My aunt Nana is a tireless organiser. Blessed with ageless genes, her lithe gait and looks disguise her age and the dynamo whirring within.
I’m often embarrassed to introduce her as my auntie; she was in secondary school when I was born. The knack for putting things together is wired into her genes too. She’s my go to person for last minute plans. When I want a flight booked or find a caterer or get a material bought and sewn, all on short notice, Nana is the one I call.
Abby and Chiquita, her daughters, are cut from the same cloth – same youthful genes and the DNA of a planner. People sometimes think they are sisters. Always bubbling with business ideas, it was from Nana I Iearned about virtual assistants.
Lately, Nana and Abby gave me a crash course on WhatsApp. On how the most popular messaging app in Nigeria is turning business on its head. Before my WhatsApp business for dummies class I had seen posters advertising International English Language Testing System (IELTS) classes on the platform but never gave it a second thought. Even the adverts selling social media data bundles including WhatsApp, repeated on radio almost to the point of insufferable, didn’t call my attention. The drama around the storyline was more interesting. Still, I didn’t get it; until my aunt and cousin opened my eyes.
Abby runs two fashion stores in Lagos from Frankfurt where she lives but plans to close one of them. Footfall at the location and Nigerians’ ambivalence to in-store experience are her reasons. Rather than walk in to try on the apparels, her customers, from as far flung as Jalingo, would rather spend five days chatting with her on WhatsApp.
Her customer engagement strategy has changed since she found out customers prefer being sent pictures and talked through options. Her new plan is to engage them on the platform, to bring the experience to them. A version of the apocalypse ravaging retail stores in the West is happening here, she says. David Wej, a fashion retail brand, has shut many of its stores but does quite well online where Nigerians are now buying more than mobile phones.
As a natural-born arranger, Nana and WhatsApp were bound to meet. From the parquet floor tiles in Abby’s store and her house, to yards of lace pooled from the warren of shops in Balogun market all have been ordered from the comfort of her home, car or office. When she wanted to buy bales of lace materials not too long ago the inconvenience of finding where to park and the thought of time spent searching the market for the right pattern and colours and combinations and quantity made her go the WhatsApp route.
Armed with the number of a store owner in the market she and the lady do business on the messaging app. The broker sends her pictures and prices from her store and that of others, they haggle for days, agree and, finally, money and goods exchange. The last chat, which she showed me, was a text confirming a transfer of the agreed amount; made just after her driver confirmed he had picked up the materials. Being on WhatsApp is now a must for doing business with my aunt. It makes sense.
Chatting with a person over the phone with a number that can be authenticated is perhaps why the app is popular, in my view. The cost of data needed to keep it connected to the internet is, however, even more important.
There are not too many of us on the internet much less on social media; although there are 172 million mobile phone subscribers in Nigeria. Pardon my oversimplification but bear with me. If you’re reading this article through a device connected to the internet you’re among the 112 million internet users in Nigeria, that’s one out of seven mobile phone subscribers.
Meanwhile, if a phone is your default gateway to the internet, you’re among the 30% of mobile phone subscribers with a smartphone (probably an Asian brand). And if social media is where you get news or spend your every waking hour, you’re among the negligible 24 million active social media users in Nigeria.
You’ve probably heard the joke that Nigeria is the only country where a monthly data subscription is renewed twice. Buried in the joke is the reality: data is a luxury for many in the country and a big entry barrier to the internet. One gigabyte of data costs as much as 6% of the old minimum wage; it comes to 3% if you use the new minimum. The global target is to make it equivalent to 2%. Though cheap Asian brands have put smartphones in many more hands, the penetration in Nigeria is “insignificant”, according to the 2019 Jumia Mobile Report.
Still, for an increasing number of people on either end of business transactions, WhatsApp is good as the internet gets. On my way home after that crash course from my aunt and cousin I kept wondering how affordable smartphones coupled with cheaper data could be the turning point for many would-be entrepreneurs out there across the data divide.
Tayo Fagbule
