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immigration | Zikoko!
  • #NairaLife: She Went From Earning $1,200/Week in the US to Starting Over in Nigeria

    Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.


    NairaLife #251 Bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    My family had an open approach to money; we all knew when there was money and when there wasn’t. My dad always said, “If you return from school and there’s no food to eat, go to the bedroom. There’s probably money on the table”. If there was no money there, I’d check other places he kept money. If I checked everywhere and there was no money, it meant we had no money. 

    There was no such thing as “stealing” your parents’ money because you knew if you took the money for no good reason, it’d affect you since there was no other source. It also helped manage expectations. I’m the firstborn, and when my siblings whined about wanting sweets, it was easy for me to go, “Can’t you see there’s no money in the drawer?”

    What did your parents do for money?

    My dad’s a pastor, and our finances had a lot of no-money and faith moments. My mum’s a lawyer, but she was also a jack of all trades. She sold chin-chin, beads, hats, clothes, and even ran her own practice at some point. Another time, she was legal counsel at a microfinance bank. 

    It was a two-income household, but we mostly lived on my mum’s income because my dad wasn’t the rich-pastor type. He was more of the pastor-struggling-to-make-ends-meet type, and my mum held the family’s finances down.

    Do you remember the first time you made your own money?

    I first made money in junior secondary school by drawing maps of Nigeria and selling them to my classmates. For some reason, I was good at drawing them, so whenever we were given class assignments, they’d pay me ₦20 to draw for them.

    It later progressed to drawing and labelling skeletons for biology class and selling them to my classmates for biscuits. Slowly, my customer base expanded to students from other classes. While I did this till senior secondary school, I didn’t have a standard price. My friends typically paid with snacks, and I’d charge others depending on how much I liked them.

    Here for the nepotism. What about after secondary school?

    In 2014, I got into university in Benin Republic to study law, but I didn’t do anything for money till my second year. 

    My parents moved to the US because my dad was transferred to a church there, and I realised I’d need to make money to support myself. This was because my dad was still getting paid in naira, which wasn’t much after the conversion to dollars. I knew they didn’t have much. So, when my parents sent my ₦15k – ₦20k monthly allowance, which was about CFA 30k – 34k, I’d lend it to people short-term for 10% – 20% interest.

    What were you surviving on while you loaned people money?

    My aunty usually sent me groceries, so I had minimal day-to-day spending needs. 

    The loan business worked until one guy refused to pay me back my money. He’d borrowed ₦30k and was supposed to pay me ₦35k after a month. I didn’t trust him from the beginning, so I had him sign a contract and use his laptop as collateral. 

    Month end came, and he didn’t pay. I told him I’d sell his laptop, but he thought I was joking. After the second-month grace elapsed and he still didn’t pay, I sold the laptop for ₦40k and told him I was keeping the ₦5k change. He couldn’t say anything because it was better than calling the Beninoise police, who didn’t even like Nigerians. He’d have slept in prison. That was the last time I gave out loans. I can do hard guy, but only so much. 

    I graduated in 2017 and relocated with my siblings to join my parents in the US. That’s when I got my first official job.

    Tell me how that happened 

    Since my dad’s visa only allowed my parents to work, I could only get a job that paid me in cash. Our senior pastor introduced me to a lawyer who needed a paralegal and agreed to pay in cash. The pay was $10/hour, and I worked six hours thrice a week.

    Someone else also offered me another job on the side. It was called medical coding, and my job was to change medical diagnoses to alphanumeric codes — like record keeping, but in codes. So, when he got the medical coding jobs, he’d outsource them to me and pay me around 30% of what he was actually getting paid. Payment was $1 per chart, but I was coding as many as 100 charts daily and 1000 charts weekly, and making $1k weekly. 

    I was 19, earning $1,200 a week from two jobs

    That’s not bad at all

    It was good money, and I hardly spent it. I was incredibly frugal and was only interested in saving. My sister was in high school, and I knew university would be expensive as an international student, so I was saving towards that. I was also saving towards a car and the medical coding exam to qualify as a professional because I expected we’d get the green card soon. 

    So after I got paid, I’d remove my tithe, set aside $100 for pizzas and McDonald’s — which was essentially my fuel for the long work days — and save the rest. The other bills that took my money were the few times my parents needed help with rent or groceries and my brother, who would randomly ask me to pay for sneakers, food and just random things. 

    Not spending enough of my money on myself is one of my biggest regrets today. I thought I’d finally start enjoying my money after I took the medical coding exam. The next step would have been an income boost since I’d be able to get the jobs myself. None of it happened because we had to leave the US in 2019.

    What happened?

    My dad was on an L-1 visa, which is mostly for executives. There’s a separate visa category for pastors, but my dad didn’t come in through that because it’s very difficult to get a green card with that visa category. So, his official job title was something like a financial advisor for the church, so he could apply for a green card after two years. 

    Unfortunately, Donald Trump started fighting against immigrants. My sister was just finishing her first year of uni, and my brother had just graduated from high school. I was studying really hard for the exams myself, and we were all hopeful. But we got denied and had to return to Nigeria.

    I’m so sorry 

    Thanks. I couldn’t do any medical coding jobs in Nigeria because it was sensitive information you couldn’t even move houses with. I also couldn’t do the paralegal job anymore. So, I had to start from scratch. I converted my $2k savings into naira, and I don’t remember how much it was now, but it was quite a lot. 

