Tomi Waziri, an Uber driver-turned mental health counsellor, wasn’t born blind. But his life took an unexpected turn when he lost his sight at 27 in a tragic robbery attack in Lagos on the 12th of September 2019.
Despite his visual impairment, Anu, his long-time girlfriend, agreed to marry him. Today, they live in Canada and are parents to two children.
In this PREMIUM TIMES interview, the Waziris discuss how they have navigated the challenges of their relationship, especially Tomi’s visual impairment. They also share insights into their marriage and their commitment to inspiring others through their experiences.
PT: Before talking about your plight, please walk us through what you do now.
Tomi: I am a mental health counsellor and massage therapist. Additionally, I am a content creator or, more specifically, a blind content creator. I am the ambassador of a resource centre for the blind in Yaba.
Moreover, I am a disability advocate, advocating for disability rights. I am also a disability technology advocate, educating blind people and creating awareness about the use of technology, especially in accessing workspaces and being employable.
As you know, many people are unaware that blind people use smartphones, so I do a lot of advocacy work. I also create educational content to raise awareness for blind people in general.
PT: I noticed you mentioned being a massage therapist. How do you do that despite being blind?
Tomi: I understand your curiosity, so let me explain. Massage therapy is simply about performing massages. It’s one of the recommended jobs for blind individuals because all you need to do is use your hands. That’s basically what it involves—using touch and technique to provide therapeutic massages.
PT: How did you lose your sight?
Tomi: I used to be an Uber driver until September 12, 2019. On that day, I was on a Bolt trip. I picked up a rider at 1004 Estates, and we were heading towards the mainland. I asked the rider if I should use Google Maps or if she wanted to direct me, and she decided we should use Google Maps. As I navigated, we reached the bridge, where we encountered some traffic.
While in traffic, I noticed two young men walking by. I thought they were coming back from work, as it was around 8:30 p.m. They slowed down as they approached my car, and one leaned forward, peeking into it. They passed by, but when I looked in my side mirror, I noticed they had stopped just behind my car. I didn’t immediately think something terrible would happen at that moment, but I had a gut feeling that something was off. Within a minute, the two men returned. One had a gun and stood beside my door, while the other was by my rider’s door.
The next thing I heard was, “Your phone! Your phone!” I was so shocked. The man was pointing the gun right at my face, and I froze. I was more concerned about my rider, so in a faint voice, I told her, “This guy has a gun.” I started to panic. I had hidden my phone in the pigeonhole between the driver’s and passenger’s seats when I noticed they had stopped behind my car. I reached for the phone, and just as I looked back at the man, I heard a gunshot. Everything blacked out, and I passed out.
PT: At what point did you realise you had lost your sight?
Tomi: I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but I woke up to the sound of my rider screaming, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She was in shock. I realised the gunman had been searching for my phone after he shot me, but it had fallen under the seat. His accomplice was calling him, urging him to leave. They eventually fled.
As I regained consciousness, everything was dark. I thought the cars before me had turned off their lights but soon realised I couldn’t see anything. I asked the rider if she was okay, and she responded in shock, “Oh my God, they shot you!” She couldn’t believe I was asking if she was okay despite being shot. I began to feel liquid coming from my eyes, and when I touched it, I realised it was blood. That’s when the pain started, and I understood that I had been shot in the face. Blood was pouring from my eyes, nose, and mouth like a tap.
I told the rider to get help, and she stepped out of the car, calling for assistance. Cars were passing by, but no one stopped. I realised I was losing strength, so I got out of the car and climbed the ditch in the middle of the road. I started screaming for help, but no one answered. I was losing a lot of blood, and at one point, I was even struggling to breathe because of a blood clot in my nose. I laid back, feeling weak and helpless.
Being a Christian, I prayed. I asked God for mercy and, in my mind, said goodbye to my loved ones. I tried dialling my mom’s number but couldn’t see the phone screen. Just when I thought I was going to die, I heard the voices of two police officers. They introduced themselves and said my rider had directed them to me. They put me in my car and drove me to the hospital. On the way, I was in so much pain that I begged the police officers to shoot me and end my suffering. The pain was unbearable—it felt like multiple nails were being driven into my head from all directions.
After about an hour, we arrived at the hospital, where my mom was already waiting. They did an X-ray and found that several pellets had lodged under my brain, but miraculously, none touched my brain or spine. The next day, I was transferred from the military hospital in Yaba to Lagos State University Teaching Hospital. That same day, a doctor told me, “Tomi, I’m afraid you will not be able to see again.” That was when I fell into depression.
PT: So sorry about your experience. So what happened next?
