafeek’s conviction.
To lift up her family from desperate poverty, Nafeek had dropped out of high school in Mutter village near Trincomalee in Sri Lanka and moved to Saudi Arabia to work as a maid. Men from domestic-worker recruiting agencies based in the Sri Lankan capital, Colombo, tour the countryside selling Saudi and Gulf dreams of prosperity to impoverished families. It is a process that is replicated in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Philippines, among other places. Nafeek’s family was convinced, but they faced a technical problem: she was a minor, seventeen years old, born on February 4, 1988. For a fee, the agent made her passport with a falsified date of birth, which listed her as a twenty three year old, born on February 2, 1982. And with that Nafeek became one of the twenty-five million migrant domestic workers in the Middle East, mostly from Asia and Africa.
Although their remittances lift their societies from stark poverty, a foreign maid steps into a world of abuse, overwork, and suspicion. Migrant workers enter Saudi Arabia and most other oil-rich Middle Eastern countries through a system known as kafala, or sponsorship. Kafala has happier roots; it is the Bedouin tradition of granting a stranger temporary refuge and feeding him as long as he wishes. In the modern Arab world, kafala has become an oppressive, non-transferable visa regime, which ensures that a foreign worker can only work for the kafeel, the employer who sponsored his/her visa. On a worker’s arrival, the kafeel generally confiscates his or her passport, and the worker is left with little protection.
In 2008, more than three years after Nafeek was arrested, the lawyer Kateb Al Shammari was able to defend her case in the same Dawadmi High Court that had sentenced her to death. In the course of the off-and-on hearings over the next months, a complicated picture began to emerge.
On the date of the infant’s death, Al-Shammari argued, Nafeek was a minor; he produced her birth certificate to back up his claim. Saudi Arabia, a signatory to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, is obliged not to execute a person convicted of a crime when he or she was a minor. (The United States is a signatory, as well, but remains one of the three countries, apart from Somalia and South Sudan, who have not ratified it.)
Al Shammari also argued that Nafeek had not been hired as a nanny, but a general maid, and had no prior training in child care. She was a left alone to feed the child, and didn’t know how to save him when he choked. In an affidavit, Nafeek says that while she was feeding the baby, she saw milk oozing out of his mouth and nose.
Nafeek, who appeared in the court during the hearings, told the judges that her confession at the Dawadmi police station had been made under duress and as a result of a physical assault. Shariah Law, which applies in Saudi Arabia, does not accept statements made under duress. Her lawyer raised questions about the linguistic capability of Mustaffa Saibo, an immigrant worker, who had translated the confession, and sought to cross-examine him. But the judge dismissed that request: according to Saibo’s employer, he had left Saudi Arabia.
If the Saudi authorities conducted an autopsy or any other forensic inquiry to establish the cause of death of the infant, they have kept strangely quiet about it. I found no mention of any medical inquiry in the press coverage of the case and researchers at Human Rights Watch who followed the case hadn’t come across any either. Given the international pressure, one would expect Saudi prosecutors to produce one if they had it.
The Dawadmi High Court had been instructed to hear the case and pass its observations to the Supreme Court. Finally, in October of 2010, the Saudi Supreme Court in Riyadh endorsed the death sentence for Nafeek, holding her guilty of murder.
For the next two years, Nafeek remained on death row. Saudi Law grants the family members of a victim the right to pardon the life of the person who faces death for killing their relative in exchange for blood money. The Al-Otaibis turned down the clemency pleas. So did the Saudi King, despite appeals from the Sri Lankan government.
Nafeek remained in prison in Dawadmi. A Sri Lankan woman, Kifaya Iftikhar, who works as a dentist in Riyadh, would visit her every month or two. “She wasn’t bothered by anyone in the prison. She was fed and treated well there,” Iftikhar told me. The two women developed a routine. As Iftikhar was about to reach Nafeek’s prison, she would call her mother in Sri Lanka and tell her to be ready to speak to the daughter. Inside the prison cell, Iftikhar would call again and let Nafeek speak to her mother. Even after the Supreme Court had confirmed her death sentence, Nafeek was still hopeful. “She didn’t realize that her chances of getting out were very bleak. Even in my last meeting with her a month earlier, she talked about when she would be released,” Iftikhar added. Iftikhar and Nafeek’s family decided against speaking to her about her execution, although there were rumors, for the past month, that the date would be soon.
