The Elusive Pot of Gold

A F Dawood

The seventeen year old girl was in the death row of the prison, ruminating the fate that had be fallen her. She is from a remote village in Sri Lanka and had come to Saudi Arabia in search of the pot of gold to provide the basic necessities to her family members as her family was plagued with gruelling poverty. Her mind rushed through the corridors of time to the past.

"Nafeeka, do your job well, we wish you all the best in the new country." The parents blessed her. "I'm going to help the home situation; I'll send home money." She said amidst tears. At the airport the parents hugged and kissed their daughter, mingling their tears of sorrow with hers. That was seven years ago.

She was assigned to the house of a millionaire merchant to look after an year old infant-to-feed, clean, mop the floor and wash the baby and the soiled nappies in addition to washing the pots and pans in the kitchen. The seventeen year old housemaid was totally inexperienced in baby care as she had been sent here by the job agent who had managed to obtain her a forged passport indicating her age as twenty-three. Within two months of her service here, destiny turned her fortune to misfortune.

While she was bottle feeding, the infant became suffocated with the milk and died. At that time there was none in the house; she raised cries for a long time before she could attract the attention of the neighbours; finally, when the parents arrived, there was a hullabaloo; they beat the maid and handed over to the police.

The police questioned her in a language she did not understand and she only shook her head in answer. She pleaded her innocence in her language which nobody understood. She told in tears that she did not kill the baby but the baby died because of suffocation. The matter went to the Magistrate Court and the judgement was that she was condemned to death by beheading. It was a tragedy of fact that the girl who went in search of the pot of gold was committed to death by beheading.

For seven years she was in the death row. The country's Head made representation to the sovereignty of the Arab state to redeem her life; but all pleas and petitions failed to warm the cockles of the heart of the Arab rulers. Several western countries and Asian Human Rights Commission pleaded for clemency for the poor, innocent girl but their entreaties fell on deaf ears.

The arrogant Arab authority was keen on executing the 'Sharia' law, an eye for an eye penalty, though the charge of infanticide against her was not proved beyond reasonable doubt. So day in and day out the poor girl was confined within the gloomy walls of the cell invariably for seven long years and very often than not she sank in the revery of nostalgia.

"Mother, I like to work in a Middle East country." "Now can you go to work, Nafeeka? You're still sixteen plus." "But there're ways of going, mother; the agency said they'll help me."

"Now Nafeeka?" "They'll make a false birth certificate to show I'm over eighteen years; but we've to pay about Rs 10,000 for the forged birth certificate." "Where to find that money?" The mother questioned. "You've to pawn your two bangles and chain to get the money." "My bangles and chain?" The mother expressed surprise. "It's worth mother; when I go there, I can send money and you can redeem it." Nafeeka explained. "How much you can earn there for a month?" "About Rs 25,000 to 30,000. This money is enough for us to live comfortably." "Then Nafeeka, what about your schooling?" "What schooling, mother? No frocks, no shoes, no proper meals and father jobless."

"So will you help your brother and two younger sisters in their education?" Her revery was pierced by a female guard's voice and she came around. "Are you ready?" Nafeeka looked up and saw the guard standing outside her cell, holding an apparel. Nafeeka remained silent because she did not hear her properly. "Are you ready?" The guard repeated the question. "To go to my country?" Nafeeka asked in excitement and with a sense of exhilaration. She was aware that several countries have pleaded on her behalf for clemency and thought that she had been pardoned.

The guard shook her head and handed over to her along white gown and disappeared. After a while the guard came and led her to an office where there were male and female officials. One of the female officials asked; "What do you like?" "I like to see my parents." "Today is your last day, Do you know that?" Then a woman prison guard took Nafeeka's hands behind her and handcuffed. "What're you doing to me?" Nafeeka questioned weepingly. "According to 'Sharia' law you're sentenced to death. You killed an infant." "I didn't come here to kill a baby; I came to earn money and help my family." "But the baby died under your care." The baby died of milk block; the cause of death was not certified by a doctor.

The 'Sharia' law had not proved me guilty of the crime." Nafeeka told in between sobs. A male official intervened in the matter. "Why didn't you tell these in the open court?" "The court proceeding was in Arabic. I didn't know what was going on. Moreover there wasn't a lawyer from my country to defend me and there wasn't a translator to tell my version in the court. This was the injustice that happened to me". "We're helpless to do anything," the same male official said. "I'm not frightened to die, but I want to see my parents. Give me that last request" Nafeeka pleaded in tears.

A black cloth was wrapped round her face and then she was marched to an open area where the executioner was awaiting with some police officers. There she was made to sit on a chair for a short time. A female prison officer told her, "Now you can say your prayers or recite any verse from the Quran:" Her sobbing was heard for sometime. Thereafter the hapless girl was made to kneel down and stretch her body forward. In an instant a shimmering, silver sword severed her head; blood spattered; Nafeeka's body slumped in the pool of blood.

(This story is dedicated to Rizana Nafeek, a victim of allegation of infanticide, and all those housemaids who have been tortured, tormented and terrorized in Middle East countries).