Ovey Friday, a 19-year-old university student in Nasarawa, navigated a biometric identification system designed without his specific needs in mind, a hurdle many disabled Nigerians confront daily. His experience, detailed by the BBC, highlights the persistent challenges individuals face in accessing fundamental services. This friction point underscores the slow implementation of a 2019 law meant to guarantee equal access, according to disability advocates.
Ovey Friday, now studying English and literary studies at a university in Nasarawa, represents a success story born from exceptional advocacy. He became the first in his family to attend higher education, a path almost derailed by the very systems intended to facilitate it. Two years ago, when Friday attempted Nigeria's university entrance examination, administered by the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (Jamb), the biometric fingerprint process failed him.
The system could not register his scarred thumbprint or the prints of his other two damaged fingers, a direct consequence of a childhood trauma. Friday, at 13, was accused of witchcraft by his stepmother and subjected to torture at a traditional shrine in Nasarawa, leading to the amputation of his left hand and severe scarring on his right. That changed Tuesday.
His guardian, alongside disability rights campaigners, successfully lobbied officials to accept his toe print as a valid form of identification. This intervention, while effective for Friday, illustrates a broader issue. Not everyone possesses such a network or the resources to push for individual exceptions. "Not everyone has someone to push for them," Friday told the BBC. "Some people will just stop trying." This sentiment resonates across Nigeria, where an estimated 35 million people, roughly 15% of the population, live with some form of disability, according to Ayuba Burki-Gufwan, executive secretary of the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD).
Scarlett Eduoku, a radio presenter in Kano, shares similar frustrations. She lost her left eye at 18 months old, a condition that causes many identity verification applications to fail when scanning her face. This ongoing technological gap meant she could not remotely upgrade her phone's SIM card from 3G to 5G.
Instead, she had to travel to her phone provider's headquarters in Kano's city center, a journey that for many with mobility issues, presents its own set of significant obstacles. Such everyday tasks become intricate expeditions for those navigating a world not built for them. Here is the number that matters: 35 million Nigerians.
These are individuals who often face exclusion from digital public services. In 2019, Nigeria's parliament passed landmark legislation, the Discrimination Against Persons with Disabilities (Prohibition) Act, which aimed to prohibit discrimination and guarantee access to public services. This law established the NCPWD to champion their rights.
Yet, change has been slow. Burki-Gufwan described the pace of implementation to the BBC as "more or less at snail's speed." This slow crawl frustrates advocates who see the existing legal framework as a foundation, not a finish line. The market is telling you something.
Listen. Despite the measured progress, Burki-Gufwan maintains a degree of optimism. He points to specific gains.
Jamb, for instance, has waived examination fees for people with disabilities and established dedicated centers tailored to students with diverse needs. Furthermore, the Federal University of Lafia in Nasarawa has reduced tuition fees by up to 75% for students with disabilities. This financial incentive had an immediate, noticeable effect. "All of a sudden, the university witnessed a huge upsurge [in enrolment]," Burki-Gufwan noted, "because every person with a disability wanted to benefit." These targeted initiatives demonstrate that policy adjustments can yield swift, positive outcomes.
However, these successes are isolated. Chukwuemeka Chimdiebere, a special educator based in Lagos, insists that Nigeria must intensify its efforts to meet the needs of its disabled citizens. "Inclusion is not a favour. It is a responsibility," he told the BBC.
He argues that accessibility extends far beyond physical modifications like building ramps. It encompasses a broader range of considerations: sign-language interpreters in classrooms, learning materials adapted for visually impaired students, adequately trained teachers, and digital platforms designed with diverse users in mind. Strip away the noise and the story is simpler than it looks.
Many persons with disabilities are not limited by their physical or sensory impairments, Chimdiebere suggests. They are limited by systems that were never conceived with their participation in mind. This distinction is critical.