Tomi: All of this happened when I was in the hospital. I had never been this depressed in my life. Imagine being 27 years old, having always been able to see, and then being told by a doctor that you will never see again. The doctor was trying to be nice, but the damage was severe—my optic nerves were damaged. I studied physics in school, so I knew exactly what that meant.
I was scared, filled with anxiety, and overwhelmed by a fear of failure. Thoughts raced through my mind—*Am I a failure now? Who is going to marry me? I had all these plans for my mom. A single mother raised me, and I wanted to give her the best. I was a purpose-driven person, always focused on success, and now, the thought that I had to live as a blind person was crushing. I fell into depression and, several times, thought about committing suicide. There were moments when I even wished I could ask the doctor to inject me and end my life.
PT: How did you beat depression?
Tomi: I started asking myself how I could pull myself out of the depression. The first thing I decided was to focus on what made me happy. It was a moment of self-inspiration—do what makes you happy. I started listening to music again. I love music and dancing, so I began to dance, even against all odds. It was intentional. I also started listening to motivational stories. I made a conscious effort to push back the depression.
But even before all this, I prayed on the day I had that realisation. As a Christian, I asked God to help me overcome the depression, and the very next day, I began making deliberate efforts to pull myself out of it. Over time, the depression started to fade. They couldn’t believe I was the same guy who had just lost his sight a few weeks ago. I was dancing, singing, and not acting like someone depressed.
I realised how powerful my story could be and how it could give hope to others. I could pick myself up and turn my mess into a message in a month. By 2019, I had overcome depression. Then, the following year, during COVID-19, I started sharing my story, and many people were amazed and inspired by how I had managed to overcome depression after becoming blind at the age of 27, all within a month.
Yes, I still get depressed sometimes, but I always find a way to pick myself back up. How? I listen to music, speak positively, and maintain a positive mindset. I’ve learned that my blindness does not define me. Once I accepted my new identity as a blind person, I was able to move on. That’s how I overcame depression.
PT: You own a foundation?
Tomi: I noticed that there were a lot of depressed people when I visited the Federal Nigerian Society for the Blind. This was when I realised that many blind individuals were still battling depression. When I asked if they had sought help, I found out that most of them hadn’t seen a counsellor or therapist.
I went to the Institute of Counseling in Ikoyi, and after completing my training, I became a certified mental health counsellor in Nigeria. After that, I restarted my foundation, the Tomi Waziri Foundation, to support persons with disabilities and organisations that work with them, aiming to make an impact based on disability advocacy. The foundation was born from turning my mess into a message.
The foundation is on hold. Initially, I faced challenges with getting support and donations. Many people had trust issues, especially when they saw a Nigerian owned the foundation. I struggled to raise funds for our projects, though I managed to organise a successful birthday event at Ipakodo in Ikorodu.
At some point, I shifted my focus to advocacy and education. I now volunteer with creators and developers to ensure their websites and apps are accessible for persons with disabilities. I do voluntary work, educating people about disability, accessibility, and inclusion. That’s the core of what I’m doing with my foundation now.
PT: Do you fear that you may lose your wife to someone else?
Tomi: I trust my wife completely. My wife is one of a kind; I call her one in a million. I don’t have that fear, coincidentally. It’s other people who have that fear on my behalf. But I don’t. Ever since we got married, I’ve never had that fear, not even once.
Even though I know she’s beautiful, she tells me everything. She was coming back from work when someone tried to approach her, asking where she was going and offering her a ride. She told me all about it. There was even a married man trying to flirt with her. She told him, “But sir, you’re married, and you’re doing this.” The man wanted to deny it, but she dissed him the whole time. She always tells me everything, so I’ve never had trust issues with my wife.
PT: What is your biggest regret as a blind husband?
Tomi: As a blind person now and married, I regret that I’m not able to do many things, like take my wife out. I’m the kind of person who’s very passionate about people having successful relationships. I also advocate for good relationships; many even contact us for advice.
I loved driving before and used to drive my wife around, but now I cannot do that anymore. It’s like she’s the one doing it for me now. I also regret not being able to see my son, my kids, and my daughter.
PT: You seem active in your children’s lives and even pick them up from school. How do you manage to do that?
Tomi: Well, I do my best. Would I say it’s easy? No, but I’m getting better every day. I had to learn how to change my daughter’s diapers because my wife had to go to work. I’m not working right now because I’m still in mobility training and learning to use my laptop. The only device I can use well is my phone, so for now, I’m babysitting.
I’m very invested in my children’s lives, and honestly, it’s been a wonderful experience. Of course, it can be scary sometimes, especially when I worry about things like, “What if my daughter swallows something?” But by God’s grace, nothing of that sort has happened.
