A scathing chronicle of Safaricom's repeated failures in protecting customer data, from massive breaches to internal fraud. Despite token efforts at improvement, the company's track record remains a slap in the face to every Kenyan who trusted them.
For years, Safaricom has paraded itself as Kenya’s crown jewel of telecommunication, a beacon of innovation and trustworthiness. But behind the glossy ads and empty slogans lies a dark history of betrayal, negligence, and blatant disregard for customer privacy. This exposé rips away the corporate veneer to reveal a company that has repeatedly failed its customers, treating our personal data with all the care of a toddler handling fine china.
Brace yourselves, fellow Kenyans, for a journey through Safaricom’s hall of shame. This isn’t just another corporate scandal – it’s a chronicle of digital tyranny that affects every single one of us.
In June 2019, Safaricom committed an act of digital treason against 11.5 million Kenyans. Let that number sink in. 11.5 MILLION! That’s nearly a quarter of our population, their personal information treated like garbage, tossed to the wind for any vulture to pick at.
Think about the implications. Your gambling habits, your personal details - all laid bare. Marriages strained, reputations ruined, financial secrets exposed. And for what? Safaricom’s gross negligence and apparent disregard for our privacy.
When whistleblower Benedict Kabugi had the guts to file a lawsuit, did Safaricom show remorse? Did they fall on their knees begging for forgiveness? No! They hid behind lawyers and PR spin, treating us like fools who’d forget their monumental failure.
Kabugi’s lawsuit accused Safaricom of:
And how did Safaricom respond? With denials and obfuscation. They even had the gall to question how Kabugi obtained the information, as if he was the criminal in this digital crime scene!
This wasn’t just a local scandal. The breach drew international attention, with potential lawsuits looming in Paris and London under GDPR compliance. Safaricom’s failure wasn’t just embarrassing – it put Kenya’s reputation as a rising tech hub at risk.
While Safaricom faced reputational damage and customer outrage, their response was tepid at best:
This wasn’t just a “whoops, our bad” moment. This was a catastrophic betrayal that should have ended Safaricom’s reign of digital dominance. But no, we forgave. We forgot. And they learned that they could get away with trampling on our rights.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, 2021 revealed that the cancer of corruption had metastasized throughout Safaricom’s entire organization. Their own employees, the very people sworn to protect our data, were selling us out for a quick shilling.
These aren’t just statistics; these are acts of treachery. Unauthorized access to our data, policy violations, SIM swap frauds - it’s a laundry list of digital crimes committed against us by the very people we were told to trust.
Let’s break down the types of fraud uncovered:
To their credit, Safaricom didn’t completely ignore the problem. But let’s look at their so-called solutions:
While these steps are better than nothing, they’re like using a band-aid to treat a gunshot wound. The fact remains that this level of internal corruption occurred in the first place, pointing to a systemic failure in Safaricom’s corporate culture and security practices.
As if internal breaches weren’t enough, a 2021 survey exposed Safaricom’s participation in a despicable data trade. They were caught red-handed, sharing our information with third-party vultures without so much as a by-your-leave.
This isn’t just a violation of privacy; it’s digital human trafficking!
Every call you made, every text you sent, every time you used M-PESA - Safaricom was potentially auctioning off your data to the highest bidder. Your personal information, your habits, your life - all up for grabs in Safaricom’s black market bazaar.
What kind of data was at risk?
This unauthorized data sharing led to:
The Kenyan government, finally waking up to the severity of the situation, introduced stricter data protection rules. But let’s not pat them on the back just yet. These regulations were reactive, not proactive, coming only after millions of Kenyans had their privacy violated.
Safaricom’s response? Vague promises to enhance data protection measures. Once again, too little, too late.
Looking at these incidents, a clear pattern emerges:
This cycle of betrayal has been ongoing for years, with each incident seemingly worse than the last. Safaricom has shown time and again that they view our data not as a sacred trust, but as a resource to be exploited.
While Safaricom counts its profits, let’s count the real cost of their actions:
Kenyans, it’s time to wake up and smell the digital deception. Safaricom has been playing us for fools for years. Their recent actions aren’t anomalies - they’re the inevitable result of a company that has consistently chosen profit over people, greed over ethics, and corporate interests over national loyalty.
This stops now. We will not be silent. We will not forget. And we certainly will not forgive.
Your time is up. Your years of betrayal, your digital deceptions, your corporate crimes - they end here. We demand more than just apologies and empty promises. We demand:
It’s time to hit them where it hurts. I call for action:
The age of blind trust is over. Safaricom has shown us time and time again that they don’t deserve our loyalty. It’s time we show them the true cost of betrayal.
Rise up, Kenya. Our data, our privacy, our digital lives - they are not for sale. The revolution starts now, and it begins with holding Safaricom accountable for every single act of betrayal. No more excuses. No more second chances. The time for digital justice is now!
Remember, every call you make, every text you send, every transaction on M-PESA - you’re not just using a service. You’re making a choice. Choose wisely. Choose your privacy. Choose your dignity. Choose a future where our data is respected, not exploited.
The power is in our hands. Let’s use it.