Abiose Falade, a 48-year-old author residing in Ibadan, uses a wheelchair and encapsulates this systemic challenge. She did not perceive herself as different until she began school at age 10. "I was introduced to the world and its intricacies," she explained to the BBC. "Persons with disabilities were not exactly part of what the world wanted." This feeling persists. "There's a list of places I can go and a list I can't," Falade stated. When she ventures out, she often takes someone with her.
This helps her cope with public scrutiny. "When people start staring, start pointing, I don't notice. It's easier than facing it alone."
The physical environment in many Nigerian cities compounds these difficulties. Pavements are frequently uneven or abruptly interrupted by wide gaps in open drainage channels, designed for maintenance but hazardous for pedestrians. Dropped kerbs, essential for wheelchair users, are scarce.
In rural areas, the complete absence of pavements forces wheelchair users onto unsafe, often unpaved roads. Public buildings rarely incorporate ramps, making access to banks, hospitals, or government offices impossible without assistance. This lack of infrastructure is not merely inconvenient; it is a fundamental barrier to civic participation and economic activity.
Adding to the challenge, Nigeria relies entirely on imports for essential assistive devices. Every wheelchair, hearing aid, and mobility device must be brought in from abroad. "If nine out of every 10 person with disabilities requires some form of assistive device and none are locally manufactured, then we have a huge challenge on our hands," Burki-Gufwan observed. This dependence creates supply chain vulnerabilities and raises costs, placing vital tools out of reach for many.
It is an economic and social bottleneck. Opeyemi Ademola, a 28-year-old project manager in Lagos, lives with mixed hearing loss, a disability that is not immediately visible. He describes the intense concentration required for every meeting, and how noisy environments leave him mentally drained. "People assume that if you can speak fluently, you don't experience communication challenges," he told the BBC.
He argues that accessibility is not merely about inherent ability, but about the provision of necessary support. Simple adjustments, such as written summaries following meetings or captions on video calls, could significantly improve his experience and productivity. These are not complex solutions.
Advocates are now calling for a specific policy change: reserving 1% of budgets at every level of government for persons with disabilities. They argue that while limited public funding and competing priorities often delay the implementation of accessibility measures, stronger commitment and rigorous enforcement of existing laws are just as crucial as increased financial allocations. Expanding inclusive infrastructure and domestic production of assistive technologies would demand substantial investment, but the initial steps involve political will and accountability.
The path forward is clear. Key Takeaways: - An estimated 35 million Nigerians, 15% of the population, live with a disability, facing systemic barriers despite a 2019 anti-discrimination law. - Biometric identification systems and physical infrastructure often exclude disabled individuals from essential services and public spaces. - Advocates emphasize that inclusion is a government responsibility, requiring more than just ramps, but also digital adaptations, trained staff, and local production of assistive devices. - Targeted initiatives, like fee waivers for disabled students, demonstrate that policy changes can quickly increase access and participation. Burki-Gufwan hopes for a future where "true accessibility" becomes a reality for people with disabilities in Nigeria.
This vision, he explains, means that no individual is excluded from employment, education, or political participation. For Ovey Friday, settling into university life, the journey continues. He is learning to write in new ways, navigating independent living, and forging new friendships.
His perseverance, and that of countless others, will continue to challenge existing structures and push for a society where opportunity is truly universal. Policymakers must now move beyond aspirational statements and enforce the spirit of the 2019 law. The next national budget discussions will reveal if the 1% allocation for disability initiatives gains traction.
Watch for tangible commitments to infrastructure upgrades and local manufacturing of assistive devices in the coming year.
Key Takeaways
— - An estimated 35 million Nigerians, 15% of the population, live with a disability, facing systemic barriers despite a 2019 anti-discrimination law.
— - Biometric identification systems and physical infrastructure often exclude disabled individuals from essential services and public spaces.
— - Advocates emphasize that inclusion is a government responsibility, requiring more than just ramps, but also digital adaptations, trained staff, and local production of assistive devices.
— - Targeted initiatives, like fee waivers for disabled students, demonstrate that policy changes can quickly increase access and participation.
Source: BBC News