
Across Nigeria, informal workers, market women, vulcanizers, okada riders, street vendors, have long lived without a safety net. Insurance, to them, was either too complex, too expensive, or simply irrelevant. But today, the narrative is changing. With the rise of Insurtech platforms powered by intuitive apps, USSD codes that work on basic phones, and WhatsApp-based claim systems, a new kind of insurance is emerging, one that speaks the language of the people.
For instance, Mrs Joy Balogun had never imagined she would one day rely on a simple USSD code to secure her family’s future. The 48-year-old tomato trader at Lagos’ Mile 12 market had always lived one crisis away from financial ruin. For years, when her children fell ill or when business slowed, she turned to neighbors or local money lenders. Insurance, to her, was an alien concept, something meant for bank executives or white-collar workers in air-conditioned offices.
That changed when she discovered a microinsurance scheme designed specifically for market women like her. No forms, no brokers, no hassle, just a code on her basic phone, a few prompts, and coverage activated.
“I didn’t believe it at first,” she recalls. “But when my daughter needed to go to the hospital, and they helped pay the bill, I knew something new had come.”
That “something new” is being called The Trybe Way of the Future, a people-first movement within Nigeria’s insurtech space that is not just digitizing services, but reimagining them for the excluded majority. Powered by startups like Curacel, Octamile, MyCover.ai, and others, this revolution is embedding insurance into the everyday lives of informal workers, street vendors, transport riders, and artisans—people long overlooked by traditional insurers.
These startups didn’t just arrive with shiny tech, they brought a mindset shift. They believed that insurance could be reimagined, not just repackaged. They embedded micro-covers into mobile money transactions, used WhatsApp for claim submissions, and offered accident or life policies through local cooperatives, meeting people where they are.
But even as this inclusive innovation gains ground, a chilling new report from the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) serves as a sobering reminder of the digital age’s double edge.
According to the CBN, financial fraud cases in Nigeria surged by 45% in the last year, with over 70% of losses tied to digital platforms, especially unregulated virtual asset schemes. Vulnerable users, often desperate for financial empowerment, are being lured into elaborate scams that promise quick returns but deliver heartbreak.
Speaking on the findings, CBN Governor Yemi Cardoso issued a stark warning:
“Innovation should empower, not endanger. It’s our collective duty to ensure the digital economy uplifts every Nigerian, not exploit them.”
That reflection echoes across the tech ecosystem. For insurtech pioneers, it is both a call to vigilance and a validation of their people-first approach.
“The Trybe Way isn’t about flooding the market with apps,” says expert, “It’s about building trust in a country where trust is fragile. When we design with empathy and accountability, we protect people from both risk and deception.”
The contrast is clear: on one hand, we see innovation that excludes, deceives, and defrauds. On the other, we see platforms quietly transforming lives, one affordable premium, one fast claim, one human interaction at a time.
In Kogi, okada riders access insurance for road accidents by signing up through voice prompts on their phones. In Port Harcourt, gig workers get embedded health cover with every payment they receive. In Onitsha, cooperative societies now double as informal insurance agents, helping members submit claims with nothing more than a photo and a voice note.
This isn’t just about technology, it’s about trust. About dignity. About ensuring that innovation, no matter how advanced, never loses its humanity.
Yes, the digital future is here. But its impact depends on the path we choose.
Are we building a digital economy that benefits only the savvy and the connected? Or are we building one that safeguards the hopes of market women like Joy and protects the hustle of millions like her?
As financial fraud rises and scams grow more sophisticated, the answer lies not in abandoning innovation, but in steering it back to the people it was meant to serve.
Because in this new era, true disruption won’t come from code alone. It will come from care, culture, and connection.
The Trybe Way means insurance that speaks Pidgin, that works offline, that pays fast, and that acknowledges the lived reality of Nigerians earning below the formal economy threshold. It means seeing dignity not just in data, but in people.
Of course, challenges remain; low digital literacy, regulatory inertia, and deep-rooted skepticism still stand in the way. But some market woman like Joy who receives a payout without paperwork, every vulcanizer who gets help after an accident, and every street vendor who doesn’t have to choose between feeding their child and buying drugs, they are the proof that this future is already here.
That is the promise, and the challenge, of The Trybe Way of the Future.
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