    I eventually lost the money sef. I naively put about ₦300k in a ponzi scheme that promised 40% interest after six months. I didn’t get anything, of course. Then I used about ₦750k to buy some plots of land somewhere I’ve never seen before. Honestly, I just bought it so it’d be like I owned something.

    Then someone who knew my dad introduced me to a real estate company for a job. They didn’t have an opening, but they just wanted to help out, so they put me in customer service. When I met the HR, she asked about my salary expectations. I just laughed and told her to tell me what the role paid. She was still insisting, asking what I earned before. When I said, “$1k/week”, she sat up in her chair in shock. 

    LMAO

    She finally said the role paid ₦50k and explained they couldn’t pay more because I hadn’t done NYSC. I wasn’t expecting much before, so I took it. I was in customer service, but I did everything. If the lawyers weren’t around, I’d draft contracts. If the accountant were unavailable, I’d print receipts. I also did admin work, visited sites, and took videos. 

    I registered for NYSC in 2020 and was at the orientation camp when COVID hit, and we had to go home. I did the rest of my service year with the same company, even though they didn’t pay me for the three months I was home because of the lockdown. They also tried to reduce my salary to ₦20k because I had NYSC’s monthly ₦33k stipend, but I reported them to the person who brought me there, and they fixed up.

    I started looking for a job as I approached the end of my service year in 2021, but I didn’t know what I could do. The only job I was really good at — medical coding — didn’t exist in Nigeria. I also wasn’t planning on going to law school, so I couldn’t practise. Then, a friend told me about a social media management position in an EdTech company. I’d been posting videos on my personal social media for the longest time, and I thought I could try social media management. So, I applied for the role. Honestly, I don’t know how they hired me because I’m not sure what I did in that interview. But they did, and I got my first social media job.

    How much did it pay?

    ₦100k/month. It was remote, and I also got side gigs once in a while from a lawyer in the US who needed me to speak to Nigerian clients and get documents. That paid $10 per hour worked, and I worked two to three hours per week, so that was an extra ₦10k/month. 

    I lived with my parents, had no expenses and even started saving again. I saved ₦20k monthly with my colleagues through an ajo contribution arrangement and another ₦10k on a savings app. I was in a relationship and thought I’d get married that year, so I was saving because everyone says you need to have money to do a wedding. But I later decided I was too young to get married, so I used my savings to buy my dad a new iPhone 11. It cost about ₦350k.

    In December 2021, I had a severe mental breakdown and decided I couldn’t do the job anymore. My team lead and I were the only people in the marketing team. I was hired for social media, but I was drafting copy to drive “leads” and meet “OKRs”. I had no idea what I was doing. 

    So, I left and told my parents I wanted to pursue a postgraduate degree. Really, I just wanted to leave the job, but I needed to give them a plausible reason for quitting, so I chose academic advancement.

    Did you have any source of income while in school?

    I survived on the generosity of my parents and boyfriend for the entire year I spent in school. I lost the paralegal side gig because school wasn’t in the same state I lived in, and most of the errands I did for the lawyer were back home. 

    After graduation in November 2022, I landed two social media management jobs, one for a startup and the other for a homeware store. They paid ₦100k and ₦150k/month respectively, bringing my total income to ₦250k/month. 

    I also started planning for my wedding. So, some of my salary went into getting my clothes and jewellery. I think that cost about ₦300k. We also had to pay rent for our new place, which cost ₦700k, but my husband mostly handled that. The wedding itself was in February 2023 and was paid for by our parents. They wanted 500 guests, so they might as well pay for it. My husband and I just showed up.

    Were you still working both jobs?

    It’s funny you ask because I kinda lost both jobs at the same time in September. To be fair, I quit the ₦100k job because handling both full-time was too stressful, and it felt like I was no longer doing anything impactful there. The second job is a lot funnier. When I started, there was a whole content creation team, but then they sacked everyone one by one and left me to be the videographer, photographer, editor and social media manager all in one. Then a few weeks after I quit the other job, they sacked me and hired another team because they wanted “quality”. 

    Thankfully, I applied and got my current job as a content specialist with a startup in October. This one pays ₦300k/month, better than my two previous jobs combined. However, it feels like I’m still struggling. If I earned this kind of money two years ago, I’d have felt incredibly happy. But with how the economy is, and the fact that my husband had to drop a job recently and is down to a ₦180k/month income, it doesn’t feel like much.

    What are your expenses like?

    My husband and I operate a joint money system, so our expenses are made together based on our joint ₦480k monthly income. To break it down:

    Nairalife #251 Expenses

    The ajo contribution is towards the rent when it expires. Black tax isn’t regular because our parents don’t really disturb us, we just send money randomly. My brother, on the other hand, calls regularly to ask for one thing or the other

    Your income has gone from a sharp drop to a gradual increase. How has this impacted your perspective on money?

    When you start a career with that much money, you don’t really think of it going away. I always thought it was just going to get better. It’s why I hardly spent on myself. I thought I was sacrificing my right now for a better tomorrow. But it didn’t turn out like that. Honestly, it was so depressing.

    Now, I try to consciously spend on myself and buy things I like. Because who did all that saving help? I don’t have anything to show for all my hard work. On top of that, I had to start my career again, pretending like I hadn’t made good money before. It is what it is. I just have to keep moving forward and keep finding better opportunities.

    Is there something you wish you could be better at financially?

    Balancing side gigs. I’ve realised that I’m not very good with splitting my focus, but that’s what most people are doing to augment their incomes. On the other hand, maybe I just need to get my money up by finding a job that pays really well. Business isn’t an option, because I’m not good at it. I just need to find better opportunities; I can’t do anything else for money. 

