Monday, May 6, 2019

The Huduma Number Fiasco


You can obviously tell that I'm already peeved about this Huduma Number registration exercise. Just the manner in which it has been rolled out amid mystery and mistrust, and the immediate threats that have followed is an immediate cause for concern. However, before you go on to condemn me as some unpatriotic critic whose only intent is to curtail development, let me give you some reference for my misgivings.

Let's take it back to my medical internship, circa mid 2014. The government had suddenly become overwhelmed by its "ghost worker" problem, so they had decided that they would conduct a biometric registration program of its civil servants to fix the issue. So summarily, they decide that within a small window of time (~2 weeks in my recollection), all civil servants would have to be registered, or run the threat of not getting their salaries.

In my mind I'm thinking "what the hell is this?" I had been posted to Kisii Hospital in May that year, reported on June 1st, received my paperwork that I needed to present to the Ministry of Health (at Afya House) on June 2nd; after making all the submission of the required data, I had reported back to my work station on June 8th and started working. So they basically had all my fresh data,  but now we were going to add biometrics. Well, when threats abound, you just make your peace with the situation and try to find time in your schedule for such things.

This registration turned out to be a little tricky. The hospital served as a registration centre for some days (not given out in advance), then there was the functionality of the biometric registration kits (questionable), and the speed of the exercise. I remember that the most convenient time for me to register fell on the morning right after I had been on the night shift during my surgical rotation; hence, I made up my mind to show up for the registration early the next morning before I departed for home. Morning rolls in and I get down to the designated area (close to the cafeteria), and I find a large line has formed. There are some clinical and other hospital staff in the queue, but, surprisingly, the bulk of the people in line are other county workers from Lord knows where.

The registration workers arrive and the exercise starts. It moves slowly: only 2 of the 3 biometric registration kits are working. Then the usual tomfoolery ensues with grown men and women just cutting in line or being mysteriously moved ahead of others unceremoniously. By 12pm, I still wasn't any closer to being registered, and I was basically running on fumes from a busy night shift. I cut my losses and decided to head on home, and try my luck on a different day. The rest of the day turned out to be a similar nightmare: lights went out, meaning I couldn't charge my phone which also dabbled as my alarm; I thus overslept past my reporting time of 8pm, waking up to multiple missed calls from fellow interns once I eventually plugged in and charged my phone. (In retrospect, this might be one of the reasons that I had supplementary weeks added to my surgical rotation).

I eventually had to get myself registered at the county offices some time later (as usual, the date for the exercise had had to be extended), and life went on as it should...but I was pretty sure that the ghost worker issue would rear its ugly head again

All of a sudden, in 2019, we apparently have ghost workers in the Police Force. I'm not exactly sure if Police count as civil servants, and neither am I sure whether they were expected to be registered during that last (eventful) program of 2014, which was of course run under this same Jubilee Administration. This all boils down to the same thing: we have a mediocre set of systems that have been set up to manage us. A proper management system would register employees, make regular updates to cater for changes in their status/upgrades, and lastly account for attrition in the work force, occurring through resignation, dismissal or retirement. The fact that we have ghost workers masquerading in the system merely means that the system is not being regularly updated (to weed out past employees), or someone with a higher level clearance is introducing bogus data into the system. Needless to say, the majority of the good hardworking people will suffer for problems originating from levels that are "way above our pay grades."

So now we have the Huduma Number, our Saviour-du-jour. As with all things of this generation, we are first reminded that it is digital and biometric; in addition, it is meant to bring together all disparate data and numbers that are essentially tied to each Kenyan, and basically make life easier. This isn't really anything new. I remember that some time before the most recent elections, some government spokesperson had shown up on TV and spoken of the need for a new card (and number) to oversee our other numbers. And even then I had still thought it was a ridiculous idea.


I actually managed to get my hands on one of the forms in advance, and I was able to start filling it out, but the only details I was missing were the expiry date of my passport and my driving license number. Looking at the form is simply infuriating because it just makes you realize that you've already filled in these details on multiple prior occasions when registering for your NSSF, NHIF, KRA and even driving license. And here's the kicker: you needed your ID card to register for all those other cards!

