When I first got involved in redesigning UBA’s digital banking platforms, the brief was simple: improve the app look, work faster, and feel modern. But very quickly, the project took on a deeper meaning. It became personal. It wasn’t just about pixels on a screen anymore; it was about people, real people who had been overlooked or underserved for too long.
As I listened to their stories, I realised we weren’t just designing a product. We were designing access, dignity, and trust. In Africa, financial inclusion is often discussed as a set of statistics or benchmarks. But behind each number is a human story. It was through these stories that our work began to transform. Africa is a continent full of contradictions.
In one neighbourhood, fintech startups are building next-gen AI-driven products. Nearby, traders still rely on handwritten ledgers. This is our reality. Financial inclusion here means more than just giving access to banking or credit; it means creating tools that respect people’s languages, lifestyles, and limitations. When global institutions define financial inclusion, they focus on access to services like banking, credit, and insurance.
But in Africa, access is not only about availability but also about usability. A digital wallet is useless if it won’t open on a low-end phone. An app that requires expensive data plans excludes many. Inclusion must be real and felt. For us, redesigning UBA’s platform wasn’t about chasing trends; it was about truly listening.
Rethinking the Starting Line At first, the project’s goals seemed typical: improve speed, freshen up visuals, and simplify the flow. But early on, we realised these goals only scratched the surface. Our users were not just comparing us to other apps; they were comparing us to their past disappointments. People were frustrated not just by clunky interfaces but by emotional baggage from failed transactions, inaccessible features, and unhelpful customer support that wasted hours of their time.
This context changed everything. We reframed our mission: who exactly were we designing for? More importantly, who had we been unintentionally ignoring? Ground Zero: Human-Centred Research To answer these questions, we left the boardroom and travelled across cities and small towns, Lagos, Kano, Makurdi, and Port Harcourt, talking to students, bike riders, traders, tailors, teachers, and retirees.
We observed how people used their phones during power outages or when data was running low. We sat beside a mechanic who memorised USSD codes but distrusted app balances. We met a market woman who checked her balance only on Sundays, when the network was less congested. A tailor told us she took screenshots of every transaction because “you never know”. These weren’t just interviews; they were lessons.
They revealed how resilience and creativity shape how people engage with digital products. And they showed us that the problem wasn’t the people but the systems. What Inclusion Looks Like The biggest insight was clear: inclusion is not a feature to add at the end; it must guide every design decision. We made tough calls, stripping back animations, simplifying flows, and building redundancy into error messages.
Every interaction had to work on basic phones, cracked screens, or spotty 3G connections. Core functions like checking balances or sending money had to be accessible within one or two taps. Fonts became larger, icons clearer, and navigation more intuitive. When errors happened, we avoided cryptic codes and instead explained what went wrong in plain English, Pidgin, Hausa, or Igbo where possible, also showing users what to do next.
One of the proudest features was an onboarding flow that didn’t require visiting a branch. Users could open basic accounts using just their name and phone number, a change that truly impacted lives. Balancing Innovation and Accessibility Sometimes, the latest technology can get in the way.
Biometric logins sound futuristic, but what if your phone doesn’t support it or your fingerprint scanner is broken? We offered options: PINs, passwords, biometrics, and choice itself became a form of inclusion. Some team members worried we were “dumbing down” the app, but I pushed back. If we can’t serve the majority of our users, who are we really building for? Small but thoughtful tweaks, like letting users resume where they left off or handling interruptions from calls or low batteries, had a big impact.
We introduced a data-lite mode for users on tight budgets so they could still carry out essential functions without worrying about megabytes. Rebuilding Trust, One Click at a Time Many users approached us with scepticism, having been burnt before by failed logins, missing money, and no explanations.
We worked hard to make every interaction feel safe. Confirmation messages were clear, feedback was instant, and if a process was delayed, users were informed it was still processing. Successful actions were celebrated with visuals and kind words like “You did it” and “We’ve got you.” We made pricing transparent and explained fees upfront. Help options were available at every stage, and gentle nudges appeared when users seemed stuck. We wanted the app to feel like a supportive friend.
These small touches mattered because inclusion isn’t just about function. It’s about emotion. Trust is built on how a product makes people feel. Cross-Team Collaboration: Everyone Involved This transformation didn’t happen in isolation.
We needed everyone on board – designers, developers, legal, marketing, and support – to truly understand who we were designing for. Designers listened to customer support calls, developers joined field research, legal helped us creatively meet KYC requirements without excluding users, and regulators participated in usability tests.
The Outcome: More Than Numbers Yes, metrics improved. User ratings rose, app downloads increased, and complaints dropped, but the real success was in the messages we received. One user said, “This app finally gets me.” We saw people in remote areas using features they had never tried before. Onboarding drop-offs fell by 40%, and engagement from low-income users rose sharply.
These weren’t just statistics; they were signs that barriers had been broken. This project reshaped my view of design. Empathy is not just a buzzword but a responsibility. Inclusion is not charity; it’s a smart, sustainable strategy. Good design disappears into the background. The best interfaces are born from real-world understanding.
Our job is to make the product meet the user, not the other way around.
Stephen Okwechime is a seasoned digital product designer passionate about creating user-centric solutions that drive financial inclusion in emerging markets. With over a decade of experience leading design projects for top African fintechs, Stephen believes technology should empower and uplift underserved communities. He holds a master’s degree in human-computer interaction and advocates for empathetic design as a tool to bridge gaps in access and opportunity.