On Wednesday morning, Iftikhar travelled again from Riyadh to Dawadmi prison to visit Nafeek. As she approached the prison, she called Nafeek’s mother to prepare her for a conversation with her daughter. At the prison gate, the guards stopped Iftikhar. “You can’t meet her today. Please come back tomorrow or some other time,” a guard said. She began her journey back to Riyadh. At a stop in the journey, Iftikhar read about Nafeek’s execution. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Nafeek’s mother about her execution and called one of her neighbours and said, “We have lost her.” (The New Yorker)[/quote]
[quote=Wikipedia]Confession
According to the Asian Human Rights Commission, "Nafeek allegedly signed a confession, but her lawyers argue that the confession was made under duress and, more importantly, Nafeek had no access to a translator during the initial questioning after she was arrested in 2005. Confessions are typically written in Arabic and signed by fingerprint." Nafeek signed an affidavit on 30 January 2007 stating that the confession had been coerced:
"The madam came home at about 1.30 p.m. and after having seen the infant, she assaulted me with slippers and hands and took the infant away. Blood oozed from my nose. Thereafter police came and took me into their custody. I was assaulted at the police station too. They assaulted me with belt and coerced me for a statement stating that I had strangled the infant. They intimidated me that I would have been killed in the event I was adamant not to give a statement to the effect that I strangled the infant and electrocuted, I would be killed.
In these circumstances, I under duress placed my signature on the written paper they gave to me. They took me to another place and asked a question, as I was virtually in a state with loss of memory and in fear and frightened mood, I had happened to tell them that I strangled the infant. In the name of Allah, I swear and aver that I never strangled the infant." (Wikipedia)
Basharat Peer
January 11, 2013
On Wednesday, the Saudi Arabian government beheaded Rizana Nafeek, a Sri Lankan woman who had worked as a maid in the kingdom, holding her responsible for the death of the four-month-old baby of her employer.
Nafeek—the daughter of an impoverished wood-cutter from a village in Trincomalee, in northern Sri Lanka—was a seventeen-year-old in the second week of her job as a maid in the Saudi town of Dawadmi when the child died in her care on May 22, 2005. She said that she had been bottle-feeding him when he choked. Her employer, Naif Al-Otaibi, accused her of strangling the child after an argument with his wife and took her to a local police station, where she was arrested.
Nafeek was tried in the Dawadmi High Court without legal representation. The main evidence against Nafeek was a “confession” she had signed in the police station. On June 16, 2007, the Dawadmi High Court sentenced her to death. After the news of her conviction spread, Fernando Basil, a Sri Lankan expatriate who runs the Hong Kong-based human-rights group Asian Human Rights Commission, hired a Saudi lawyer named Kateb Al Shammari and appealed Nafeek’s conviction.
To lift up her family from desperate poverty, Nafeek had dropped out of high school in Mutter village near Trincomalee in Sri Lanka and moved to Saudi Arabia to work as a maid. Men from domestic-worker recruiting agencies based in the Sri Lankan capital, Colombo, tour the countryside selling Saudi and Gulf dreams of prosperity to impoverished families. It is a process that is replicated in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Philippines, among other places. Nafeek’s family was convinced, but they faced a technical problem: she was a minor, seventeen years old, born on February 4, 1988. For a fee, the agent made her passport with a falsified date of birth, which listed her as a twenty three year old, born on February 2, 1982. And with that Nafeek became one of the twenty-five million migrant domestic workers in the Middle East, mostly from Asia and Africa.
Although their remittances lift their societies from stark poverty, a foreign maid steps into a world of abuse, overwork, and suspicion. Migrant workers enter Saudi Arabia and most other oil-rich Middle Eastern countries through a system known as kafala, or sponsorship. Kafala has happier roots; it is the Bedouin tradition of granting a stranger temporary refuge and feeding him as long as he wishes. In the modern Arab world, kafala has become an oppressive, non-transferable visa regime, which ensures that a foreign worker can only work for the kafeel, the employer who sponsored his/her visa. On a worker’s arrival, the kafeel generally confiscates his or her passport, and the worker is left with little protection.
In 2008, more than three years after Nafeek was arrested, the lawyer Kateb Al Shammari was able to defend her case in the same Dawadmi High Court that had sentenced her to death. In the course of the off-and-on hearings over the next months, a complicated picture began to emerge.