    What’s an ideal figure you think you should be earning?

    ₦750k/month. I want my one-month salary to comfortably pay my rent without thinking about what’s happening next, or how to plan to make it happen.

    Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

    Definitely a car. I’m a soft babe, and jumping buses make my life miserable. If I take public transport two days in a row, I’ll fall ill. When I first started considering it last year, it was around ₦1.8m for a simple Corolla. Obviously, ₦1.8m can’t buy anything now, so let me just focus on getting my money up.

    What’s one thing you bought recently that’s improved the quality of your life?

    We got an inverter as a wedding gift and paid ₦20k for installations a few months after we got married, and it’s made our lives easier. We hardly spend on fuel.

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

    2. I’m not happy. I think about all the things I want to do, but I can’t afford them. If I wasn’t thinking about them, it’d probably be a 6. My day-to-day life is pretty good, and I have the essentials. But there’s still a lot I need to make my life easier. If I want to leave the country now, ₦300k salary can’t do that, so I don’t even think about it.


    If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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  • The Return of the Diaspora: What’s Driving Nigerians Back Home? | Abroad Life

    The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.

    Today, we are doing things a little bit differently. Instead of discussing the Japa experience for Nigerians in other countries, we will touch more deeply on why some Nigerians moved back home from abroad and why anyone in the diaspora might consider returning to Nigeria. 

    Just think of it like the usual “Japa” move,

    The inspiration for this article came from a viral tweet that one of my editors spotted and tagged me on. 

    A marriage therapist, Shamseddin Giwa, shared the story of his previous life abroad and how he and his wife could barely make a sustainable income. This forced the couple to return to Nigeria.

    Many Nigerians received the story with lots of scepticism and speculation that they left due to “illegal migration.” It was unbelievable for many people. How could anyone make such a decision with Nigeria’s economy crumbling day and night?

    On this table, amidst the ongoing debates on social media, illegal migration isn’t always the sole reason for anyone to return to their homeland, Nigeria. There are myriad reasons behind such decisions. To gain a better sense of this decision, six Nigerians who previously lived abroad but have now chosen to reside in Nigeria share their motivations for relocating.

    “I had issues with European culture and racism”

    Bayo*, an entrepreneur, didn’t experience the stress of European culture and racism while seeking a Master’s degree as a student in Italy. His once cordial relationship with white people changed after graduation due to his lifestyle upgrade through internships. 

    “After I started to make money from my internships and look nice, I started experiencing racism. My neighbours harassed me and, at one point, even involved the police in minor incidents. For the average Nigerian, every day as an immigrant is stressful,” he shares.

    Bayo moved back to Nigeria in 2020, and he has never regretted his choice. He has made “five times the income” he made in Italy, has gained more job opportunities, and describes his lifestyle as “feeling like a king in my own country.”

    “My mother’s ill health drove me back to Nigeria”

    Even though Dele and Dante relocated to Nigeria from the UK in 2011 and 2018, respectively, they have one thing in common about their relocation stories—their mothers. Dante’s mom fell ill, and Dele’s mom passed on.

    But the one difference they have, however, is their feelings about relocation. Dante, a software engineer, hates that he moved, while Dele, a business development expert, has never regretted it because he is doing “way better financially” than the friends he left behind.

    “I would still have been in the UK if not for my mother’s health. Life there was cool, and there were no worries. I miss the job opportunities and friends I’ve left behind,” Dante shares. 

    Dele is also of the opinion that Japa is only for “economic survival” and that most Nigerians only travel to “gain exposure and enhance their skillset”, not to reside there permanently.

    “I came back to Nigeria because of the conflict in Sudan”

    In April 2023, John* was among the many Nigerian students in Sudan who had to be immediately evacuated due to the conflict in the nation’s capital, Khartoum, and the Darfur region. 

    But even though he is grateful for life, John hates that his education has come to an unprecedented halt since he arrived. “I’m doing nothing at home and haven’t finished my studies yet. And I’m currently finding it difficult to get admission as a transfer student,” he complains.

    “My dreams of becoming a diplomat can be fulfilled here in Nigeria”

    For many Nigerians, they see the Abroad Life as a means of fulfilling their dreams. But not for a recent graduate, Osione. Moving to Nigeria after living in the UK, Switzerland, and Australia is one step towards her long-term goal of becoming a UN Ambassador or diplomat.

    She sees this move as important because of “the connection one needs to have with his or her home country” before becoming a diplomat.

    Does she regret relocating? Not in any way. She is determined to stay.

    According to Osione, “Nigeria can be a hard country to live in and find job opportunities in, but nothing will deter me from my long-term goal of an international diplomacy career. If I want to achieve this, I have to stay.”

    “I left Ireland because of COVID”

    Peter* was halfway through the final year of his undergraduate degree in Ireland when the pandemic struck. As a result, he had to leave Ireland in March 2020 and only go back to school a few months later to finish his degree.

    After graduating in 2021, he never returned to Ireland, and he doesn’t see the need to.

    “I didn’t plan to work or live there,” Peter shares. “I have more family in Nigeria, and I am more comfortable here with my enterprises and accounting career. In Nigeria, if you find the opportunity to be who you want, it’s not as difficult to live here, unlike living an immigrant life abroad.”

  • QUIZ: What Type of Japa Plan Are You?

