By Ope Adeoye

In the bustling market of Bodija in Ibadan, you’ll find Mama Fola sitting under her umbrella stall, a ledger open beside her cooler of peppered ponmo and egusi. She’s not just a food seller — she’s also a long-time member of the Ire Ayo Traders Cooperative, a savings group that has supported women in the market for nearly 15 years.

Ope Adeoye

But until recently, that support came with a cost — not just in naira, but in time, energy, and emotional stress.

“Every week, our collection officer would walk stall to stall to collect our contributions,” Mama Fola says. “Sometimes we’d forget. Sometimes there was no change. And sometimes, we’d say ‘come back tomorrow’ — and she’d have to come back again.”

Across Nigeria, cooperative societies have long served as community lifelines — helping everyday people save money, access loans, and weather economic storms. But for all the good they do, many cooperatives still face one silent struggle: getting members to pay consistently, and on time.

And at a time when Nigeria is grappling with record inflation, currency devaluation, and reduced access to formal credit, the stakes have never been higher. If cooperatives — which serve as the main financial entry point for nearly half of adult Nigerians — cannot function efficiently, millions could be locked out of essential economic support.

In markets from Lagos to Kaduna, collection officers make daily rounds, send endless reminders, and often spend more time chasing payments than managing finances. This friction doesn’t just cause stress — it limits the ability of cooperatives to grow, plan, and include more members.

The high cost of missed contributions

For Ire Ayo, late payments weren’t just an annoyance — they were a structural challenge. Delays meant they couldn’t disburse loans on time. New members were limited, because it was too hard to track everyone. And when members dropped out, they rarely came back.

“People think running a cooperative is just about collecting money,” says Titilayo Adebayo, the society’s administrator. “But it’s really about trust. If members don’t pay, the group suffers. And if you’re always chasing people for money, that trust breaks down.”

A 2023 study by Enhancing Financial Innovation & Access (EFInA) found that nearly 46% of adult Nigerians rely on informal financial groups like cooperatives. Yet many of these groups still operate with pen and paper, and struggle to scale or sustain their services.

A quiet shift: From reminders to reliability

In 2024, Titilayo introduced a small but significant change. After consulting with members and local tech partners, Ire Ayo moved to a direct debit system that allowed members to approve a one-time mandate for monthly contributions.

“I was skeptical at first,” she says. “Would members trust it? Would it work with all our banks?”

But within the first month, collection rates went up by 30%. Members started receiving debit alerts — without reminders, without awkward follow-ups. Contributions became predictable. And Titilayo? She finally had time to do more than chase money.

“Now, I help members plan how to use their savings. We’ve started financial literacy sessions. We’re even exploring group insurance.”

What automation unlocked

The benefits weren’t just operational. For members like Mama Fola, the system gave her dignity — and peace of mind.

“Sometimes I’d feel ashamed when I delayed payment,” she admits. “Now, the money goes quietly, and I feel proud that I’m still part of something.”

The cooperative also began welcoming younger traders, okada riders, and even diaspora members who wanted to support family members back home.

One of the tools the group used was PaywithAccount — a direct debit solution developed by Nigerian fintech company OnePipe, which allows businesses and organisations to securely pull payments from customer bank accounts with consent.

For cooperatives, this kind of tool isn’t about going digital for the sake of it. It’s about removing the friction that slows down their mission.

“We’re not trying to be a tech company,” Titilayo laughs. “We just want to help people save better, borrow responsibly, and build something together.”

Why this matters now

Cooperatives are the frontline institutions of Nigeria’s financial resilience — especially for people the formal banking sector still hasn’t reached.

In a country where small businesses account for over 80% of employment, and where trust in digital finance is still growing, making it easier for people to save and contribute consistently can have ripple effects. It can stabilise communities, fuel micro-enterprises, reduce reliance on predatory lending, and help millions move from survival to stability.

“When our people save better, they live better,” Titilayo reflects. “And when they live better, the economy can breathe.”

A new kind of progress

The shift may look like a technical adjustment — but in reality, it’s a quiet revolution. Not just in how people pay, but in how they build control, confidence, and collective progress.

It’s a reminder that financial inclusion doesn’t always mean big ideas or flashy innovations. Sometimes, it’s as simple — and powerful — as making it easier to pay what you already planned to.

And for cooperatives like Ire Ayo, that kind of ease is helping turn every contribution into something greater: a pathway to stability, dignity, and shared success.