The Columbus Dispatch

UAE out-of-wedlock babies still in shadows

Unable to obtain birth certificates, women raise children in secret

- Isabel Debre ASSOCIATED PRESS KAMRAN JEBREILI/AP

SHARJAH, United Arab Emirates – Over a dozen unmarried women huddled in a jail cell south of Dubai last year, locked up for the crime of giving birth, when a guard entered and declared them free.

The incident, described by one of the women, was among the first concrete signs that the United Arab Emirates had decriminal­ized premarital sex in an overhaul of its Islamic penal code.

But a year later, these unwed mothers remain trapped in limbo, fighting to obtain birth certificates for babies born in the shadows.

A new law that comes into effect in two weeks still does not offer unmarried women a clear path to acquiring birth certificates for their babies. At the same time, the law criminaliz­es women lacking such documents.

Although unwed mothers no longer face jail after the UAE legalized premarital sex in November 2020, they now face a maze of red tape.

Obtaining birth certificates for their babies is a costly process that the country’s poorest residents – foreign workers who clean offices, serve food and care for the children of other mothers – cannot afford. Expats outnumber locals by nearly nine to one in the Emirates.

“We were so full of hope,” said Star, one of those released from Sharjah Central Jail in December 2020 with her 3month-old daughter. “Then came trouble I didn’t think I’d have the strength to get through.”

Star gave only her first name for fear of reprisals. She and six other unmarried women, most of them Filipinas, described their legal battles to The Associated Press.

Before last year’s law change, several had given birth at hospitals, where health authoritie­s denied them birth certificates and called the police. Others withdrew to their shared apartments, scared and alone, to have their babies.

In the UAE, hospitals issue birth certificates only to married parents. Without the certificates, children are unable to receive medical care, attend school or travel. Their mothers, who lost work and residency during prosecutio­n under the old law, become stranded. The number of undocument­ed children in the UAE is not known.

Lawyers say the obstacles stem from an enduring conservati­ve mindset and lack of government coordinati­on.

Some women even yearn for the previous punishment, typically one-year detention and deportatio­n. While terrifying, it at least guaranteed a flight home and identity documents for their children.

“It has only gotten harder since the law changed,” said 25-year-old mother Sitte Honey. “They won’t take you to jail and they don’t want you to give birth,” she added, noting abortion is also forbidden. “We’re stuck.”

Dirar Belhoul Al Falasi, a member of the UAE’S advisory Federal National Council, argued last year’s decriminal­ization had an impact.

“Prior to this, there was nothing in my hand to legalize what they have,” he told the AP. “But now, there is a law … that we can help them with.”

Under a new law that comes into force on Jan. 2, parents who fail to document their children face a minimum of two years in prison. It makes no reference to health authoritie­s issuing birth certificates to single mothers. The law demands that parents marry or acquire travel documents and other paperwork to prove their children’s identities, without detailing how.

That has stoked panic among unmarried mothers who fear further punishment.

Last year, as lawyers scrambled to understand the opaque legal code, women like Star walked out of jail across the country. Conditions at the facilities varied and in some, mothers were separated from their children.

Star said her daughter was taken from her during detention. She said 15 women shared a single bathroom, subsisted on only rice and bread and were let out 30 minutes each day for fresh air. Other women described police interrogat­ions about their sexual history as deeply humiliatin­g.

But after these women were freed, they still couldn’t get the one thing they wanted most: identity documents.

Maya, a 36-year-old mother, turned herself into authoritie­s in November 2020 when she heard it would help her get a birth certificate for her 1-year-old. After several torturous weeks in Dubai’s Al Qusais Police Station, authoritie­s became alerted to the law change and freed her. But they never granted legal status to her daughter, forcing her to ricochet from one government office to another in her quest.

“These massive fundamenta­l changes are highly welcome, but so much still needs to catch up,” said Ludmila Yamalova, managing partner of LYLAW, a firm taking on cases of unwed mothers.

“Emotionall­y and mentally, people are not prepared to accept the law as reality,” she added, referring to health and law enforcemen­t agencies.

Women continue to raise undocument­ed children in secret. Noraida Gamama, desperate to document her 3year-old daughter, has plastered the door of her Sharjah apartment with signs warning her half-dozen roommates to check the peephole before answering to ensure it’s not a government official.

Living on expired visas and struggling to feed infants on wisps of income, many can’t afford court fees and lawyers’ bills. It costs over $350 to open a birth certificate petition case independen­tly at Dubai’s Family Court.

Ann, 36, works multiple part-time jobs, sleeping a few hours a night, to feed her undocument­ed 2-year-old girl. She recounted the agony of delivering her on the floor of a rented Dubai room. “All I want is to give her a name, to bring her back to the Philippine­s where she could live a better life,” Ann said.

Still, a growing number of women are taking their cases to court, with mixed success. A clerk at one Dubai court said the system handled over 50 “baby cases” daily.

When Honey discovered she was pregnant with her boyfriend’s child two years ago, she appealed to the Philippine Consulate to send her home. But while waiting for help that never came, baby Naya was born in her tiny apartment.

Lacking legal status after fleeing abusive employers who confiscated her passport, Honey has grown desperate to get out of Dubai. But authoritie­s cannot repatriate her until Naya gets papers.

 ?? ?? Noraida Gamama holds the hand of her undocument­ed daughter Aliha, 3, at their small apartment shared with six others in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates. Unmarried, she gave birth in secret at home and is now struggling to figure out how to document Aliha, who cannot travel, enroll in school or go to a public hospital without a birth certificate.
Noraida Gamama holds the hand of her undocument­ed daughter Aliha, 3, at their small apartment shared with six others in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates. Unmarried, she gave birth in secret at home and is now struggling to figure out how to document Aliha, who cannot travel, enroll in school or go to a public hospital without a birth certificate.

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