    You say you’re ready to japa, but do you even know the type of immigration plan suited for you? Well, Citizen is here to give you the answer.

    P.S: You can gain more insight by reading this article on UK student visas.


  • Now They Just Come: A Story of Nigerians Living in Cotonou

    In January, I packed two bags, hired a cab for ₦110k and moved to Cotonou with a friend. We’d had a couple of rough months and needed a break from Lagos.
    Lagos wasn’t a city interested in my needs. I needed electricity, it gave me an anorexic power grid. I asked for an apartment close to work, and I lost my rented apartment to new house owners. Lagos was like a lover who ghosted once you started to want things. I needed better. Enter Cotonou.

    ​​
    I would’ve gone anywhere – as long as I had electricity and the air was cleaner. But I chose Cotonou because it was four hours away by bus and I could finally use my dusty passport. 

    Cotonou offered me three things in the first week we moved: 24/7 electricity, a clean city, thanks to cleaners who wiped the city at 2 a.m., and an apartment by the beach for the same price you’d get a boxy mini flat in the heart of Lagos mainland. 

    At a party, weeks later, when I explained this to a new friend who asked why I was in her city, she contemplated my analysis for a few seconds, then said, “Nigerians used to come to Benin Republic for trade or school… now they just come.”

    It was my turn to contemplate. She wasn’t wrong. Nigerians at Dantokpa market, the biggest market in West Africa, may have settled in Cotonou for trade, but I’d learnt about a growing community of Nigerians with mostly flexible jobs, who, like me, had just come. What were their reasons? How did they decide?

    Jite, a friend of mine, is one of these Nigerians. She’d spent her 20s in Awka and Nnewi, and loved their “small-townness”. Cotonou reminded her of those places. Friendly, quiet, with a passion to do very little.

    “That jet feeling you get in busy cities doesn’t exist. If you go buy something and they don’t have change, you better just stay and wait. If the woman selling fruits has three people buying something, she’d attend to each person one after the other, not at the same time. Everyone is fine with that.” 

    During a five-minute stroll the evening I arrived, she told me to tone down my “Lagosness”. We’d been tearing through the street as though we were being chased, and she’d realised she was starting to pant. We laughed about it.

    In her late 30s, Jite’s priority was peace of mind. Since 2020, before the move to Cotonou, Jite had been considering moving out of Nigeria. She, however, knew she didn’t want to move to a “white people country”.

    EndSARS, the protest against police brutality was the trigger. “Something broke in me,” she said. She’d been a managing editor at a publication in Lagos for three years, and she quit. Six months later, she was in Cotonou for a friend’s birthday party, where she fell in love with the city. When she did make the move, she settled in quickly. 

    Networks

    To enjoy a city, you need to understand how it works, and Jite had lived in Cotonou long enough to build a network. She had a guy and hack for everything. A guy for changing money into her Mobile Money (MoMo) account, which she used for transactions in shops on the streets; she knew what fruit seller spoke Yoruba, the fastest way to get to Lagos and back, how much internet data would last the month (25k, 75gb unlimited, the data cap lasts two weeks at best). 

    In my first week, Jite pointed out places and people I should know to have a good time: Her group of friends with whom she met once a month and checked out new places with, KaleBasse for the sensual, soft, Kizomba classes (we never went), the restaurant by the beach with tasty Bissap and a grilled Barracuda that melted in your mouth. She reminded me not to dress like a hippie when we prepped for a night at the hotel rooftop where a Nigerian singer named Gracia hosted live sets. “If you are black, you need to look wealthy in certain places to avoid disrespect.”

    Loneliness is a byproduct of relocation, and people find moving to new cities or countries difficult because of the distance it creates between loved ones. When I asked Jite how she stays connected to her friends and family in Lagos, she told me she saw them more now than when she was in Lagos. 

    Since Jite started as a comms manager in a hybrid company in February 2022,  she has visited Lagos once a month; she only has to be at the office once a month, so she takes a boat ride from Porto-Novo to CMS. The trip is two and a half hours. On these trips, she visits her mum and friends. 

    On our first night at the hotel rooftop, Jite introduced me to Ade, and the first thing I noted was that he spoke French to the waiter when he ordered a Mojito. For a second, I wondered if I could trust Cotonou bartenders with a glass of Moji baby, but I gestured for a Beninoise instead. As we drank and listened to Gracia belt Adele songs, he told me he’d lived in Cotonou for three years and knows the best spots. I’d meet Ade at various times in the following weeks. Twice at Jite’s for an evening of enjoying her meals and once at Erevan, the biggest supermarket in Cotonou. On one of those meets, we planned to visit one of his favourite spots: La Pirogue.

    27-year-old Ade didn’t find settling into a new place with no friends as simple as Jite. Born in Shomolu to a strict dad who didn’t allow him to spend the night at anyone’s house – friend or family — he was shocked by his decision to move to a new city. He’d visited Cotonou for a short trip, a four-day work retreat in September 2021, and on his first night, he fell for the city.

    “The time was 11 p.m. and everywhere was alive. I got to learn about the culture. For example, how it’s completely normal to have kids before getting married.”

    Ade wasn’t averse to big decisions. He dropped out of the University of Ilorin in 2016 because he hated his course, taught himself to create websites with a friend’s laptop, and started an unsuccessful coaching business. Moving to Cotonou would be the fourth biggest decision in his life. 

    When I asked why he came, his reason was that he felt alive in Cotonou.

