Unpacking the everyday wisdom of Nigeria’s informal workers and why their survival strategies deserve more attention
In Nigeria and across much of Africa, the informal sector isn’t just an economic category, it’s a lifeline. From market women and vulcanizers to barbers, keke drivers, food vendors, mechanics, and mobile tailors, etc., informal workers keep cities moving and families fed.
Many informal workers either run their own small businesses or work under informal arrangements, usually without health insurance, contracts, paid sick leave, or workplace protections. Yet, they find ways to stay healthy, support one another, and bounce back from both personal and community-level challenges.
So, what can we learn from them about health resilience? And how can these insights shape better public health strategies?
1. Health Resilience Isn’t Always Formal
Many informal workers rely on grassroots practices to stay well. These include:
- Herbal remedies and home-based treatments, often passed down through families or shared in the community.
- Ajo/esusu — rotating savings groups that help cover health emergencies.
- Flexible schedules, especially for market traders and food vendors who can adjust work to their physical capacity or recovery time.
For example, a street food vendor in Lagos may skip a day’s work when unwell but return gradually by prepping from home and sending a family member to the stall. It’s not ideal, but it reflects adaptability and resourcefulness.
A study published by the ILO (International Labour Organization) found that informal workers often develop “resilience through social capital,” relying on informal savings, kin networks, and mutual aid in the face of illness.
2. Access Doesn’t Always Mean Usage
Even when a health centre is nearby, many informal workers hesitate to go. Common reasons include:
- Long wait times
- Distrust in the system
- Hidden or unaffordable costs
- Language and communication gaps with health staff
Instead, they often turn to trusted chemists, traditional healers, or peers for quick advice. In a 2022 study, the Ogun State Health Insurance Agency reported that over 60% of informal workers said they prefer local patent medicine vendors to formal clinics for minor health issues. They cited convenience, familiarity, and affordability as key reasons, highlighting that this choice stems from practical realities, not ignorance (Akinremi et al., 2022).
This shows us that trust and ease of access are just as important as physical infrastructure.
3. Community is Their Health System
In place of formal insurance, many informal workers rely on mutual support:
- If a cobbler falls ill, other roadside workers help him keep his spot.
- A market woman may receive interest-free loans from fellow traders after a family emergency.
- Young vulcanizers contribute to a group fund when one of them is hospitalised, a strong example of grassroots solidarity in action.
These aren’t official programs, but they are effective in practice. According to a UNDP brief, informal social systems in Nigeria often fill the gap left by weak or inaccessible public health infrastructure, offering “community insurance” through empathy and shared responsibility.
4. Their Voices Are Missing in Policy Spaces
Many public health policymakers design programs without engaging people from the informal economy, resulting in well-intentioned efforts that miss key cultural, social, or financial realities.
For example, a sanitation campaign that requires market women to buy PPE or disinfectants may fail, not because they don’t care, but because the cost is prohibitive or the supply is irregular.
If policymakers included informal workers in planning, and paired that with fair, transparent enforcement free from bias, programs would be more grounded and effective. Many informal workers either run their own small businesses or work under informal arrangements, usually without health insurance, contracts, paid sick leave, or workplace protections.
Final Thoughts: Informal, Not Invisible
The informal sector teaches us that health resilience isn’t always clinical, it’s communal, cultural, and creative. These workers navigate illness, stress, and uncertainty using tools that public health has largely ignored.
If we want a truly equitable system, we must move beyond top-down strategies and listen to the people shaping survival from the ground up.
The question isn’t whether the informal sector has something to teach us — it’s whether we’re ready to learn.
