Connect with us

Opinion

Japa: The Courage And Cost Of Nigeria’s Great Exodus

Published

on

Japa: The Courage And Cost Of Nigeria’s Great Exodus

I still remember the evening I first heard the term “Japa.” It came in the form of a meme—“If you’re seeing this, pack your bags”—plastered over an image of a dusty road disappearing into a golden horizon. The joke wasn’t just funny—it was painfully accurate. “Japa,” a Yoruba word meaning “to flee,” has evolved into a cultural and economic phenomenon, serving as a shorthand for the restless exodus of Nigerians, particularly the young and educated, in search of a better life. What was once a quiet movement of the desperate and the privileged has now morphed into a defining feature of Nigeria’s national psyche. It reflects not only a failure of the state but also the boundless courage of individuals who continue to chase dignity, safety, and opportunity across oceans.

Beneath the headline-grabbing migration figures lie deeply human stories, complicated by trade-offs that span continents and generations. When Aisha, a surgical nurse from Kaduna, arrived in London in 2022, she secured an NHS position that paid her over three times her salary in Nigeria. Her new life was a dream on paper—financial stability, functional healthcare, and reliable electricity. But the price was steep: her mother, widowed and diabetic, was left behind with no one to accompany her to clinic visits. Her younger siblings, used to Aisha’s help with tuition and groceries, now relied on irregular remittance flows and prayer. Her calls home, filled with reassurance and cheer, barely masked the weight of her absence. Aisha’s story is not exceptional—it is replicated across tens of thousands of households in Lagos, Yenegoa,Owerri, Ilorin, and beyond.

In 2023, Nigeria received an estimated $20.13 billion in remittances, the highest in sub-Saharan Africa and one of the few bright spots in the country’s bleak economic landscape. Remittances now account for nearly 4% of Nigeria’s GDP—greater than direct foreign investment — and serve as a vital buffer for families struggling with inflation, food insecurity, and crippling unemployment. These inflows fund school fees, hospital bills, building projects, and sometimes entire family businesses. For many, having a child or sibling abroad is the difference between collapse and survival. But money doesn’t hug you. It doesn’t walk your grandmother to the mosque or church. It doesn’t explain puberty to your 13-year-old son now growing up without a father figure.

What’s less visible but just as real is the emotional price of migration. There’s the guilt of leaving ageing parents in precarious health, the pain of missing births and funerals, and the slow erosion of intimacy with friends and siblings. Couples stretch their marriages across time zones, relying on WhatsApp calls that feel both immediate and artificial. Children born abroad grow up with hybrid identities, sometimes unable to speak their parents’ language or understand the values they left behind.

The psychological price of migration is huge. Take Emmanuel, a computer science graduate from Enugu who arrived in Toronto in late 2023. At first, he thrived—new friends, a buzzing tech hub, crisp winter mornings. Within weeks, though, he began waking at 3 a.m., heart pounding, unable to shake the fear that he was alone in a strange land. Migraines set in, his appetite vanished, and he drifted into a fog of irritability and despair—a textbook case of the “Ulysses syndrome,” an immigrant stress reaction marked by anxiety, insomnia, and somatic pains. A 2020 meta-analysis of Nigerian-American immigrants found that higher acculturative stress was strongly linked to poorer mental health outcomes. Emmanuel endured six months of silent struggles before reaching out for therapy, finally realising that the cost of leaving home included the erosion of his well-being.

Nigeria, as a state, teeters between the benefits and burdens of this migration wave. On the one hand, remittances boost foreign reserves, provide fiscal stability, and enhance the purchasing power of recipient households. Diaspora investments are also reshaping the tech ecosystem. Diaspora entrepreneurs in London and Toronto have launched some of Europe’s fastest-growing fintech startups. Additionally, Nigeria ranks second only to India in terms of long-term migrants to the UK, with approximately 120,000 Nigerians relocating there as of June 2024. Nigerian-led startups in the UK, Canada, and the US are channelling capital, ideas, and tools back home, with Lagos fast becoming a West African tech hub despite its infrastructural challenges. Culturally, the country is undergoing a kind of global flowering—Afrobeat now dominates international music charts, Nollywood films are streaming on Netflix, and Nigerian chefs are redefining fine dining in New York, Toronto, and Berlin.

But the cost of this “success” is staggering. Over 75,000 Nigerian professionals have emigrated between 2019 and 2024. The health sector has been particularly hard hit: the Nigerian Medical Association estimates that more than 50% of registered doctors are practising abroad, widening the patient-doctor gap at home and prompting emergency staffing drives that still fall short. In 2023 alone, over 3,600 nurses were licensed to practice in the United Kingdom. University classrooms, once bustling with brilliant lecturers, now depend on visiting professors and part-time faculty. Hospitals are forced to recruit unqualified assistants to fill gaps. In the public sector, civil service talent is drying up, with young officers resigning en masse. The result is a talent vacuum that weakens national institutions just when they are most needed.