    “I remember the moment I decided to move. I returned for another work retreat in December and found myself extending my trip. It was supposed to be for a weekend, but I stayed for two weeks. One night at a Sodabi joint, I immediately texted my mum, ‘I’m moving here.’ She freaked out. Had I considered the language, people, all the barriers? I hadn’t, but I didn’t tell her this. In fact, I had just paid rent for my apartment in Lagos.”

    Where to live in Cotonou was easy to figure out. His boss ran their office in his home, and there was space for Ade. But the next three months tested him.

    Building new communities

    The idea of moving to a new city comes with the daydream of choices unaffected by previous folly. Everything is fresh, exes are not one Friday night-out away from tearing open new wounds and the prospect of getting to know yourself some more is electrifying.

    You meet new people, find new spots. There are decisions to be made about everything from your hair salon down to your biscuits. 

    In reality, all of this was work, hard mental work that Ade, who hadn’t stayed longer than two weeks in a different country, was unprepared for.

    “My first week was great. I was excited, checking out everywhere, taking pictures of everything. Second week was also great. I was working with my colleagues face-to-face as opposed to using virtual conferencing tools. From the third week, I started struggling.

    “I realised I had to make new habits. If I felt low or had to talk, who would I go to? Living at work also didn’t help me. Even when I was done with work, it felt like I was still at work — the office was four doors away from mine.”

    The skill that proved most useful to Ade was his ability to just get into things. Just like he decided to move after a shot of hard liquor, once he knew he had to learn French, he spent time outside till it made sense; he wanted to try new food, so he did.

    “I’d jump on a bike and tell him to move. He’d be like, “Quel quartier?” I’d say just go. If I saw a place with a lot of light, I stopped.

    “Paying attention to how places made me feel also helped. I found Luxury Lounge, the beach restaurant that helps me when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I also made friends to help me with my struggles here. They have context about how the people here are like and can give me contextual advice when I need help.”

    In three years, Ade now had a network of Nigerian friends he met at places like Jite’s rooftop, friends from work and an aunt he found had also moved to Cotonou. These people, finding new places to visit and work keep him grounded. It took Ade about a year to settle fully into Cotonou. 


    When Life Gives You A Beninoise Passport 

    27-year-old Eli was born in Cotonou and moved to Nigeria when his dad’s trading business started to fail. We were eating bowls of ice cream from Ci Gusta, the best ice cream spot in Cotonou when he told me about his parents, a dad who moved to Cotonou in the mid-80s to expand his business and a mum who moved with his dad to build a family. Eli’s voice was soft and measured, unlike mine which was loud, competing with the music playing above us. 

    Eli’s dad left his import-export business in Abia, a state in South Eastern Nigeria when the Benin Republic opened its ports in the mid-80s. This is the story Eli was told to explain his Beninoise passport. His dad imported fabric from Gabon to Benin Republic, then exported them from Benin to the Netherlands. His business grew, and he built a house. He switched to importing clothes, towels, and fabric from Europe and selling them in Benin. When Eli was two, they moved to Lagos, and a year later, his dad was back in Abia State to continue his business. 

    “It was too late to be ‘Nigerian’. I was already in love with Cotonou,” Eli told me. He was back at the Cotonou house every school break, and once done with secondary school, he decided it was time to return. Eli had a plan. 

    “I told my mum we should come back, and she agreed. She also missed the calmness of Benin, and we still had a house. She moved back with me.”

    Eli loved the city and the opportunities his passport affords him. “It’s very easy to get admission into universities here. Once you have 5 C’s in your O’Levels, you pay for a form, fill it, and you’re in. The quality of education is good, but the discipline is poor. No one will tell you to attend classes or punish you for not attending. So the bright students are very bright and the dull students are very dull. It’s entirely up to the students to succeed.

    “I was a serious student. I studied Economics, and now I want to do a Masters in Social Work. I’m trying to transition because I want to travel. I’d like to do social work in a clinical setting, vulnerable people – giving care to people who need it. I’m working in a clinic now so I can do that.”

    Johnny Just Come

    Most Nigerians I met in Cotonou are fond of Jite, and that’s because she’d either convinced them to move down or they tasted her cooking. Jite hosts a once-in-a-while hang-out on the rooftop of her house. I’m eating yam and palm oil sauce on this rooftop when I meet Runor, who’d been in Cotonou for three months and was house hunting. He told me he came for the quiet.

    Runor preferred not to think about Lagos, where he ran his generator daily because his apartment belonged to the section of his estate with low current electricity, and he had to pump the entire compound’s water daily because no one else would do it.

    From him, I found out how much it cost to get a place. “The way these people build their houses can be very funny.” We watched a video of an apartment where the restrooms are outside and there’s no roof from the living room’s door to it. “What if it rains?” He bends his mouth in disapproval, but his forehead isn’t creased. It’s almost like he’s been enjoying the hunt. Runor knew he was very picky, and also knew that was a privilege he could only have in this city.


    “I found a 2-bed with a small bathroom for CFA 85k. I found a two-bedroom place with a balcony. It costs CFA 20k per month. CFA 1.4m a year. One agent sent me a 3-bedroom flat for the same ₦120k. They showed me a one-bedroom with the toilet and kitchen in the same space, so I don’t ask for a one-bedroom again.”

    At the time, CFA 1k was changing for ₦850 at Ajali, Dantokpa market area.

    Runor was waiting to settle down to really experience the city, and with the options he found weekly, he’d be ready soon. 


