Kweyu: Why I can't wait to see my son after 14 years of heartbreak and hope

Dorothy Kweyu,the mother of Stephen Munyakho, during an interview with The standard on March 29,2025. [Benard Orwongo, Standard] Her hands clasped close to her heart, eyes tilting towards the sky-perhaps in gratitude to God-Dorothy Kweyu struggled to comprehend how she would receive her son, Stephen Munyakho, alias Stevo, who was sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia 14 years ago. The anticipation weighed heavily on her, a mix of hope and nostalgia flooding her mind-how she would welcome him, the memories of his childhood and teenage years, and the deep mother-child bond they once shared. Munyakho, who turned 51 about a month ago, was imprisoned in Saudi Arabia after a Sharia court found him guilty of murdering a colleague following an altercation at work. "I am still in a daze," Kweyu told The Sunday Standard in an exclusive interview on Saturday, just days after learning that her son is set to be released from Dhahban Central Prison, where he has spent the past 14 years. Kweyu, who had endured decades of frustration and uncertainty, now opened up, overwhelmed with joy. She reflected on the love that had inspired her to name her firstborn after his maternal uncle-"who loved me so much. I still remember him. I can still see him cycling with his hands off the handlebars. He was full of life, you know-he was a footballer." "As much as he was baptized Stephen, Thibault is short for Stephen. But to me, the name meant more than just the great saint, the first Christian martyr," she explained. She went on to share how Stevo became a dear companion to his maternal grandmother, a bond rooted in the close relationship she had with his uncle, with whom she had grown up like siblings-referring to each other as Ndugu (brother). Their bond was so strong that when news of his grandmother's passing reached him in prison in November 2023, "Stevo was devastated. He will deeply miss their jokes." Be productive According to the veteran journalist, her son left for Saudi Arabia on March 31, 1996, after his uncle, who was already working there, invited him to join him and earn money to further his studies. "I allowed him to go because his uncle was already working there, and instead of just sitting and waiting, he could do something productive. As a mother, I thought, 'This is a good opportunity-you can save some money and then study abroad.' In fact, we had the UK and the US in mind," she recalled. "It's still a mystery to me why it took so long before he pursued his studies," she said, adding, "Perhaps he cared more about home." She revealed that during one of his visits back to Kenya, he got engaged to a woman, eventually starting a family. Munyakho was a dependable person, she said, as he regularly shared his earnings with the family. But tragedy struck in 2011 when he was jailed, plunging her and the family into heartbreak and a relentless pursuit of justice. "I went through countless moments of helplessness... The child of my womb, sentenced to execution-that was a living nightmare for me," she said, her voice trembling as she recalled their deep bond. "He had just turned 22 when he left. We were very close." "To say that the last 13 years have been traumatic is an understatement. There were nights he would call at 4am and say, Leo tuko kwa giza (Tonight, we are in darkness). At first, I thought he meant a blackout, but he explained that it meant someone had been executed. That was terrifying-knowing that one day, giza might be on him," she shared. "I don't even know how I will receive Stevo... For the longest time, to me, he was as good as dead. The victim's family in Yemen refused to engage in talks. It took four years from his sentencing to even begin negotiations, and another five years to finally reach an agreement," she said. Extreme tension Reflecting on the ordeal, she added, "It was a period of extreme tension for me. I lost weight; food would get stuck in my throat. It was unbearable. Everyone noticed-I only ate the bare minimum to survive." And since the news of breakthrough is now imminent, with the family anxious to reunite with their kin. According to the Bring Back Stevo Campaign Strategy Committee, the process of securing his release is in motion. The final blood money payment of 3.5 million Saudi Riyals has been settled, thanks to the intervention of the Muslim World League. The long-awaited homecoming of Stevo is now a matter of legal formalities. The campaign to bring him home saw an outpouring of support from different quarters. From letters to Pope Francis and President William Ruto to diplomatic interventions from the Kenyan Embassy in Saudi Arabia, the movement gained momentum. Over 19 million Kenyan shillings were raised, primarily through the generosity of ordinary Kenyans who had never met Stevo but were moved by his plight. Even with the payment secured, the mother understands that legal processes take time. "Of course, I wish I could have had him home as early as yesterday-or even in 2011 when all this began. But we have to be realistic. The wheels of justice grind slowly," she said. Cyprian Makalu, Stevo's younger brother, said the family's focus has now shifted to reintegration. "This is someone who has been away from the country for nearly 20 years. He left while working, but he's coming back without a job. Beyond the celebration, we have to think about how to help him rebuild and reintegrate into the community," he said. He added, "Kenyans continued sending funds even after we had reached the full amount. That money will now help him start over." Despite the long and painful years, their mother remains grateful for every moment that has led to this point. "There were times when communication was nearly impossible. Now, I am the only one in Kenya who can talk to him. If we miss his call, he has to wait an entire week to try again. But at least we can talk. And soon, I will finally see my son again," she said. However, the family is still in dilemma over when they will see their kin as authorities are racing to process his release. "My worry is how long it will take to process his release, but the wheels of justice grinds slowly. I dare not give up...I will continue waiting in hope and more so now that there's little impediment," said Stevo's mother, Kweyu. A mother's joy: Why I can't wait to see my son 20, years later, mother of Stevo, a Kenyan sentenced to death in Saudi, speaks.

Kweyu: Why I can't wait to see my son after 14 years of heartbreak and hope

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