55 and yet to get an ID

By Boniface Ongeri and Adow Jubat

For the last 37 years, Ms Habiba Ali Adow has been waiting for her national identity card.

Numerous attempts since 1972 –– when she turned 18 –– to acquire the document have hit a dead end. "I have given up on ever possessing one. I cannot venture out of my own village," the 55-year-old resident of a remote village in Mandera District says.

In 2003, she was referred to Kenyatta National Hospital in Nairobi over an eye condition. But without the ID she could not travel, a situation that rendered her partially blind.

"I fear losing my sight altogether," she says.

There are more than 10 police checks from her village to Nairobi. Those without ID cards are detained and prosecuted. Some are serving jail terms.

Habiba’s predicament is shared by hundreds of her age mates who have waiting cards, some issued in the 1980s. Some have died still waiting to be recognised by their own country. They represent some of those living in North Eastern Province who have to go through gruelling interrogations to become citizens.

Dreams have been shattered and careers brought to a brutal halt.

Shattered dreams

Ordinarily, Hassan Takoy should be excited because of his exemplary performance. He got B- in his Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education examination, a rarity in local standards. But he could not register for college placement because he lacks the vital document.

"They said I am a foreigner", he says. Now he is a herdsman in the expanse of Mandera scrubs after his dream of becoming a psychiatrist were drowned for not having an ID.

"People think a prisoner is one in prison or under house arrest. Those of us with no IDs are no different because our freedom of movement is curtailed as well," Takoy says.

About 46 years after independence, some locals still carry the documents issued by the colonialists. Others have the pink cards issued in 1989 to identify local Somalis. The IDs serve as bitter mementos.

"What is the difference between being colonised and self rule? Though the cards painted us as second class, nonetheless, it was some sort of identification," says Khalif Abdi Farah, the coordinator for Northern Forum for Democracy. Reports say a teenager in NEP faces more hurdles in acquiring an ID than in other parts of the country. In this tail end part of the country, an applicant has to pass through vetting committees. The committees are non-existent in the rest of the country.

"The committees that are based at divisions have to identify the applicant as belonging to the community," Wajir DC Henry Ochako says.

Members include the DO, District Registrar of Persons, an intelligence officer, a criminal investigations officer, a chief and elders.

"There’s no guarantee you will be cleared, despite being born of Kenyan parents," Khalif Hassan says. "I was dumbfounded when a chief disowned me despite watching me growing up", he says. He says it is worse when personal grudges spill into the vetting exercise.

Residents claim the vetting process has been soiled by bribery.

Mrs Zeinab Mohammud, a former vetting committee member in Garissa township, blames the committees for the woes of the residents.

Bribery claims

"Some of the members solicit bribes from foreigners at the expense of genuine cases," Zeinab says.

Residents want the committees abolished. Garissa DC Joshua Ogango, however, dismisses the charges.

"They are the best way so far. Residents will argue against because they go through them. But without the committee, we would be registering aliens. The province borders Somalia and Ethiopia that host criminal elements, some linked with terrorists. The Government cannot take things for granted," Ogango says. But residents say the process has not deterred aliens from acquiring Kenyan identity.

"If anything it has served to oppress Kenyans and lay red carpets for aliens," councillor Dagane Siyat Kabahai says.

Vetting committees sit occasionally, sometimes once every five years in other areas.

"The committee sits at the request of residents. Some locations are far and because of lack of resources we recommend that it be carried out at least once a year," Ogango said

Long process Applicants are supposed to produce their parents and grandparents’ identity cards. Anyone whose parents don’t have IDs is disqualified.

"Applicants are sometimes taken to hospital for test. No one trusts us when we declare our age," claims Adan Garad, an activist in Wajir.

Refugee problem

"Sometimes one is asked to speak Kiswahili as a test of being Kenyan. In rural areas, some cannot speak the language and they are denied the document," former Ijara County Council Chairman Dubat Ammey says.

Halima Mohammed Hajj, a teacher, says because of the influx of refugees basic services such as acquiring ID cards or passport are overstretched.

"I applied for a passport in 1997 but I got it in 2002," she says. She says they should not be punished for the influx of Somali refugees.