In a nation racing towards a cashless economy and digital transformation, millions of Nigerians, especially the visually impaired, remain locked out of the financial system, not for lack of access to a particular technology, but because it was never designed with them in mind. For these people, everyday banking tasks are fraught with obstacles, as mobile apps, USSD platforms, and fintech solutions fail to accommodate their needs. This feature by GODFREY GEORGE investigates how the digital finance boom, celebrated as a symbol of innovation and inclusion, has deepened the exclusion of the blind

At just six years old, Vivian Udunze’s world turned dark. What began as a bout of malaria ended in catastrophe after she was mistakenly administered expired medication meant for epilepsy.

The resulting Stevens–Johnson Syndrome ravaged her young body, attacking her skin and mucous membranes. When she woke up, she could no longer see.

“I couldn’t understand it. One moment I was running around the compound, and the next, everything went black,” she told our correspondent in a quiet, measured voice.

The nurse who administered the drug fled Nigeria. The damage, however, was irreversible.

Her family, overwhelmed and uncertain, turned to Pacelli School for the Blind in Lagos, where Vivian began to relearn her world. There, she shed the last traces of residual sight and embraced Braille.

It was difficult. She remembers nights spent crying into her pillow, the alphabet once so familiar now foreign under her fingers.

“I had to start over,” she said. “From ABC to 123. But I told myself I would not be useless.”

Today, Vivian, a graduate of Guidance and Counselling at the University of Lagos, said she wanted to become a lecturer someday, helping others overcome the limits placed on them.

But outside the walls of UNILAG, Vivian is constantly reminded that Nigeria is not yet built for people like her.

When she opens mobile banking apps, the confidence she has in the classroom falters.

These platforms, billed as tools of convenience for all, speak a language she cannot hear, see, or touch.

Using smartphone in a sighted world

In a world so dominated by the visual, it may seem inconceivable that a blind person could navigate the touchscreen of a smartphone with any level of independence.

Yet across Nigeria, thousands of visually impaired individuals do just that every single day, thanks to powerful accessibility tools and a remarkable resilience of spirit.

The first enabler is the screen reader. On Android devices, it is known as TalkBack; on iPhones, it is VoiceOver.

Once activated, these tools speak aloud every element on the screen. A blind user moves a finger across the surface of the phone, and the screen reader announces each item in turn—”Messages,” “WhatsApp,” “1:45 p.m.,” “Battery 60 per cent.”

A double tap selects the item; a swipe navigates. What is, for others, a flat glass screen becomes, in their hands, a dynamic and responsive audio map.

Vivian learnt to use a smartphone during her years at the University of Lagos. With TalkBack, she sends messages, places calls, and browses the internet, but there is a problem when she wants to use her banking app, because the TalkBack feature is not compatible with most of the banking apps.

Braille compatibility

In addition to screen readers, smartphones also offer Braille compatibility. Those with knowledge of Braille can use external refreshable Braille displays or on-screen Braille keyboards to type and read. Some prefer this method, especially in public spaces where audio may not be ideal.

Voice commands and speech-to-text features are another critical lifeline. They allow users to dictate messages, set alarms, initiate searches, or launch applications just by speaking.

It’s not uncommon to hear a blind person issuing quiet, swift commands to Siri or Google Assistant, completing tasks in seconds.

There are also apps created specifically for the blind. One such app is the ‘Be My Eyes’ app. It connects blind users to volunteers who describe visual scenes through video calls.

‘Seeing AI’, a newer model, reads printed text, identifies currency, and even describes people’s faces.

But despite all these innovations, the digital environment remains uneven. Many Nigerian apps are not designed with accessibility in mind.

Login pages without labelled fields, buttons with no voice-readable tags, and verification steps requiring photographs or facial recognition effectively lock blind users out.

For all their ingenuity and courage, people like Vivian are still held back, not by their blindness, but by the indifference of design.

“I can do almost anything on my phone,” she said. “But the question is, will the app let me? Most bank apps are not built with us in mind.”

This is the paradox of modern accessibility: the technology exists, the users are ready, but the systems too often fail to meet them halfway.