Anyway, filling out the form was easy enough, with the exception of these administrative divisions (county, sub-county et al.) which are pretty much a foreign concept to me. After it's all filled out, you have to sit and wait in line for your turn to be registered using the biometric capturing kits. Fortunately, I was being registered at my place of work and did not have to face the prospect of standing in a ridiculously long queue. Understand that the time it's taking for people to be registered is more along the average mark of 15 minutes, and there are some outliers that are even exceeding 30 minutes. That means that for every 4 people ahead of you in line, you should expect to wait about 1 hour if only one registration officer is working, or 30 minutes if you have 2 registration officers on duty. And that's hoping that the machines work the way they are supposed to! Rumours abound of the biometric kits being unable to capture biometric data if their battery charge dips below the 40% mark. Forget about that ease of registration display they show you when they register the President and other high ranking politicians. That is the demo version. You, on the other hand, are guaranteed to have a more tedious and nerve-racking time when you settle down for the process.

However, since this is Kenya, more frustration abounds when people fail to show common courtesy. How on earth do people grow up to be full blown adults and never ever learn to queue properly? People are already on edge because of the length of time the whole process takes, and the usual bunch of hiccups that ensue. Nothing grates the nerves more than seeing someone mosey up to the front of the line like they're entitled royalty. At our registration centre, someone had the foresight to draw up a register to keep track of people's order of arrival. This came in handy because we ended up switching to a larger room, and that kept things from devolving into free-for-all chaos.

The process itself merely consists of having everything transferred from the form to the Biometric kit, having your picture and finger prints taken, and also having pictures taken of some of the documents that you bring along with you. I think it only took 10 minutes to have my stuff over and done with. I can attest that my registration officer was a pretty stand-up guy...but then they did show up at 8.30 am instead of the previously stated 7.00 am.

Anyway, I have a little acknowledgment slip as proof that I've actually gone through the process. It still doesn't change my misgiving about the whole process. I don't really think this will improve anything. Sure there's all that talk of improved service delivery and rooting out ghost workers, but if this was something that was meant to be taken seriously they'd have started out with some civic education. Some people might try to explain it as the Kenyan citizenry being propelled into the future with a new digital number; this will basically save us the hustle of needing a whole bunch of other cards and numbers that are currently part and parcel of our daily lives. In theory, that would seem intelligent...if it weren't for the fact that our ID cards are already a key field item: they are basically the singular item tying us to our passports, KRA pins, NSSF and NHIF cards, and even our driving licenses. Someone may argue that the IDs may not be digital, but then the simpler solution would be for them to issue a New Generation ID card, and make sure that this time it is machine-readable. (the last generation ID card already included capturing of biometric parameters).

The common mwananchi is even more confused about what this new number will be able to do. Thanks to threats from government allied officials, people basically think that they won't be able to get bank cards, or perhaps that they may lose their cell phone numbers, or that they won't be able to register for things like passports (my personal fear). Sometimes in this country, unfounded fears can be something you should really consider seriously. I'm just thinking of the government clerks who will unduly frustrate people using this Huduma number as some sort of sifting criteria. These Hudumu Number cards won't even be ready for the next foreseeable couple of months (at least 3 - 6), and we will still need to use our IDs for most things, but one should never assume government offices are places where sound reason abides.

It's business as usual in this country. We haven't even passed legislation that's guaranteed to protect our data and honour our privacy. The politicians wrongly think that this matter is handled with as much carelessness as they form their political vehicles of the day: come up with the party first, then eventually tack some sort of manifesto and meaning much later on. Too much politics and tenderpreneurship has seen us sacrifice the soul of this nation for the vested interest of a few individuals. Politicians the world over are more likely to implement something new (affording them the chance to attend lavish ceremonies with ribbon-cutting theatrics) rather than retooling or fixing an old FUNCTIONAL system. The wisdom of the old saying still stands:

It is better to measure ten times and cut once than to measure once and cut 10 times

Any sort of critical thinking would convince anyone that this operation is half-baked; why else would they need to resort to the lowest form of manipulation  - intimidation - to get this pushed through? Kenyans are not an abrasive bunch of folk who merely routinely oppose the government for kicks - we can be reasoned with. The courts have tried to protect us from this hasty government decree, but this current government is renowned for ignoring court orders and bulldozing their way forward. The likelihood is that reason and justice will not prevail here.

However, there just might be some light at the end of the tunnel. I believe that the veracity of the data can be maintained beyond this exercise. This Huduma Number can eventually be written out of our collective consciousness, and we can get the ideal ID card we've been longing for. Fundamental to all this would be the fact that we build up a foundation of institutions and systems of integrity that will safeguard the dignity of the people of Kenya, and root out all the "conflict of interest" that is sucking our lifeblood dry. The land and people of Kenya will outlive the prevailing politics and trends of the day, and thus, we owe them something congruent to that. The glow and trappings of new technology will not be our saviour: a culture of integrity and respect for justice is all we really need, and something we will eventually get.

God Bless

 

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