If you’re a Kenyan who hasn’t yet been abducted, don’t worry, Safaricom is working hard to fix that. In a country where enforced disappearances have become as common as M-PESA fraud, Safaricom has emerged as the unlikeliest of villains: the telecom giant that freely hands over your data to security agencies, turning your smartphone into a digital leash. Justin Muturi, a seasoned politician, lawyer, and former member of the security committee, recently dropped a bombshell: Safaricom is not just a service provider but an active accomplice in state sponsored abductions. And if a man who once sat at the heart of Kenya’s security apparatus is sounding the alarm, then the rest of us should be running for the hills, or at least ditching our Safaricom lines.
Safaricom’s PR team has been working overtime, churning out statements that sound like they were written by a chatbot trained on legal jargon and corporate doublespeak. “We respect customer privacy,” they say. “We only share data with a court order,” they claim. Yet, somehow, abducted Kenyans keep turning up dead, their last known locations conveniently traced via their phones. In their October 2024 position statement, Safaricom claimed that they adhere to data protection laws, even flaunting an ISO 27701 certification as if it were a Get Out of Jail Free card. But certifications don’t bring back the disappeared. And while Safaricom insists that Call Data Records (CDRs) don’t show live locations, activists and victims’ families know better. The company’s cozy relationship with Neural Technologies, a firm that provides predictive profiling software, suggests that Safaricom isn’t just handing over data, it’s helping security agencies hunt Kenyans like prey.
Take the recent case of Albert Ojwang, who was abducted and later found dead. Opposition leaders pointed fingers at Safaricom, accusing the company of providing real-time tracking data to security agencies. Safaricom’s response? A classic “We know nothing” defense. CEO Peter Ndegwa claimed they only learned of Ojwang’s arrest through the media, a laughable assertion for a company that tracks every call, text, and mobile transaction. Meanwhile, the Communications Authority (CA), supposedly the regulator, chimed in with its own carefully crafted denial, stating it doesn’t have access to real-time data. Convenient, isn’t it? The very institution meant to oversee data privacy is either willfully ignorant or complicit in the cover-up.
The evidence against Safaricom isn’t just circumstantial. In November 2024, the Kenya Human Rights Commission (KHRC) and Muslims for Human Rights (MUHURI) published a damning open letter, accusing Safaricom of routinely handing over CDRs to police without court orders, allowing security agents to manipulate data, meaning they could erase evidence of abductions before families even filed missing person reports, and developing software with Neural Technologies that lets security agencies profile and track citizens preemptively, essentially creating a Kenyans Most Wanted list generated by an algorithm. Safaricom’s response? A vague, non-denial denial, ignoring the most explosive allegations. If that’s not an admission of guilt, what is?
Even lawmakers are worried. When Senator Eddy Oketch raised the issue in Parliament, Safaricom was forced into damage control mode. Senator Samson Cherargei didn’t hold back, calling Safaricom’s actions “illegal and unconstitutional.” Yet, despite the public outcry, Safaricom continues to operate like a parallel government, unbothered by laws or human rights. This isn’t the first time Safaricom has been caught with its hands in the data cookie jar. Remember the $1 trillion lawsuit for leaking 11.5 million users’ gambling data, full names, ID numbers, and even passport details? Or the ODPC ruling where Safaricom was fined for illegally processing an ex-employee’s data without consent? Yet, Safaricom still has the audacity to claim it “values customer privacy.” The only thing they value is profit, even if it’s blood money.
Safaricom has betrayed Kenyans. It is no longer just a telecom company; it is a surveillance arm of the state, a digital Judas selling out its users for government favor. If Justin Muturi, a man who knows the system inside out, is warning us, then we must act. Switch to Airtel? Maybe. Go back to smoke signals? At least those can’t be tracked. However, one thing is clear: every shilling you pay to Safaricom is funding your own potential abduction. Kenyans deserve better. It’s time to #DropSafaricom before it’s too late.
The company’s blatant disregard for privacy isn’t just a legal issue; it’s a moral one. How many more Kenyans must vanish before Safaricom is held accountable? How many more families must suffer while the telecom giant profits from their pain? The government’s silence is deafening, and Safaricom’s denials are growing thinner by the day. The truth is out there, buried in the data they so freely hand over to the very people disappearing citizens in broad daylight.
This isn’t just about privacy; it’s about survival. In a country where the line between security and oppression is increasingly blurred, Safaricom has chosen its side, and it’s not on the side of the people. The time for empty assurances is over. The time for action is now. Boycott Safaricom. Demand accountability. Because if we don’t, who will? The next person abducted could be you, and Safaricom will have already handed over the keys to your digital prison. Kenyans, wake up. Your phone is no longer just a phone; it’s a tracking device, and Safaricom is the one holding the leash.
#DropSafaricom
#DataPrivacyBetrayal
#EndStateSurveillance