“Most apps don’t work with my screen reader. Buttons are just ‘button, button, button’,” she said. “You don’t know what to press. You just guess. And if you guess wrong, you’re logged out.”

Vivian often toggles TalkBack off and on again, hoping the interface might cooperate the second time around.

But more often than not, she gives up. For certain services, she must rely on friends to help transfer money or confirm transactions. Each time, her autonomy is quietly chipped away.

USSD, often offered as a workaround, is only marginally better. The timed prompts don’t account for screen reader delays. Any pause, and the entire session resets.

“It feels like the system is saying, ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’” she said.

The exclusion isn’t limited to one app or one bank. It’s systemic. Many platforms are built with visual verification in mind – selfies, retina scans, image-based CAPTCHAs. For a blind user, these aren’t just barriers; they are dead ends.

“I once tried to register on a platform, and it asked for a retina scan. I laughed. Do they think every Nigerian has eyes that can see?”

She doesn’t want pity. Her voice carries steel when she speaks of independence.

“I just want what everyone else has. I don’t want to feel like a burden because I want to buy something online or transfer money.”

What Vivian demands is not extraordinary. It is the promise already enshrined in Nigeria’s Disability Act (2018), which mandates that digital services be accessible to persons with disabilities.

Yet, five years on, enforcement remains a distant dream. Apps continue to ignore basic screen reader compatibility. Financial institutions still design systems that assume every user can see.

“It’s not that they can’t fix it,” she said. “They just don’t think of us when they build. No one should feel unseen by the systems meant for everyone.”

And yet, every time she tries to bank online or use mobile apps, that is exactly how she feels.

Shut out of the system

The first time Trust Inonse tried to open a mobile money account, he laughed.

“It was one of those apps that is supposed to help you save money and make basic transactions, but it refused to sign me up. Some of these apps ask for a clear photo showing your retina. What retina?” he queried.

For those who know his story, Trust is more than just another blind Nigerian trying to make technology work for him.

He is a writer, broadcaster, MC, and advocate, a self-proclaimed ‘stubborn optimist’ whose journey has spotlighted a dark corner of Nigeria’s tech boom: the exclusion of blind people from digital banking.

Blindness began early

Trust wasn’t born blind. At age four, a sudden, aggressive glaucoma attack, which he now calls “the silent thief of sight”, stole his sight completely and extinguished a childhood dream.

That loss might have derailed someone else, but Trust chose a different path.

Though details of his early life are sparse, a picture emerges of a determined boy, quick to adapt, mastering Braille, learning orientation skills, and becoming fluent in a world without sight.

From sound editing to radio presenting, he built a thriving career in Lagos as a respected voice-over specialist.

By his late 20s, Trust had carved a name for himself not only as a professional, but also as a passionate advocate. His voice, once limited to studio microphones, began to echo in public forums, op-eds, and policy discussions, insisting that true innovation must include everyone.

In a series of anecdotes shared with our correspondent, he recounted the daily absurdities he and others face: apps that crash mid-use, interfaces that ignore screen readers, banking systems that demand photographs or retina scans.

“I felt mocked,” he said. “Not just by the app, but by a country that thinks innovation is only for those who can see.

“I’ve reached out to some of these apps. I’ve been calling out one on X for months. They read my tweets but never respond. Some of them are traditional banks, and their apps aren’t accessible at all. Even when we try to use our own assistive software, it’s not compatible.

“Did they not consider the blind when building these apps, or are they deliberately locking us out of the digital financial space because we can’t see?” he asked.

Utter frustration

“I downloaded the mobile banking app of one of these new-generation banks because that’s the only way to avoid charges from PoS operators,” said Jumoke Phillips-Oga, a single mother in Ibadan, Oyo State.

“But I couldn’t even use it.”

 “They told me to open my eyes. I don’t have eyes, so the app keeps logging me out, saying it’s unsuccessful.

“I have to add that I often have to find out what the app is saying by asking people. How is my money safe? How are my transactions secure if I always need someone’s help to complete a digital transaction?

“The buttons didn’t say anything, just ‘Button one, Button two.’ What does that mean to a blind person?”

