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Written by: Favour Francis | Reviewed by: Dr. Ortega Ogomigo
INTRODUCTION
From the Lens Of: Mr Allamin Yahaya
There are conversations about disability in Nigeria, and then there are the voices of people actually living it.
‘From the Lens of…’ is a series that centres those voices of individuals living with different disabilities, sharing their realities in their own words. This is not based on statistics or assumptions, but on real, lived experience.
In this edition, we speak with Mr Allamin Yahaya, a 35-year-old man based in Abuja. In 2017, a road accident changed the course of his life, leaving him with a spinal cord injury and reliant on a wheelchair. Since then, he has had to navigate this new physical reality and a country where accessibility often feels like an afterthought.
‘Dealing with spinal cord injury in Nigeria has honestly not been easy,’ he says. ‘Even in places that are supposed to be accessible for us, we don’t have that’.
What follows is his story of adjustment, faith, cost, discrimination, and the strength required to keep moving forward.
ON ADAPTING TO A NEW REALITY
Before the accident on January 17, 2017, Mr Allamin walked freely. Life moved in a way that required no special calculation. But then everything changed.
‘Well, you just have to adapt,’ he says. ‘Understand that this is your new life now. Being able to walk and do your things normally and then being reclined in a wheelchair are two different things. But then you just have to adjust to things’.
For him, acceptance was a process. It was a decision not to remain in self-pity, but to learn how to live differently. The life he once knew would not return, and coming to terms with that became the first step toward moving forward.
ON DAILY LIFE AND ACCESSIBILITY IN NIGERIA
‘A day in my life is not like every other human being due to the lack of accessibility,’ he explains. ‘My condition, living with a disability in Nigeria, limits some things I am able to do. I can’t just go out to random places because not everywhere has wheelchair accessibility for you to be able to enjoy such places’.
Spontaneity is a luxury. Most outings require planning, a private car, or ordering a ride. Public transport is rarely designed with wheelchair users in mind, and beyond infrastructure, there is the weight of social discomfort.
‘It is as if being seen in a public bus is an eyesore,’ he says. ‘There is a certain discrimination’.
The cost of mobility also rises with disability. Ride-hailing services turns into a necessity rather than a convenience. A caregiver becomes essential support, which is an added monthly expense.
‘So, most times you just have to order a ride, and you know how high the prices are now,’ he adds. ‘It’s as if cost increases the moment you have a certain disability in Nigeria’.
Healthcare brings its own layer of difficulty.
When his body needs medical attention, it is not just about booking an appointment and showing up. First, there is the question of how to get there. Then, who will go with him? How much will it all cost? This doesn’t just involve the consultation fee, but the transport, the caregiver’s time, the hours spent waiting, and the physical stress that comes with it. Looking at all this, accessing care becomes a process. And with a spinal cord injury, ignoring small signs is not an option.
In Mr Allamin’s case, he lives with a complete spinal cord injury. That means his body does not respond the way it used to. He does not feel sensation in his legs, so a wound or injury can happen without immediate awareness. His body struggles to regulate temperature, as extreme heat or cold affects him more intensely. Even basic bodily functions require medical support, including the use of catheters for bladder management.
If care is delayed or inconsistent, complications like bladder stones or kidney stones can develop, leading to urgent surgeries, which are most definitely not cheap.
ON INCLUSIVITY, HEALTHCARE, AND WHAT THE PUBLIC NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND
For Allamin, inclusion is being considered in policy, in healthcare, and in everyday design.
‘Inclusion is important, especially for people with disabilities, because there is so much discrimination’. He says
He explains that many people see a wheelchair and assume they understand the condition. But spinal cord injury is more complex than it appears. What is visible is only one part of it.
‘Some people just see a person in a wheelchair, but being in that wheelchair as a result of spinal cord injury is different. So many things in your body do not function like others’.
He speaks about the difficulty of accessing a healthcare system that is already stretched. Medical bills are high for the average Nigerian. So, imagine someone managing a long-term condition; those costs multiply quickly.
Even where there are skilled doctors, navigation is not always straightforward. And for someone who must already plan every movement carefully, it can be a hassle.
Beyond healthcare, he hopes for thoughtfulness.
‘We want to feel like we were carried in mind while designing certain spaces,’ he says. ‘It makes us feel seen’.
Recreational centres, banks, public spaces, and hospitals. Inclusion, to him, means designing these environments with people like him in mind; not as an afterthought, but as part of the plan.
‘What they see isn’t all that there is to it. It is even more complicated than they think. They should show love and give us that grace.
ON FAITH, ACCEPTANCE, AND STAYING STRONG
Despite everything he has had to adjust to, Mr Allamin does not speak with bitterness. If anything, his tone is calm.
‘First, above all, it is God,’ he begins. ‘God has kept me. I believe what happened was for a reason, and that reason brought me closer to my creator’.
Faith, for him, is a survival strategy. It is what kept him going in the early days after the accident, when the reality of life in a wheelchair began to sink in.
But faith alone was not enough, as there was also a decision.
‘I just accepted my new reality,’ he explains. ‘Wallowing in self-pity would not save me’.
Acceptance did not mean pretending it was easy. But he understood that the life he once lived would not return in the same way. So, it meant letting go of comparisons and learning to move differently both physically and emotionally.
Family has also been part of that strength. The support of loved ones, he says, has been a blessing. Still, he is clear-eyed about something many people do not say out loud.
‘You can’t expect people to pause their lives for you,’ he adds. ‘People have to forge ahead to better their lives’.
Living with a disability can sometimes feel like trying to catch up with a world that is moving ten times faster. But instead of letting that thought weigh him down, Mr Allamin focuses on what he can control: his effort, his mindset, his faith.
For others living with similar conditions, his advice is direct.
‘Hold God tight. Accept your new reality and move on with your life. Don’t wallow in self-pity because no one is coming to save you. You have to adapt and forge along’.
CLOSING REFLECTION
Mr Allamin’s story, more than a spinal cord injury, is about what happens when a life changes suddenly, and how a person learns to rebuild within the limits of a system that is still learning to include them.
Speaking as a voice of many other individuals living with a disability in Nigeria, he is not asking for pity but to be considered.
To be seen beyond the wheelchair…
To be factored into the design of spaces…
To access healthcare without added strain…
Through his lens, disability in Nigeria has gone from just a medical condition to an experience influenced by infrastructure, policy, cost, and attitude. And until inclusion becomes an intentional setting, many will continue striving to adapt to systems that were never built for them.
But even within those realities, he has chosen acceptance, effort, and faith over despair, while urging others to do the same.
