The race to raise blood money to halt an execution
This week, a Kenyan mother, who has tirelessly fought to spare her son from execution in Saudi Arabia, felt immense relief when he received a reprieve.
Stephen Munyakho, aged 50, was slated for execution on Wednesday for the 2011 murder of a Yemeni man. The potential methods of execution included decapitation, hanging, lethal injection, or firing squad, with decapitation being the most common in the kingdom.
However, the suspension of his execution is only provisional, leaving Dorothy Kweyu, aged 73, still uncertain about her son’s fate as Kenya’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs has not provided further details on his case.
This ongoing uncertainty has not alleviated her anxiety, as she continues her efforts to gather the “diyah” or blood money required for a pardon under Sharia law, which governs Saudi Arabia’s judicial system for both criminal and civil matters.
Despite her efforts, the public appeal has only managed to raise less than 5% of the necessary $1 million (£790,000). Dorothy Kweyu, a respected journalist in Kenya, remains hopeful that more time will be granted to raise the required funds, potentially through negotiations conducted by Kenyan government officials on her behalf.
In announcing the delay of the execution on Monday, Korir Sing’Oei, a senior official in the foreign ministry, indicated that negotiators were exploring strategies to reach a more favorable resolution, aiming to provide closure to both families involved.
Mr Munyakho, known as Stevo to his friends and family, went to work in Saudi Arabia in his early 20s and 13 years ago was a warehouse manager at a Red Sea tourist resort.
According to Ms Kweyu, her son got into a dispute with a colleague, who she said stabbed Stevo with a letter opener.
Stevo retaliated by grabbing the letter opener and attacking his workmate, leading to his death.
“Initially, my son was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to five years in jail,” she told the BBC.
“We expected him to be inside for two-and-a-half years, by international norms – but it was not to be.”
But an appeal was heard in 2014 that changed the sentence.
“The court ordered that my son face capital punishment, which would have meant the death sentence,” Ms Kweyu said.
“Later on, however, the family of the deceased was convinced by a Kenyan delegation in Saudi to take the diya offer of blood money.”
But the negotiations have proved long and difficult – and raising the money for Stevo, who has three children, has not been easy.
A court had set 15 May as the deadline for the blood money to be paid.
“One day I asked: ‘Is there a way we can exchange so that they execute me instead of Steve my son?’ But I was rebuked and told to stop talking like that,” Ms Kweyu said.
Under Islamic law, diyah compensates a victim or their family. It can be paid for a variety of crimes from murder to injury and damage to property.
It can lead to a reduction in sentence and in certain circumstances a pardon. It is currently applied in about 20 countries in the Middle East and Africa, including Sudan and northern Nigeria.
The Quran, the Muslim holy book, supports the paying of blood money – and this was further clarified by the Prophet Muhammad, who explained in his teachings that the price for murder or manslaughter should be 100 camels.
Modern interpretations mean this amount differs in different countries as diyah is now usually paid in cash.
“In Saudi Arabia, one camel is on average 30,000 Saudi riyals [$8,000, £6,300] thus if anybody is going to pay for the life of someone, they have to pay at least $80,000,” Nigerian Islamic scholar Sheikh Husseini Zakaria told the BBC.
Other factors, such as a victim’s gender and religious background, can also determine the amount of blood money demanded. It also needs the agreement of the victim or their family.
Ms Kweyu says she was first asked to pay about $2.6m, but successfully negotiated it down to $950,000.
It is unclear if Stevo has changed his religion while in prison. In Mr Sing’Oei’s statement, posted on X (formerly Twitter), he noted that Stephen Munyakho was now known as “Abdulkareem”.
The name change was news to his family, who are able to occasionally communicate with him when he phones them from prison.
It has been hard for his children. His youngest, 23-year-old Evans Mwanze, has not seen him for more than 20 years.
“There are times I am hopeful that my dad will come home,” he told me.
“Other times I get discouraged and wonder if the worst may happen. I never got to know my dad. He left when I was three and that was the last I saw of him.”
Ms Kweyu says the prospect of beheading is all too real. Last year, there were 172 executions in Saudi Arabia, according to figures released by the authorities.
“There was a day my son called me and told me that one of his friends had been beheaded. That was such a dark moment.”
The Saudi authorities have not responded to BBC requests for comment, but the Kenyan government has been effusive in its thanks for their help in this case.
“We shall continue to lean on the warm and solid friendship that we have with our Saudi partners,” Mr Sing’Oei said, promising further negotiations would happen in the coming days.
“We shall be engaging stakeholders in Nairobi and Riyadh, including representations from our religious leadership, to agree on the next urgent step.”
