I have not had an original birth certificate since 2015. Together with my parents, we lost it somewhere in town. Possibly in a restaurant near GPO. I have never needed it and the photocopy has always sufficed. But now, as every girl with big dreams would, I need a passport, and that requires the original birth certificate. That shouldn’t be so hard, right? Wrong.
I’ve heard that immigration offices are thorough. They wouldn’t understand why one of my names on the birth certificate differs from that on my national identity card. As far as everything that matters is concerned, the person on my birth certificate and that on my identification card, are different.
In 2022, I went to Huduma Centre headquarters to inquire about how I could get an original birth certificate and have it amended as well. I was referred to the registry offices in Upper Hill. Here, I explained my case and was told that I would need to go to Kajiado considering it was where my birth notification was made. Unfortunately, they couldn’t tell me the exact location of the offices or share contacts to the same. Dad did the paperwork, but he’s no longer around, and I’m not exactly the Sherlock Holmes type. So, I gave up. I was surviving pretty well anyway.
In 2023, amidst conversations with some colleagues, I happened to mention my case. Among those present, one suggested that he knew someone who could do what was necessary to ensure that my papers were in order. I was thrilled. I sent him the money he’d quoted for the services and let him follow up with “his guy” with the promise of having them in order in two weeks. I gave it a month. Months later, there was no progress so I had him put a stop to it this year around February and committed to do it by myself. I’m glad I did.
I took leave in March and had this as one of the projects I’d be following up on. From an office training, I was in last year, I learned that a lot had changed at Huduma Centre and that one could get any government services at Huduma Centre. As such, I expected that things would be easier so I set to it. To get services from Huduma Centre, rumour had it that one had to book an appointment online. So I tried booking an appointment the night before. Unfortunately, systemic problems frustrated my efforts.
I called Huduma Centre the following morning to seek the way forward. Their call centre, is very active and effective. The lady who received my call was professional and was of help. She saved me the trip to town by referring me to the registry offices in Upperhill. I made my way to Upperhill and after walking around and about Upperhill realized I couldn’t trace the offices. Well, sometimes my memory serves me as that of an ostrich. I called Huduma Centre again as Google Maps wasn’t helping much. My call was promptly picked up. This time around, the lady who picked up my call asked me where I was born and I mentioned Kajiado. At that, she told me that the offices at Upperhill couldn’t help me and that they only served those born in Nairobi. She referred me to Hass Plaza at Lower Hill, Bunyala Road, which is supposed to take care of those born everywhere else, and gave me the locations using Nyayo as the reference point. This was very accurate only that thanks to the matatu I took from town, I still got lost.
I walked from Upperhill to Bus Station to board a matatu that would leave me at Nyayo, and mentioned Bunyala Road to the conductor. While at Nyayo I reminded him and he told me that he’d tell me when we got there. This conductor had me alighting at Matter Hospital which was quite a distance from Bunyala road having me board another matatu to leave me at Nyayo. The one I ended up boarding decided to change its route midway. I refused to pay this one this time round. I alighted very frustrated. I walked for about five minutes to clear my head then decided to just get an Uber to the plaza.
I got to the crowded offices and was thankfully able to make my consultation. The lady that served me made me feel as though my case was hopeless and very new and that she wouldn’t know how to help me. She therefore referred me to her superior who gave an attitude showing disinterest as if to suggest to me that I brought this upon myself. I was adamant in her giving me the way forward. She should know. It’s part of her job. She referred me to the offices in Kajiado. I, therefore, asked which Kajiado because Kenya has undergone several changes since my birth certificate was issued thanks to devolution. We have the name appearing in two of the five sub-counties in Kajiado County and five constituencies that happen to be very active. I needed to know if I was going to Kajiado North, Central, East, West, or South. The much she could tell me was that she didn’t know and couldn’t even assure me if they’d be of help. “Enda uangalia kama wanaweza kukusaidia” were her last words to me.
I left the offices frustrated and angry. It was all over my face. The guards seemed more helpful. Two of them asked me as I was walking out if I’d been helped. I said no holding my tears of frustration back. One decided to call an officer whom she hoped would help me. I therefore went back courtesy of her efforts to meet the lady she had called. The lady told me that I needed to go back to Kajiado. She too didn’t know which Kajiado and told me that they didn’t have contacts to the said offices either. How ‘convenient’. Shouldn’t they have this information? Or at least access to it?
I planned my trip to Kajiado North. This is where I was partly raised. I got to Ngong’, got to Naivas and bought some yoghurt and red grapes for the wait I was preparing for at the registry offices. I then picked some random ‘nduthi’ guy and asked him to take me to ‘ofisi za birth certificate’. It happened to be in the same environs where I applied for my ID. Some kind ICEA insurance brokers directed me to the birth and death registry offices. There wasn’t a long queue of people waiting to be served. When it was my turn, I explained my case and the lady immediately referred me to Kajiado Central as my files were there.
This meant another two-and-a-half-hour journey to Kajiado Central. It took me about three and a half hours though thanks to the inconvenience that public transport can cause. I need a car. I got there past their service hours but the receptionist was willing to help. In less than five minutes they had found my file, had me fill out a B1 form, and guided me through the payment process. He was too eager to help that he did not understand my case. It was while at it that I read that and asked him if that would resolve my problem. He referred me to his superior who referred me to another superior. She took her time to explain to me what their offices could help with and their limitations according to the Births and Registration Act and what I needed to do to resolve the entire maze. She was kind. I left the fee due for the facilitation of the service as indicated in their service charter with her colleague. No receipts could be issued considering the cashier had left as it was past working hours. This colleague made the payment for me the following day and shared the receipt with me. I left feeling content. I am currently waiting for the processing of an original birth certificate after which I can involve an advocate to facilitate a name change process. The technical term used was “deed poll”.
I left Kajiado Central on that day exhausted, famished but satisfied. Having survived on red grapes and 450ml probiotic yoghurt. I traveled the two-hour journey back to Nairobi on the phone with Karembo updating her on the happenings and thanking her for the support and guidance she’d given through the entire process and Eben who had kept me distructed from frustrations and the length of the journey by ensuring my head was occupied with arguments on spirituality, feminism, relationships and all. One thing about Eben and I is that we’ll always be arguing and I’m usually the loudest. Sometimes I win these arguments and other times, I win them too. You read that right. Women don’t lose arguments and Tito can affirm that I don’t lose arguments. I was getting to Nairobi town at 8:00 pm hence could not meet with Slim as earlier hoped but I went for the Afro-Latina dance socials at Yunion, GTC Mall. I freshened up in their restrooms because dust and sweat are an enemy to Afro-Latina dances owing to the closeness dance partners have to have. I also met with Grace who gifted me a very beautiful notebook. The day ended with me falling dead asleep on my bed at 11:00 pm and waking up at 11:00 am the following day.
The entire journey to Ngong’ was an emotional roller coaster and I cannot wait to share this bit of it.
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