“By God's grace, [if] anything happens to me, somebody will help me, as how I am helping others.” — Wahid Khan Habibula, Cargo Agent
REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK: Kelly McEvers
I spent a month in Saudi Arabia. During that time, I was a kind of foreign worker — like millions of men and women who come to the kingdom from Asia, Africa, Europe, the U.S. and the Middle East. I'm sure their families and friends are curious about what it's like to work in such a strict and closed society. Mine are, too.
Most people I know back home think there are lists of rules posted all over Saudi Arabia, telling you what to do, what not to do, what to wear. Granted, Saudi is a strict place: Unrelated men and women can't mix. Women can't drive and are required to cover their bodies in black gowns called abayas. Yet it's also a place of contradictions and surprises.
This story brought me to Jeddah, in the western part of the country. It's one of the most open cities in Saudi. That's because Jeddah is the gateway to the holy city of Mecca, less than an hour away. For more than 1,400 years, Muslims have been coming here from every corner of the world. With them they bring their customs, food, and ideas.
And their consulates. That's where I started, on my hunt for a cargo agent who handles what diplomats call human remains cases. These cases appear when a non-Muslim foreign worker happens to die in Saudi Arabia, and by law, the body cannot be buried in the kingdom. It must be shipped home.
I visited the consulates of India, Pakistan, and the Philippines — the three countries with the largest numbers of workers in Saudi Arabia. Each one told me the same thing. The guy you want to meet is Mohammad Salim. He's been doing human-remains work for 15 years. He knows the business inside and out.
International Labor Standards on Migrant Workers
Migrant Watch (advocacy group)
And, they said, there's another guy. But he's more of an upstart. He's only been at it for a few years. His name is Wahid Khan Habibula.
I arranged to meet them both. I was fascinated by their rivalry, by the idea that one was working in the shadow of another — and that they came from Pakistan and India, two geopolitical rivals.
Salim, the elder of the two, from Pakistan, has his own business. He is dignified, precise — a pro. It takes him only three days to get the official signatures and documents required — police report, death certificate, medical report, coroner's report — to ship a body out of Saudi Arabia. For this service he charges a hefty fee.
Khan, the younger, from India, works for a larger cargo company, not on commission. He's less shrewd about the human-remains business. If this is what God wants me to do, he says, I must do it.
I knew that Khan would be the main focus of our story. Our first day together, he took me to the morgue. With every case, he's required to view the body and make sure it matches the photograph on the deceased's ID card.
