A 13-year emotional roller-coaster. That has been the story of my life since Tuesday, April 12, 2011, when a cousin called around 8am to break the incredible news that my son, Stephen Bertrand Munyakho – who was working in Saudi Arabia – had been engaged in a fight with a colleague.
Initial reports indicated Munyakho had been stabbed to death. I was hysterical.
A clarification later in the morning that it was his Yemeni workmate, who had died following the Saturday, April 9, 2011 scuffle, did not diminish the gravity of my situation.
The grief at losing a 37-year-old son at the prime of life was replaced by the horror of his imminent execution by the sword.
Gloom engulfed the family, which was already in mourning and was preparing for the burial of a young daughter-in-law, who had succumbed to post-partum-related complications on the same day the Saudi tragedy was unfolding. Talk of Hakuna msiba usiokuwa na mwenzake . (Kiswahili for “Misfortune never comes singly”).
In the course of the year, Stevo – as my son was fondly known by family, friends and all – was tried for murder and to our great relief, handed a five-year prison sentence.
This, according to insiders in Saudi Arabia, would have been just two-and-a-half years behind bars. Alas, our relief was short-lived.
The Yemeni family of the victim appealed the sentence in the Shariah court, citing the “reciprocal right to retaliate”.
The case, which was heard in 2014, overturned the 2011 ruling.
My son was sentenced to death by the sword, but this would not be carried out immediately because a child from the Yemeni family was involved.
He had to be 18 to have a say on the execution of his father’s killer, I was later told.
There was also the “diya” or “blood money” option – financial compensation under Islamic law – which is paid to the victim or heirs of a victim in the cases of murder, bodily harm or property destruction by mistake.
It is an alternative punishment to “qisas ” (equal retaliation), according to search results from Google.
For the longest time, this option, which is mostly practised in Iran, Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates, was not open to my son, with the victim’s family insisting on their right to retaliate.
I remember the day 10 years ago when Kenya’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs on Harambee Avenue, Nairobi, called me to collect the execution verdict that had just been relayed from Saudi Arabia. It threw me in a spin.
I pleaded to be linked up with my son and with the bereaved family to offer my condolences and an unreserved apology to the widow.
It was not to be. I was advised that the widow was still in mourning and my appearance would only harden her stance and resolve for my son’s execution.
However, the victim’s family can also choose to negotiate with the guilty party.
As stated above, the family was not open to this option, insisting on “retaliation”.
But I was not alone. My leadership at Presbyterian Church of East Africa (PCEA) St Andrew’s intervened to escalate Stevo’s case to the highest office in the land.
Though I was to learn that secular powers have no say in matters Shariah, I kept praying.
I clung to the hope that something would give and Stevo, as family and friends fondly call him, would return home.
This happened a few years ago under an officer at our embassy in Riyadh, who was holding fort for the ambassador.
I can understand the widow’s rejection of monetary compensation for her husband. No amount of money can compensate for life – any life.
Negotiations, which for the emissaries from the embassy, were like walking on eggshells, eventually made the widow amenable to settling for diya.
Although the widow opened the way for diya negotiations, it was not a smooth ride for her, with the family split over her decision.
Some supported her, while others insisted on “retaliation” – meaning Stevo had to be killed.
Eventually, and with persistent government follow-up, the victim’s family settled for diya – a concession we do not take for granted, seeing a life was lost and the family still grieves.
The diya option, too, has not been a walk in the park.
In my persistent follow-up with the Ministry of Foreign and Diaspora Affairs on the status of Stevo’s case, the latest update is that they have managed to reduce it from the initial demand of 10 million Saudi Arabia Riyals (SAR) to SAR3.5 million.
My son, who is in regular communication with me (inmates can call their relatives through the kind facilitation of the Saudi authorities although the relatives cannot call back), says blood money of SAR5 million to 10 million is common, and wealthy Saudi nationals raise it overnight!
With one million Kenyans paying just Sh150 each, Stevo could rejoin his family in a day. Sh150 million is not money we, a family of humble means, can produce in my lifetime.
Although communication from the ministry is that notwithstanding the deadline, they are still negotiating to have the amount reduced, we are bound by the deadline and struggling to raise it.
We have come a long way from the time execution was the only option for Stevo, who has spent 13 years of his prime life in different Saudi prisons.
We continue to pray that Kenyans – and other people of goodwill – come forward to help us secure Stevo’s release.
We are deeply grateful for the Diaspora community in Saudi Arabia, who – long before the diya was ratified in court – raised SAR59,000 (about Sh2.2 million) towards Stevo’s release in one evening.
Family and friends have so far raised about Sh300,000. We are also eternally grateful for the inter-governmental efforts at lessening our burden.
I can confess that with execution as the only option after the victim’s family staked their claim to their “reciprocal right to retaliate”, I felt cornered and helpless.
That is not a situation you want to bombard friends with, especially knowing they are more helpless than you in the matter.
It was imperative to have the bereaved family step back on their right to revenge if we were to have Stevo back.
We thank God for the efforts of the Government of Kenya and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia – whose help in negotiating with the victim’s family to step back on their right to retaliate – has been crucial.
The task that lies ahead is daunting, but having Stevo alive is a miracle and we continue to ask for any support that can secure his release and restoration to his motherland.
Ms Kweyu is a freelance writer and editor, a contributor to Nation publications, and the mother of Stephen Bertrand Munyakho, an inmate at Shimeisi Prison in the Governorate of Mecca, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. [email protected]
