Adil Khawaja and Peter Ndegwa are presiding over what many Kenyans now see as a troubling decline at Safaricom, a company that was once the gold standard of reliability and customer trust. Under their leadership, service quality has visibly deteriorated, customer complaints have grown louder, and key decisions from the rollout of the “My One App” to the expanding reach of Fuliza have raised serious questions about priorities at the top. For a company that sits at the centre of Kenya’s economic and social life, this is no small matter. The issue is no longer about isolated service failures. It is about leadership, direction, and whether those entrusted with Safaricom are still putting the Kenyan customer first.
Safaricom is no longer just a telecommunications company. It is a national system. It powers payments, communication, business, and daily survival for millions of Kenyans. From the smallest trader in a roadside stall to the largest corporate entity, Safaricom sits quietly at the centre of economic life. That is precisely why what is happening inside the company today matters so deeply. When a company of that scale begins to show cracks, the effects are not isolated. They ripple across households, businesses, and the entire economy. And right now, those cracks are becoming harder to ignore.
There was a time when Safaricom’s reputation was almost untouchable. The network worked. M-Pesa was fast and reliable. Customer care responded. Problems were fixed. The brand stood for efficiency, convenience, and trust. Kenyans did not just use Safaricom; they depended on it. That dependence was built over years of consistent service and a deep understanding of the Kenyan market. But today, the conversation has shifted. Increasingly, what was once praise is now frustration. What was once confidence is now doubt. And what was once loyalty is now being tested.
Across the country, the complaints sound the same. Dropped calls have become common. Data speeds fluctuate unpredictably. Network stability, once a defining strength, now feels inconsistent. Customers report raising issues repeatedly, only to receive generic responses that do little to resolve the underlying problems. The frustration is not just about technical failures. It is about the feeling of being ignored. When a paying customer reports a problem and nothing changes, the issue is no longer just service quality. It becomes a question of respect.
Customer care, once a pillar of Safaricom’s brand, has become a point of irritation. Many users describe long wait times, repeated explanations, and a cycle of follow-ups that lead nowhere. The system feels stretched, overwhelmed, or simply disconnected from the urgency of customer needs. For a company that processes millions of transactions daily and handles critical financial flows, this kind of breakdown is not minor. It is structural. It signals a shift away from responsiveness toward something more distant and less accountable.
At the same time, Safaricom’s financial products have expanded, with Fuliza standing out as one of the most widely used. Introduced as an overdraft facility, Fuliza was marketed as a convenient safety net. It allowed users to complete transactions even when their M-Pesa balance was insufficient. In theory, it solved a real problem. In practice, however, it has introduced a new layer of complexity into the lives of many users. What was meant to be a short-term solution has, for some, become a recurring cycle.
Fuliza operates on a simple premise. You borrow when your balance runs out, and you repay when funds come in. But the reality is rarely that straightforward. For many users, especially those with limited income, repayment is quickly followed by another shortfall. The result is a pattern of repeated borrowing and repayment, with fees accumulating along the way. Over time, these small charges add up. What feels like a convenience in the moment becomes a constant deduction from already stretched resources.
This raises difficult questions about the role Safaricom is playing in the financial lives of its customers. Is Fuliza functioning as a temporary bridge, or is it becoming a dependency mechanism? When millions rely on overdraft facilities for basic transactions, it suggests deeper economic pressure. But it also places Safaricom in a powerful position, one where it benefits from the very conditions that make customers vulnerable. That dynamic is not illegal, but it is worth examining, especially for a company that occupies such a central role in everyday life.
Then comes the latest shift: the merging of the M-Pesa App and the MySafaricom App into what is now known as “My One App.” On paper, the move appears logical. One platform, all services, simplified access. But in execution, the experience has been far from seamless. Users report confusion, slower navigation, and a cluttered interface that makes simple tasks feel unnecessarily complicated. Features that were once easy to access now require multiple steps. What used to be intuitive now demands adjustment.
The problem is not innovation. Safaricom has always been innovative. The problem is disruption without clear improvement. The previous apps, while separate, were functional. They served distinct purposes and did so effectively. By merging them into a single platform without maintaining that clarity, Safaricom risks alienating users who valued simplicity above all else. In a market where digital literacy varies widely, complexity is not a small issue. It is a barrier.
For many Kenyans, Safaricom’s greatest strength was its simplicity. Dial a code, send money, buy airtime, move on. The introduction of a more layered, app-driven experience may align with global tech trends, but it does not automatically translate to local success. When users feel that a new system makes their lives harder rather than easier, the backlash is inevitable. And that backlash is already visible in conversations across social media, customer forums, and everyday interactions.
At the centre of all these developments is leadership. Decisions about network investment, product design, customer experience, and service delivery are not made at random. They are strategic. They reflect priorities. And those priorities are set at the top. CEO Peter Ndegwa and Chairman Adil Khawaja sit at the helm of one of Africa’s most influential companies. With that position comes not just authority, but responsibility.
The questions being asked today are not personal attacks. They are questions of accountability. Why is service quality declining? Why does customer care feel less effective? Why introduce a merged app that appears to complicate rather than simplify? Why does Fuliza, for some users, feel less like a safety net and more like a cycle? These are not abstract concerns. They are grounded in the lived experiences of millions of customers.
There is also a broader concern about direction. Safaricom is expanding, innovating, and diversifying. That is expected of a company of its size. But expansion must not come at the expense of core service. Growth must not overshadow reliability. Innovation must not replace usability. If customers begin to feel that they are being pushed toward products rather than served by them, trust begins to erode.
Trust is Safaricom’s most valuable asset. More than infrastructure, more than technology, more than market share. It is the reason people choose the network, use M-Pesa, and rely on its services without hesitation. Once that trust is shaken, recovery is not guaranteed. It requires deliberate effort, transparency, and a willingness to listen.
Safaricom still has the capacity to correct course. The issues being raised are not irreversible. Network performance can be improved. Customer care systems can be strengthened. The “My One App” experience can be refined. Fuliza can be reassessed to ensure it serves customers without creating unintended burdens. But these changes require acknowledgement. They require leadership to step forward, not just with assurances, but with action.
What is at stake is more than brand reputation. It is the relationship between Safaricom and the Kenyan public. A relationship built over years of mutual reliance. A relationship that has delivered enormous value on both sides. And a relationship that now stands at a crossroads.
Kenyans are not asking for perfection. They are asking for consistency. They are asking for responsiveness. They are asking for systems that work as promised. Above all, they are asking to be treated not as data points or revenue streams, but as customers whose trust matters.
Safaricom changed Kenya. That is not in dispute. The question now is whether it can continue to serve Kenya with the same commitment that made it what it is. Because if it cannot, the shift will not happen overnight. It will happen slowly, through frustration, through alternatives, through quiet decisions by customers who begin to look elsewhere.
And when that shift begins, it is much harder to reverse than it is to prevent.