For a trader in Port Harcourt, Rivers State, who gave his name as Benjamin Tamunoasa, he bluntly stated, “I can’t move money unless my nephew is around. And that’s not independence. That’s dependency disguised as convenience.

“I don’t have the energy for the problems with this app. So, I simply wait for my nephew to come and help me make these transfers. I can use my phone comfortably without stress, but these bank applications are the absolute worst. It’s like the developers didn’t consider the fact that blind people also have bank accounts and may need to use these applications for transactions.”

This is also the case with Agnes Jackson, a 33-year-old woman from Igede, Oju LGA in Benue State, who lost her sight early in life and dropped out of nursery school due to poverty.

She survived by doing menial jobs like cleaning, kitchen work, fetching water and firewood, before moving to Lagos.

At 17, she entered a relationship with a man who promised marriage. Pregnant while still visually impaired, Agnes was reportedly abandoned in Lagos after giving birth.

Facing the hardships of single motherhood and the challenges of disability, she now struggles to make ends meet, shouldering all responsibilities alone.

Speaking about her challenges with mobile banking apps, she said, “I really don’t know where to start because someone has to help me. It has to be someone I trust. I’ve been duped many times.”

Innovation without inclusion

Despite the Central Bank’s rhetoric on financial inclusion, blind users say little has changed.

“They talk about onboarding millions of Nigerians,” Trust says. “But who exactly are they onboarding? If I, a literate, tech-savvy blind man, can’t use your mobile banking app, what chance does someone in a rural community have?”

In his more frustrated moments, Trust calls it “techno-ableism”, the idea that technology, in trying to solve problems, ends up creating new layers of exclusion.

“The people building these apps aren’t evil. They’re just not thinking about us. We’re not in the room, not in the code, not in the feedback loop. So, we’re not in the system.

“The best way we can solve this problem is by having a few blind, tech-savvy people join the team that builds these applications. So, during simulation, if that blind person cannot use the app, adjustments can be made early, before they are released to the public.

“If possible, there could be a screen guide that asks persons with visual impairments to click somewhere or speak to the application to open a version tailored for them. These things are simply tweaks that can be done, with will,” he said.

‘I feel invisible’

Several blind users describe the situation not merely as exclusion, but as erasure.

“They never thought about us,” said Ifeanyi Onuora, a university graduate who lost his sight in secondary school.

“They build these apps with people who can see in mind. Then they say they’re for everyone. It’s not true.”

His frustration is echoed by Mrs Stella Udu, a Lagos-based masseuse from Cross River State, who uses an old USSD system to access her account.

“I use USSD because it’s the only thing I can navigate. But it’s slow, sometimes doesn’t work, and I can’t apply for loans or use features like savings goals. Why must I be stuck in 2005 just because I can’t see? Sometimes, I feel these banks intentionally exclude us. It’s like we are invisible to them.”

Digital discrimination

In 2021, an estimated 1.13 million Nigerians aged 40 and above were blind, according to the Nigeria Blindness and Vision Impairment Survey.

By 2024, the number has increased to over 2.5 million, according to recent surveys.

Meanwhile, across all age groups, nearly 0.78 per cent of Nigerians live with complete blindness.

Additionally, the World Health Organisation states that a significant number of cases of blindness in Nigeria are preventable or treatable.

When the visually impaired are further considered, estimates rise to 4.25 million adults over 40, an entire demographic navigating financial systems in their millions.

This is not a fringe issue; it affects professionals, students, traders, and entrepreneurs across socioeconomic classes.

The Association for the Blind in Nigeria has repeatedly identified unlabelled buttons, broken biometric prompts, time-limited USSD menus, and inaccessible mobile apps as pervasive problems.

A survey of 10 leading Nigerian banks by the association revealed that most of their mobile apps are simply unusable for blind users, with screen readers often failing to interpret more than basic elements.

For instance, the Vice-Chairman of the Association for the Blind in Nigeria, Mr Adeola Aina, describes the frustration that many visually impaired individuals face when navigating the banking system.

He notes that digital platforms designed for convenience are often inaccessible to persons with disabilities.