    There are many reasons to enjoy Cotonou during a two-day work retreat, a month or three years. Everywhere is 20 minutes away, there’s 24-hour electricity, and close to the airport is an Amazonian statue I never visit because what if it falls on me?

     For me, it’s my apartment.

    My apartment is a two-storey white building which houses tenants I don’t hear or see. Security is a man in his late forties with whom I practise my bonjour, bonsoir, a demain. Francis is also the cleaner, gardener, and upholsterer of things.

    He tries to teach me basic French, and I fail most times.

    “Bonsoir madame, ça va?”
    “Bonsoir…”
    “No no. You say “ça va bien, merci. Et tu?”

    I repeat, and I’m rewarded with a smile, then disinterest. I cannot bear to fail him.

    Two months of this, and I still stutter between je vais bien and ça va bien, et tu and et toi. I’ve been religious with Duolingo, but tongue-tied in actual conversation. I know what it means to be happy — contente — but have no idea what conversation would lead to me saying I was happy, and if anyone would be kind enough to place one word after the other so I could follow. Very unlike the Duolingo owl, I chicken out.

    In the middle of March, a week after Nigeria’s gubernatorial elections, we have a soiree on Sunday evening. There’s poetry, clinking glasses filled with zobo wine, a charcuterie board by Lara, my landlady; and art installations to mull over. Runor tells me he’s found a place. My struggles feel a globe away, even though I could get to them in four hours by road and two and half by boat. 

    I contemplate the people in the room, some here to fill or assuage something, each looking for a sense of balance or just a space to dream — a space that fosters dreams. I wonder how long it’d last, how long just until the stain of being Nigerian became a difficulty they had to contend with even here. We focus on the lull of the beach, Dwin the Stoic’s “God Knows Where”. Now is not the time for wondering; it’s for being contente.


    Do you have a story about Nigerian communities around the world? You can contribute to this series. Click here for our guidelines.

  • QUIZ: Which Stressful Nigerian Institution Are You?

    Do you move mad like Nigerian banks or have terrible mood swings like network providers?

  • The Only Correct Answers to Most-Asked Visa Interview Questions

    Before you dream too much about your japa plans, you should know there’s such a thing as a visa interview, which determines if your japa dream will become a reality.

    In other words, you can do everything right, but your village people can still jam you at the interview. Not on our watch, though. Take note of these clever answers to all the most-asked questions.

    “Have you been to this country before?”

    Yes, I have, actually. In my dreams. That’s why I’m here to make my dreams a reality. Please, help me.

    “What will you do if you run out of money there?

    Nigeria has taught me how to hustle. I run out of money here, so it’s nothing new. I also like fasting. It’s my best hobby.

    “Do you have health insurance for this journey?”

    I don’t really used to fall sick like that. 

    “How long do you plan to stay?”

    As long as God is on the throne. Besides, only God knows my tomorrow.

    “Do you currently have relatives or friends in this country?”

    I can make friends easily. Don’t even worry.


    RELATED: If Your Friend Is Doing Any of These 10 Things, They’re Going to Japa Without Telling You


    “Can you show us your bank statement?”

    See, officer, I don’t want to offend you by showing you something that’ll spoil your mood. Let’s just be thanking God for life.

    “Why do you want to leave your country?”

    Shey you dey whine me ni? I love your sense of humour, officer.

    “What do you do for a living?”

    I wake up every day determined to leave this country. My japa dream is all I live for.

    “Who will take care of your properties in Nigeria while you’re away?”

    It’s someone who has properties that’ll be thinking that one. Just let me go, make money and come back first.

    What’s your opinion of this country?

    I know my destiny helpers are there. Just let me pass.


    NEXT READ: 8 Ways to Let Your Enemies Know You’ve Japa’d

  • Nigeria’s Doctor Shortage Crisis Is Worse Than You Think

    The japa wave out of Nigeria is making doctors become as scarce as uninterrupted power supply. Many doctors have seen the benefits of working overseas and refuse to stay and fight sapa in Nigeria

    Even though we can’t blame anyone for wanting to earn their daily $2k, the japa wave of doctors is really causing a serious problem for Nigerians.

    How bad is Nigeria’s doctor problem?

    Let’s break it down in numbers. 

    An estimated 217 million people live in Nigeria and they’re all likely to need medical attention at some point. According to the President of the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA), Uche Rowland, Nigeria currently has 24,000 doctors available. This means there’s one doctor available to treat 9,083 patients. 

    But according to the World Health Organization, a country should have a ratio of one doctor to 600 people for their medical needs. Going by this recommendation, Nigeria needs at least 363,000 additional doctors in the country.

    Excluding witch doctors

    According to Rowland, there are some states in the southern region where there’s only one doctor available to treat 30,000 patients. The situation is even worse in some northern states where there’s only one doctor available to 45,000 patients.

    He said, “In some rural areas, patients have to travel more than 30 kilometres from their abodes to get medical attention where available thus making access to healthcare a rarity.”

    Nigerian doctors are rushing for the door

    Even though Nigeria needs more doctors practicing in the country, the ones we already have are looking for work everywhere else. A 2017 survey by NOI Polls revealed that about 88% of medical doctors in Nigeria were seeking work opportunities abroad at the time. 

    In January 2022, the Medical and Dental Consultants Association of Nigeria (MDCAN) said more than 100 of its members left Nigeria within 24 months. A 2022 UK immigration report also showed that 13,609 Nigerian healthcare workers got working visas in the past year, making the country second only to India with 42,966 healthcare workers.

    Who will make it stop?