On the date of the infant’s death, Al-Shammari argued, Nafeek was a minor; he produced her birth certificate to back up his claim. Saudi Arabia, a signatory to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, is obliged not to execute a person convicted of a crime when he or she was a minor. (The United States is a signatory, as well, but remains one of the three countries, apart from Somalia and South Sudan, who have not ratified it.)
Al Shammari also argued that Nafeek had not been hired as a nanny, but a general maid, and had no prior training in child care. She was a left alone to feed the child, and didn’t know how to save him when he choked. In an affidavit, Nafeek says that while she was feeding the baby, she saw milk oozing out of his mouth and nose.
Nafeek, who appeared in the court during the hearings, told the judges that her confession at the Dawadmi police station had been made under duress and as a result of a physical assault. Shariah Law, which applies in Saudi Arabia, does not accept statements made under duress. Her lawyer raised questions about the linguistic capability of Mustaffa Saibo, an immigrant worker, who had translated the confession, and sought to cross-examine him. But the judge dismissed that request: according to Saibo’s employer, he had left Saudi Arabia.
If the Saudi authorities conducted an autopsy or any other forensic inquiry to establish the cause of death of the infant, they have kept strangely quiet about it. I found no mention of any medical inquiry in the press coverage of the case and researchers at Human Rights Watch who followed the case hadn’t come across any either. Given the international pressure, one would expect Saudi prosecutors to produce one if they had it.
The Dawadmi High Court had been instructed to hear the case and pass its observations to the Supreme Court. Finally, in October of 2010, the Saudi Supreme Court in Riyadh endorsed the death sentence for Nafeek, holding her guilty of murder.
For the next two years, Nafeek remained on death row. Saudi Law grants the family members of a victim the right to pardon the life of the person who faces death for killing their relative in exchange for blood money. The Al-Otaibis turned down the clemency pleas. So did the Saudi King, despite appeals from the Sri Lankan government.
Nafeek remained in prison in Dawadmi. A Sri Lankan woman, Kifaya Iftikhar, who works as a dentist in Riyadh, would visit her every month or two. “She wasn’t bothered by anyone in the prison. She was fed and treated well there,” Iftikhar told me. The two women developed a routine. As Iftikhar was about to reach Nafeek’s prison, she would call her mother in Sri Lanka and tell her to be ready to speak to the daughter. Inside the prison cell, Iftikhar would call again and let Nafeek speak to her mother. Even after the Supreme Court had confirmed her death sentence, Nafeek was still hopeful. “She didn’t realize that her chances of getting out were very bleak. Even in my last meeting with her a month earlier, she talked about when she would be released,” Iftikhar added. Iftikhar and Nafeek’s family decided against speaking to her about her execution, although there were rumors, for the past month, that the date would be soon.
On Wednesday morning, Iftikhar travelled again from Riyadh to Dawadmi prison to visit Nafeek. As she approached the prison, she called Nafeek’s mother to prepare her for a conversation with her daughter. At the prison gate, the guards stopped Iftikhar. “You can’t meet her today. Please come back tomorrow or some other time,” a guard said. She began her journey back to Riyadh. At a stop in the journey, Iftikhar read about Nafeek’s execution. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Nafeek’s mother about her execution and called one of her neighbours and said, “We have lost her.” (The New Yorker)[/quote]
[quote=Wikipedia]Confession
According to the Asian Human Rights Commission, "Nafeek allegedly signed a confession, but her lawyers argue that the confession was made under duress and, more importantly, Nafeek had no access to a translator during the initial questioning after she was arrested in 2005. Confessions are typically written in Arabic and signed by fingerprint." Nafeek signed an affidavit on 30 January 2007 stating that the confession had been coerced:
"The madam came home at about 1.30 p.m. and after having seen the infant, she assaulted me with slippers and hands and took the infant away. Blood oozed from my nose. Thereafter police came and took me into their custody. I was assaulted at the police station too. They assaulted me with belt and coerced me for a statement stating that I had strangled the infant. They intimidated me that I would have been killed in the event I was adamant not to give a statement to the effect that I strangled the infant and electrocuted, I would be killed.
In these circumstances, I under duress placed my signature on the written paper they gave to me. They took me to another place and asked a question, as I was virtually in a state with loss of memory and in fear and frightened mood, I had happened to tell them that I strangled the infant. In the name of Allah, I swear and aver that I never strangled the infant." (Wikipedia)