In the beginning, it was hard—making her food, handling things—but you know, when you keep doing something, you get used to it. Now, I do it every day. I even go and pick up my son from daycare. He goes in at 8 am and comes back by noon. Luckily, the daycare is just downstairs, and my mobility aid trainer has trained me to go downstairs, use the elevator, and pick him up. I’m well invested in their lives and feel even closer to them.
PT: What are your fears as a parent?
Tomi: My son is four years old, and I fear he will come to reality when he is wise. I have a friend of mine whose dad is visually impaired, but he’s a grown-up guy now. So we had a conversation. He does special needs education. So he discussed with me how he used to take his dad out when he was growing up, and people stared at him.
It caused a lot of insecurity for him. He didn’t like people staring. So I fear that when I’m going out with William, would he avoid me and say, no, I don’t want to go out with you? But I’ve come to realise that, you know, it’s a normal feeling. So even if he does that, I wouldn’t judge him for it.
PT: How did you move to Canada?
Tomi: My wife was admitted to one of the schools here, and that was how we moved. People helped because they already knew my story back then. We had to make it public because we needed support, and yes, people sent help. That was how we came here.
The immigration officers were beneficial. When I got here, I was so surprised. One of the immigration officers noticed all the packages we brought in. She left her seat and helped my wife. I was so surprised! She left her post to help my wife get to the next plane. We had stopped in Calgary and needed to move from Calgary to Manitoba. She helped push the luggage cart because my wife was struggling. I was in a wheelchair and had to carry my children, so the officer’s help made a big difference. They were all accommodating.
PT: Were you both married before you migrated to Canada?
Tomi: Yes, we had our two kids before we moved. I got married in 2020. Amazingly, we got married the year after the incident. This happened to me on 12 September 2019, and we married on 31 January 2020. Well, my wife was the one suggesting that we get married.
And guess what? I had nothing. We started with nothing. We didn’t even do a big, elaborate wedding. We just had a court wedding. I was even telling her, “You can’t marry me. I’m blind.” But she said, “No. I’m not marrying you because you are blind. I’m marrying you because of the man I see inside you.” I didn’t have money. How would we start? She said, “God will make a way.” And eventually, yes, God did make a way. People heard our story, our love story, and everything. God sent help.
PT: How would you describe your sex life?
Tomi: My sex life as a blind person is not different from that of a sighted person. The only difference is that you are not seeing. You can only use your hands, feel, and imagine. I have been able to see before, so the power of imagination is essential when it comes to my sex life. It’s not different. As I said, all I see is darkness, but I can paint pictures of my wife in my head.
PT: How do you navigate the complexity of social media?
Tomi: Over time, I’ve built confidence. Blind people use devices like Android smartphones with the aid of accessibility software. For iPhones, the pre-installed software is called VoiceOver. It is called TalkBack for Android phones, though on some devices, you may need to install TalkBack separately. These accessibility tools read everything on the screen and describe the interface. While I can’t explain how it works, I have demonstrated it in two videos. Essentially, these tools read out what is on the phone screen, allowing us to navigate and interact.
We use specific gestures to operate the phone. For example, to select an item, we double-tap instead of the usual single tap. We also use gestures like sliding left, right, up, and down with different numbers of fingers. Accessibility features enable me to seamlessly use platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube. I can chat, reply to comments, and upload videos myself. I even watch Netflix movies, many of which include audio descriptions—a feature where a voice describes what is happening in the film.
Many blind people in Nigeria are unaware they can access movies with audio descriptions. I advocate for better accessibility and frequently engage with companies on social media to push for more audio-described content. For instance, I contacted Netflix to urge them to invest in audio description, as a significant percentage of their movies are not audio-described, affecting many blind individuals in Nigeria.
PT: What is your day-to-day living like?
Tomi: Here in Canada, a mobility trainer helps me with mobility and teaches me how to move around. Before coming here, I had already learned some basics at the Federal Nigerian Society for the Blind, including how to use a white cane and navigate without it indoors.
I’ve learned how to do some chores and manage daily tasks myself. I know where my wife places some of the plates and where the drawers are. I’ve mentally mapped out the kitchen and the room. I know where my clothes are and where she puts my daughter’s food. I don’t cook here, but can make beverages, prepare my daughter’s food, and boil water. I also know how to use the electric cooker. I use my sense of touch and imagination to navigate and manage tasks, even though I can’t see them.
Picking up my son from daycare is about building confidence. Initially, I was unsure, but with the help of my mobility trainer, I practised going downstairs repeatedly until I felt comfortable. Now, I can go downstairs alone, pick up my son, and return with him, often carrying my daughter.