    Nigeria faces an existential crisis with the japa wave of doctors. As the country grows in population, more healthcare professionals are needed. The government needs to act fast with favourable policies that’ll make practicing in the country attractive to doctors. 

    We know our leaders can jump on a plane and run abroad for their medical needs but regular Nigerians deserve access to care too.

  • Japa Plans? Here’s Everything You Can Expect With Immigration

    It kinda feels like the migration gates have been thrown open, and folks are jumping on flights like it’s the last bus to Owerri Main Market on a rainy Friday.

    If you’re also planning (or just hoping) to leave the country, you should have these in mind.

    The passport office is a scam, and airport staff will tax you

    Timilehin, 19

    My passport expired while I was in secondary school, so I needed to get a new one for university abroad. I got to know from my mum that the passport office had this system where people were divided into two — priority list, and those they don’t give a fuck about.

    Luckily, my parents knew someone at the office, so we were bumped up. I know so many people who had to turn down admissions because they couldn’t get their passports. It’s crazy.

    Also, please don’t be seen carrying money up and down at the airport. I left in 2021 but was naive and held dollars openly while trying to check in, and all the customs guys were like, “Drop something for us nau.” Guy, I’m literally your child’s age mate.

    Be well informed ahead of your flight

    Lara, 25

    I left Nigeria in 2021, and this was around the time when COVID-19 was still serious-ish. I had gotten a negative test one week before my departure and assumed I was good to go.

    Imagine my shock when I got to the airport and learnt the negative test had to be done 48 hours before my flight. To cut the story short, immigration delayed me for a while, and I had to pay (almost double what I paid for my previous test) to get tested again, plus the tips I had to give the airport guys to help me make sure I didn’t miss my flight. I still had to quarantine when I arrived at my destination.

    Always ask questions while planning; don’t let the fear of village people make you keep everything to yourself, only to end up spending extra like I did.


    RELATED: How to Japa: Migrating From Nigeria


    Prepare to be delayed

    Wole, 24

    Especially if you’re carrying loads of foodstuff and luggage. I moved to the US in 2019 for my master’s degree. Trust Nigerian mothers, my mum loaded me with foodstuffs sufficient to open a mini Walmart in Texas.

    Although we correctly labelled everything and packed everything like our folks abroad had advised us to, these immigration guys delayed us by checking every single thing. Thankfully, my mum made sure I arrived the airport four hours before my flight. If not, I would have cried.

    If you’re carrying a lot, make sure to make ample time for any kind of delay.

    Corruption is very alive

    Chichi, 28

    I left the country in 2021, and listen, while I’m all for not pushing certain stereotypes, please still hold cash when dealing with immigration.

    I had done the whole passport application process myself online. I remember it was ₦17,500, and all I needed to do afterwards was go to a passport office for my interview and other biometrics. It was supposed to be really straightforward.

    Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. I had to pay an officer ₦12,000 extra to “release” the passport. That’s not all. On the day I was leaving, the immigration guys at the airport kept asking me to “bless them”. Be ready to drop something small, so you don’t get delayed unnecessarily.

    Start processing your passport six months ahead

    Imelda, 30

    In a sane world, getting your passport shouldn’t take more than two weeks after completing biometrics and other requirements. But when my mum had to visit me in New Jersey around 2021 to help with my newborn, we saw hell. We had foreseen a delay, so we started the process when I was seven months pregnant. It didn’t change anything.

    My mum and siblings kept going back and forth the passport office for about five months before the passport was ready. If it wasn’t an issue with finding her details on the system, it was some information suddenly becoming incorrect. We eventually overcame, and she got here when my baby was three months old.

    The passport situation may have improved now, but always start the process early.


    NEXT READ: Not Every Time UK, Nigerians Can Visit These Countries Visa-Free

  • Why Nigeria Is Accepting Deported Criminals to Keep UK Safe

    On June 30th, 2022, our coloniser the United Kingdom’s Home Secretary, Priti Patel, announced the signing of an immigration deal with Nigeria.

    She tweeted, “Our new landmark agreement with Nigeria will increase the deportation of dangerous foreign criminals to make our streets and country safer.” 

    Nigeria wants deported criminals

    The deal is part of the UK’s New Plan for Immigration policy, and Patel’s announcement caused some unease in Nigeria, for obvious reasons.

    Why would Nigeria import dangerous foreign criminals to make the UK safer? It’s not like we don’t already have our own steady supply of criminals just roaming the streets.

    The UK has a problem with foreign criminals

    The UK is easily a favourite destination for legal and illegal immigrants from all over the world. It has one of the world’s oldest monuments, gave us James Bond and there’s always Royal Family drama so we understand the appeal. 

    Sometimes, the foreigners landing in the UK may commit crimes and get into trouble with the law. Such an offender is classified as a foreign national offender (FNO) by the New Plan for Immigration. If the foreign offender is sentenced to a prison term of at least 12 months, they get a bonus punishment — automatic deportation. 

    Nigeria wants deported criminals

    This means once you trigger that release clause, you should be ready to return to the trenches your country of origin when you finish your sentence, or even before then.

    But here’s where the UK’s headache sets in. As outlined in the New Plan for Immigration policy statement, foreign national offenders aren’t interested in returning to their own countries.

    So foreign national offenders use the instruments of the law to file claims in courts to delay their removal or even nullify it, if they get lucky. This was how the UK ended up with 10,000 undeportable foreign national offenders as of 2020. The UK also has 42,000 foreigners whose asylum applications have failed but have refused to leave.