For visually impaired individuals, USSD banking services—a widely used tool—pose serious difficulties. The service’s time constraints and non-speech-enabled token systems are particularly problematic, requiring them to pay for alternative token services that still don’t offer independence.

Aina highlights the pervasive issue of inaccessible digital banking tools.

He said, “Internet banking is a nightmare for us. While some banks have somewhat accessible apps, it’s more by chance than by design, because most of these banks don’t have the blind in mind.”

Exclusion’s real cost

Every unlabelled button and every failed registration isn’t merely an inconvenience; it is financial isolation.

Estimates show that only 36 per cent of Nigerian adults (approximately 30.7 million people) have access to formal banking services.

Excluding the visually impaired from mobile banking means denying them basic access to loan applications, savings accounts, digital payments and transfers, and insurance and credit products.

The exclusion isn’t theoretical; it translates to lost opportunities, increased dependency on others, and a higher risk of poverty.

In Nigeria, blindness is strongly associated with poverty. Surveys report that blindness affects nearly 8.5 per cent of individuals in the poorest households, which is double the rate in more affluent homes, and that blindness often leads to unemployment or underemployment.

Each app barrier compounds this cycle, stealing autonomy and deepening inequality.

When banking apps lock out the blind

Our correspondent witnessed firsthand how the banking apps of two tier-one banks were inaccessible to the blind.

Using three blind respondents for the experiment, the bank applications offered only partial accessibility.

Some functions, according to the respondents, were readable, but others, like selecting a beneficiary outside one’s bank, were impossible without sighted assistance.

One of the banks’ attempts at accessibility through its Light Interaction Tool, rolled out in 2021, remained patchy, lamented one of the respondents.

“Some screens are still unreadable unless voice functions are switched off—a workaround that defeats the very purpose of inclusive design,” said the respondent, a 22-year-old tech consultant who did not want to be named.

USSD codes, often cited as an alternative for those without smartphones, are far from a solution.

These menus frequently time out before a blind user can input responses, and in many cases, screen reader software conflicts with USSD inputs, forcing users to disable their assistive technology mid-session.

Fintech platforms are no better. Built for speed and visual flair, they are virtually unusable for blind Nigerians.

During the experiment with one of the fintechs, the user’s screen reader went completely silent, as if the interface were invisible.

Key buttons and functions lacked text-based identifiers, making meaningful interaction impossible.

The situation was further compounded by a widespread failure to include alternative text or Accessible Rich Internet Applications labels for essential features like icons, charts, or data tables.

Respondents noted that they could not interpret account histories, repayment schedules, or investment summaries, not because they lacked the tools, but because developers omitted the metadata those tools rely on.

No size adjustments

For the respondents, the apps in question failed to offer basic customisation options such as adjustable font sizes, high-contrast modes, or text-zoom features, further alienating low-vision users.

“This absence of thoughtful design choices reflects a systemic disregard for digital accessibility,” said the 22-year-old tech consultant.

Adding to the frustration is the lack of audio cues. Unlike in more inclusive systems abroad, Nigerian apps rarely provide verbal confirmations for key actions.

Whether a payment was successful or not often depends on visual indicators alone, leaving blind users in a constant state of uncertainty.

When they seek help, blind users encounter yet another barrier, ignorance.

Many customer service agents across Nigerian banks are unaware of their apps’ accessibility features or the needs of visually impaired clients.

Requests for assistance are frequently mishandled or ignored altogether, leading to feelings of isolation and helplessness.

A customer service representative with a tier-two bank, who begged not to be named, admitted that he was unaware of these issues.

“I have had a blind customer call me. What I do is advise them to get a trusted person to help them use the application.

I know it is wrong, but I cannot offer help when I don’t have it. The way we are trained, it is hard for us to know all these issues,” the source noted.

How mobile banking apps shape financial inclusion

In recent years, mobile banking apps have emerged as Nigeria’s most powerful lever for expanding access to financial services. They promise transformative benefits across the nation.

A development economist and researcher, Adedayo Adenubi, said mobile apps have been seen to bridge physical gaps.