PT: Do you ever hope to regain your sight?
Tomi: I trust God that a miracle can happen. I still have faith in Him. I don’t dwell too much on it, but I believe that God can bring about a change, even through innovations like Elon Musk’s bionic tests. I’ve seen research on how technology might help blind people regain sight, such as Musk’s bionic chip projects.
I follow Musk on Twitter and stay updated on these advancements. Scientific breakthroughs might regenerate optic nerves or develop artificial eyes. I enjoy sci-fi movies with audio descriptions and am deeply interested in science, animals, and documentaries.
PT: How did you meet Tomi?
Anu: We’ve known each other since we were teenagers and lived in the same neighbourhood. However, we lost contact when I moved away with my family. After about ten years, we reconnected and started again.
We had known each other for about 10 years before reconnecting. We began dating again after that.
PT: How did you receive the news of Tomi’s robbery attack?
Anu: I was at work, around two in the afternoon when his brother called me. I knew his brother was not around, and at that time, we were not on good terms and hadn’t been talking for weeks.
When the brother called, I thought he might have been reaching out to check on me or discuss something his brother had told him. But then he said, “Tomi was shot.” I was in a public place, and I was shocked into silence. My immediate reaction was to wonder what had happened and where Tomi was. I couldn’t understand how this could have happened to someone who wasn’t troublesome or confrontational.
I was overwhelmed with questions and anxiety, thinking about what could have led to this. Without much thought, I left where I was and went straight to the hospital to see him.
PT: How did you handle the early stages of your marriage?
Anu: We got married after the incident. I was already aware of the reality of the situation. Even though nobody knows what tomorrow holds, I didn’t have high expectations. I just knew that I was committing to a relationship with someone who is blind. So, we proceeded with the mindset of seeing what might happen next.
PT: And your family?
Anu: I might have encountered more opinions if I had been more public and attended more family gatherings. But in my case, I don’t have many close relatives; it’s just my mom and siblings.
When the incident happened, I told my sister, and she supported my decision. Then I told my mom, who said, “Whatever happens in marriage, even if someone isn’t doing well, if this person treats you well and it’s God’s will, why not?” Coming from a Christian background, this perspective was comforting.
Later, I realised I might have faced some discouragement if I had been closer to my extended family. But since I only had my immediate family involved, there was no discouragement. Yes, having a small circle of family or friends with solid opinions might have worked in my favour. I didn’t receive any negative feedback or side remarks. My mom was supportive, and since my father was late, I was raised by my single mom.
PT: What has been the most challenging part of supporting Tomi through his recovery, and how have you maintained your emotional and mental well-being?
Anu: Sometimes, I think, “If only my husband could see now, he would be driving us,” those thoughts occasionally cross my mind. Yes, one or two times, it happens.
For instance, after I get back from work and see the kids have messed everything up, I think, “If only my husband could see, he would have helped me arrange the house and see where the kids have dropped everything.”
PT: How do you handle male advances
Anu: It’s normal. Growing up, my mom would say it’s how you dress, and they will address you. But even if I dress correctly, they still come. And I think it’s also dependent on who gives them a friendly response.
PT: How do you balance caring for Tomi, raising your children, and caring for yourself?
Anu: My husband is an intelligent person. Most of the time, he does some activities alone and is not dependent on me. I do just a few things for him, but I do everything for the children. I want my kids to grow a little more. As you said, I still want to do many things but wait to put it all out there. For now, I’m working and running my own business. I’m an entrepreneur, and I work as a support worker in Canada.
PT: As a mother, do you have any specific strategies for helping your kids cope with and understand their father’s plight?
Anu: They are still very young, even my son William, who is four years old. He still asks, “What happened to your eyes?” Even now, he keeps asking. Despite explaining the situation to him, he will still ask again. So, they are still very young. Eventually, they’ll reach an age where they will figure it out themselves, but they are still too young to understand fully.
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PT: Do you ever hope your husband, Tomi, gets to regain his sight?
Anu: Yes, it’s my desire. I wake up each day and sometimes think, “Maybe I’ll just sleep and wake up, and suddenly he can see.” Or maybe I’m at work, and I imagine someone calling me to say, “Maybe I can see now.” Thoughts like that come to mind. That would be my most significant prayer, which remains my daily prayer.
PT: What’s the one message you both have about your marriage
Waziris: To have a stress-free life, marry right, love right, and ask yourself if you are lovable. This self-evaluation helps reflect on your mental and psychological health to ensure you are fit for a relationship. By doing so, you can connect with the right person for you. Love, in essence, is the salt or sweetener of a marriage; it encompasses friendship and everything in between.
