One of my favourite moments as a journalist is when I reveal my disability after an interview. The silence on the other end is priceless. Just moments before, we were deep in conversation—me taking notes, asking sharp follow-up questions, everything flowing naturally. Then, when I offer them a chance to ask me anything, they often say: “Tell us about yourself.”
I keep it simple: “I’m blind.”
The disbelief is instant.
“Wait… what? But how—”
I turn on my camera. The shock on their faces when they see my white cane never gets old. Before they can recover, I’m already signing off to write my story.
My name is John Adoyi. I’m a blind journalist, poet, and disability advocate. I can describe Lagos in vivid detail—the anger, the madness, the rhythm—even though I haven’t seen it in 15 years. Technology, imperfect as it is, has helped me navigate that rhythm. But this independence didn’t come easily. It started with the most basic tool that changed my life.
The First Revolution: Braille
When glaucoma stole my sight in 2004—made worse by counterfeit eye drops and medical neglect—I couldn’t imagine a world where technology would become my eyes.
Braille was my first lifeline. Those six dots, invented by Louis Braille, became my way of reading when I had to leave mainstream school. At Pacelli School for the Blind in Surulere, Braille was my gateway to books—massive, heavy volumes of Shakespeare, Gabriel Okara, and Nigerian literature.
But Braille had one problem: it kept me separate from the sighted world. I needed something that could bridge that gap.
The Typewriter Wars
Enter the typewriter—supposedly my ticket to the sighted world.
It was a disaster.
Paper jammed. Ribbons faded. I’d type for hours, convinced I’d written pages, only to be handed a blank sheet. My highest score was 30%. Others scored 100%.
I nearly gave up.
The Day Everything Changed
Then came the computers.
On my first day in the school lab, I tripped over cables, sent keyboards flying, and got kicked out. I thought my chance was over.
But a teacher believed in me. She brought me back, sat me down, and introduced me to a screen reader called Job Access With Speech. Suddenly, the computer spoke to me.
It wasn’t perfect. I once typed an entire essay without realising I hadn’t saved it. But slowly, I learned. By secondary school, I was writing exams on my laptop.
My First Mobile Phone: A Comedy of Errors
My first phone was my mother’s old Nokia. No voice assistant—just buttons. I memorised keypresses: Press ‘2’ three times for ‘C’… ‘7’ four times for ‘S’…
I called so many wrong numbers.
Then came my first speech-enabled phone—a Nokia that could read texts aloud. It changed everything. Now, I use an Android with TalkBack, though it still struggles with Nigerian names.
Becoming a Journalist
I never thought I could be a journalist. How would I take notes? How would I read documents?
Then I met Ayoola, a blind journalist. He showed me it was possible.
Today, I record interviews, transcribe them with software, and write drafts with voice commands. My screen reader helps me browse the web, jumping between headings and links.
But I still need help sometimes—formatting articles, checking layouts. Independence doesn’t mean doing everything alone.
How Ride-Hailing Apps Saved Me
Before apps like Bolt, Lagos was a nightmare. Buses wouldn’t stop. Crossing roads meant waiting endlessly for a kind stranger.
Now, I book rides with a few taps. No more begging for help at bus stops.
The Fight for Accessibility Isn’t Over
Despite these wins, Nigeria is still far from inclusive. Many apps and websites don’t work with screen readers. Job discrimination is common.
But here’s the truth: when companies ignore accessibility, they shut out millions of potential users. Simple fixes—like labelling buttons and adding image descriptions—could change that.
A Final Thought
Technology gave me a voice. It turned a boy who struggled with typewriters into a journalist interviewing people across continents.
But the work isn’t done. I don’t want pity—I want equality. I want a world where blind people aren’t seen as inspirational for living ordinary lives, but as ordinary people living full ones.
That’s the future we should build.
What’s your experience with accessibility? Share your thoughts below.
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