    Nigeria wants deported criminals

    ALSO READ: “When I Got to the UK, I Realised the Meaning of ‘It’s So Cold Outside’” – Abroad Life

    And that’s where Nigeria comes in

    To be clear, the “dangerous foreign criminals” the UK will be sending to Nigeria are Nigerian-born, not random citizens of other countries as was initially feared.

    The agreement between the two countries also affects immigration offenders, not just convicted criminals. It speeds up the process of removing Nigerian-born convicted criminals and illegal migrants. 

    The UK has already deported 13 Nigerians as a result of the deal. Eight of the deportees were convicted criminals, and the remaining five were described as immigration offenders. The UK government has signed similar deals with Albania, Ghana, India and Serbia.

    Why would Nigeria agree to this deal?

    Nigeria wants deported criminals

    The Nigerian government hasn’t released any public statement addressing the UK deal, so it’s impossible to speculate what the thought process — if any — behind the agreement was.

    But the New Plan for Immigration policy statement was clear that the UK would pressure countries into accepting their convicted citizens in an expedited manner. 

    And if the affected countries don’t agree? 

    The UK government could enforce stricter control of UK visa availability to any stubborn country. We can guess one or two reasons why that’s the kind of thing to turn a few heads in Abuja. Hint: It starts with “m” and ends with “edical tourism”.

    ALSO READ: How to Stay Safe in Nigeria — Tips from the Nigerian Police

  • 3 Nigerians Share Their Craziest Experiences With Immigration

    If you’ve ever had to travel with a Nigerian passport, the chances that you’ll run into some problems are not slim. Being a Nigerian means a lot of things, and one of those things is that you’ll get profiled simply because you’re Nigerian.

    We spoke to Nigerians about their experiences with immigration officers in different countries. Here’s what they had to say.

    Image result for airport immigration

    1. Lade, 29

    A few days after Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab tried to bomb an airliner in America and it came out that he was Nigerian, my family of 5 was returning to Nigeria from a holiday in the USA. It was when we got to the airport and saw the news – we had no idea this had happened. At the point of the security checks for departure, which was on orange alert, we submitted our passports and what left the officer’s mouth was “There are five of them.”

    We were searched like we stole America. Physical search, electronic search, everything. The guy that was searching kept apologising profusely that he was just doing his job and we have to understand the situation on the ground. My dad tried to make jokes to ease the tension. And then when they found nothing, they let us go.

    2. Chrissy, 31

    I travelled to Spain on a trip with my girls. They all had EU passports, so I was the only one that had to get a visa. We were having so much fun that we decided to extend the trip by 4 days. Here’s the twist: I’d completely forgotten that I had a 1-week visa. I thought I had a 3-week visa. So I agreed to the extension.

    The drama started on the day I found out about my visa. Coincidentally, it was the day of my initial departure flight and because I didn’t cancel that flight I tried to see if I could still catch it. By the time I got to the airport, the flight had been gone for five hours.

    The next flight was the next morning and I didn’t want to wait one more night in Spain because I didn’t want any problems so I started emailing and calling the Spanish embassy to extend my visa. I don’t know where I got the audacity from, but I sent emails telling officials that I needed a visa extension for a visa that was expiring in a few hours on a Sunday.

    Obviously, nobody replied to my mails or picked my calls. So I gave up and went home, waiting for the police to come and find me. When I woke up the next morning, I thought “Fuck this, I’ll enjoy my remaining four days here. Whatever wants to happen should happen.”

    On our departure date, the guy at the airport saw my passport and called one of the officials to have a private discussion. I remember looking at my hands and thinking, “What will handcuffs look like on these hands?”. Thankfully, they just gave me back my passport and said, “Enjoy your flight.”

    3. Michael, 29

    I travelled from Lagos to Dubai in December 2020 using Kenyan Airways. I was hoping to use the layover in Nairobi to briefly catch up with a friend. Upon arrival at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, I proceeded to the Kenyan Immigration/Passport Control desk to get my transit visa on arrival – this was the norm up until 1st Jan 2021.

    There were about 7 Europeans who were on the same flight with me from Lagos and were also going to Dubai. They were trying to get the transit visa as well. I watched as they were all granted visas. Nobody in immigrations asked them any questions. They simply collected their payments and stamped their passports. However, when it got to my turn, the immigration officer attending to me directed me to an office to speak with the Head of Immigration. I found that weird. When I got there, the guy I met told me I wasn’t going to get a visa. I was furious. I’d literally just seen them give visas to a bunch of Europeans who came on the same flight I did and were also going to Dubai later. I had my boarding pass showing that I was clearly laying over, and only booked a Kenyan Airways flight cos I wanted to meet someone in Nairobi.

    They couldn’t give a solid reason why they were not giving me a visa. I know it’s because they were xenophobic because I’m a Nigerian. So after some time, I asked if I could use a different passport to get the visa. My British passport. If you see the way their eyes lit up when I mentioned that I also had a British passport. The senior immigration officer there literally said, “You should have presented the British passport instead. You know how the Nigerian passport can be.” I was livid.

    I insisted they stamped my Nigerian passport and threatened to write to the African Union about their xenophobia and profiling, and I’d include their names in the report. That’s when they started begging me and telling me to calm down, and that I should just have presented my British passport if I wanted to avoid any drama in the first place. After some time, they stamped my Nigerian passport. I was the only Nigerian on that flight that got their passport stamped, and it only because I had a British passport.