He said, “In rural communities where bank branches are scarce, apps empower users to open accounts, receive payments, and send money using only a smartphone—often the most accessible technology available.

This virtual access brings millions into the formal financial fold without requiring long journeys to city centres.”

Second, Adenubi noted, these apps dismantle traditional barriers.

He said, “Gone are the days of hefty account-opening fees, physical documentation, and minimum balance requirements.

App-based onboarding, with tiered KYC and partial identity checks, means youths, informal traders, and underemployed learners can register accounts with minimal friction.

Fintech startups like Opay, Kuda, and PalmPay have harnessed this simplicity to register tens of millions of users swiftly and at low cost.”

For him, these applications don’t just offer convenience; they reshape financial behaviour and resilience.

Many, according to him, include features like automated savings prompts, micro investments, and small-ticket loans based on digital transaction history.

The result is that users move from irregular cash spending to building financial security, all within a few taps.

And importantly, Adenubi noted that these mobile apps accelerate the shift towards a cashless economy.

He said, “With QR-code payments and integrated utility-bill features, users are steadily reducing their reliance on physical currency, supporting both personal safety and traceability.

“But there’s a crucial caveat: this transformation is only meaningful if it is built for everyone. Without accessibility at its heart, these apps risk becoming digital walls for vulnerable groups like blind Nigerians, turning tools meant for inclusion into barriers,” he noted.

Why inclusion matters

Another economist and financial inclusion expert, Mr Tosan Olaniran, said financial inclusion was not just about having bankable assets.

“It’s about equitable access to the tools of economic participation. For nearly 1.3 million blind Nigerians, digital banking access is a gateway to stability, and currently, it is slammed shut.

“Removing basic accessibility barriers, such as properly labelled interface elements, speech-friendly USSD menus, and alternative registration flows, could open that gateway. It aligns with Nigeria’s own 2018 Disability Act and the Central Bank’s inclusion goals. Yet years later, these remain unmet promises,” he said.

The Centre for Infrastructural and Technological Advancement for the Blind recently decried the continued marginalisation of visually impaired Nigerians by major banks in the country.

In a statement signed by its Executive Director, Jolomi Fenemigho, CITAB accused several Nigerian banks of denying blind customers fair access to banking services, particularly by refusing to issue ATM cards and enforcing the signing of indemnity forms.

He criticised the inconsistency in how banks treat illiterate persons versus the visually impaired, describing the requirement for blind users to sign indemnity forms as “discriminatory and demeaning.”

He said the refusal of banks to adapt their systems for blind users was a gross violation of their rights.

Fenemigho called on the CBN to use its regulatory authority to enforce inclusive banking policies across all banks, warning that dealing with institutions on a case-by-case basis had proved futile.

He also slammed the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities for what he described as its inaction, despite numerous petitions from advocacy groups like the Nigeria Association for the Blind.

Fenemigho urged both regulators and banks to adopt inclusive policies that reflect global best practices.

In December 2022, the Nigeria Association of the Blind condemned what it described as the CBN’s discriminatory policies against persons with disabilities, particularly the visually impaired.

At a press briefing in Abuja, NAB’s then-National President, Ishiyaku Adamu, criticised the CBN for failing to foster financial inclusion, stating that the bank’s continued inaction undermines Nigeria’s commitment to the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities and the Sustainable Development Goals.

He lamented that despite numerous letters and petitions sent to the apex bank, the CBN had refused to engage with the association or respond, thereby violating Article 9 (Accessibility) and Article 12 (Equal recognition before the law) of the Convention.

He revealed that recent attempts by PWDs to protest at the CBN headquarters were met with violence and tear gas.

Efforts to get the Acting Director of the Corporate Communications Department of CBN, Mrs Hakama Sidi-Ali, were unsuccessful.

Her phone line rang out, and text messages sent to her were not responded to as of press time.

Also, the President of the Association of Corporate and Marketing Communication Professionals in Nigerian Banks, Mr Rasheed Bolarinwa, was unreachable for comments.

• This report is produced under the DPI Africa Journalism Fellowship Programme of the Media Foundation for West Africa and Co-Develop