Government responses have been largely reactive and uncoordinated. Proposals to bond medical graduates to public service contracts for five to ten years have sparked outrage, especially among young professionals who argue that the state has no moral authority to restrict their freedom after failing to provide basic infrastructure, job security, or personal safety. Some state governments have introduced scholarship retention schemes and returnee investment incentives, but these remain too few, poorly implemented, or overshadowed by more attractive foreign offers. Policy inertia persists because Japa isn’t just a problem of economics—it is a verdict on governance. People are not leaving because they lack patriotism; they are leaving because patriotism no longer feeds them.

And while the Nigerian government tries to cope, Western host countries also wrestle with their own dilemmas. Nigerian migrants now comprise a significant portion of new arrivals in countries such as Canada and the United Kingdom. In Canada’s 2024 immigration data, Nigerians ranked among the top five sources of skilled workers. Western host nations find themselves in a precarious balancing act. Nigerian nurses and engineers fill critical shortages, bolstering public coffers through taxes and consumer spending. In the UK, they are heavily represented in the National Health Service and private care homes. These workers are praised for their diligence, education, and resilience.

However, the systems receiving them are often ill-prepared to integrate them. Many face bureaucratic roadblocks, including slow credential recognition and expensive licensing exams, which delay their full participation in the workforce. Years of retraining blunt the momentum of eager professionals, and discrimination can turn anticipation into anxiety. Others face subtle racism, wage disparities, and cultural isolation. Britain’s new Code of Practice for ethical health-worker recruitment aims to ensure that “poaching” talent doesn’t hollow out Nigeria’s fragile health system, yet the debate over “brain drain” ethics continues amid NHS staffing crises.

Despite these challenges, the Nigerian presence abroad is growing stronger and more confident. Nigerian culture is reshaping Western norms—Afrobeat now pulses through Glastonbury stages; jollof rice trucks line the streets of London; Yoruba phrases are sneaking into British slang; and the children of migrants are rising to prominence in politics, academia, and the arts. In 2025, the UK’s political landscape saw its first major-party leadership candidate of Nigerian descent. In America, Nigerian-American students consistently excel academically, and Nigerian churches and businesses have transformed entire neighbourhoods. These are not signs of assimilation—they are signs of expansion, the Nigerian identity flowering beyond borders.

Yet the question remains: what happens to the country they left behind? Who teaches in the schools from which they once graduated? Who rebuilds the hospitals where they were trained? Who ensures that power stays on long enough to power a mother’s air conditioner? Who stays to fix the power grid, redesign the curriculum, enforce the laws, and tell the next generation that hope is still possible at home?

Japa is not a simple story of brain drain or economic migration. It is a reckoning. It is a mirror held up to a nation that has failed too many of its brightest and bravest. But it is also a thread—an invisible umbilical cord—that connects the streets of Lagos to the clinics of Manchester, the classrooms of Toronto, and the startups of Berlin. And through that thread flows not just money but longing, memory, identity, and love. Japa is not unequivocal gain. It is a human response to systemic failures—economic, social, and political—and to the boundless courage of individuals chasing the promise of a better life. Its actual impact is braided across continents: in the phone calls between a migrant nurse and her mother, in the budget sheets of national ministries, and the urban rhythms of Toronto’s Chinatown.

Perhaps, over time, Japa will evolve from a flight to a return, as seen in India. Possibly, one day, Aisha will bring her NHS experience back to Kaduna to build a clinic of her own, and Emmanuel will reopen his old bedroom as a co-working space for local tech startups. Perhaps Nigeria will invest in a future that gives people a reason to stay, not just a means to leave. Until then, the suitcase remains half-packed, the visa application opens on the browser, and the heart is torn in two—between what is and what should have been.

Thenewsnigeria.com.ng

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Opinion

The Americans Are Coming

Published

on

The Americans are coming and Nigerians are running helter-skelter, clawing at each other. In the space of a week, every Nigerian—Muslim, Christian, non-affiliate—has become a religious Voltron and a foreign policy expert. In the storm of public commentaries, “expert” analysis and social media expressions, it became clear that we are not listening to each other. We are, both Muslims and Christians alike, more spurred by emotions than reason. This emotive state of the nation made me quite reluctant to even address this issue because I doubt there will be any sort of objective reading of any kind of opinion. But in the end, these are issues that must be addressed.

I will try to avoid issues that have been over-analysed across several fora in the last few days. At this point, it doesn’t seem like any Nigerian can be convinced one way or the other whether there is a “Christian genocide” or not, as not many people are willing to change their opinion on this.

So, I will start by acknowledging that even a broken clock is right at least twice a day, and in all his rants, US President Donald Trump may be wrong about many things, but he is right on one issue—labelling Nigeria a “disgraced country.”

What country with any self-worth allows itself to be disgraced by a bunch of rag-tag groups of terrorists, criminals, militias, militants, gunmen, looters and every scallywag with balls? What sort of resource-and-population-rich country allows itself to be in a position to be threatened with the withholding of foreign aid or “military action” by a foreign power over a rascally lot we should have efficiently dealt with years ago?

Our ancestors said one should not look to where one fell but at where one tripped. There have been a series of mistakes and oversights that have got us to this point where our sovereignty is being dragged through the mud of the international village square. We caused it. Our governments did.

The first mistake we made was tolerating the existence of terrorist and criminal gangs across the country. Nigeria has successfully, through gross negligence, incompetence, complicity and corruption, democratized violence. The rise of ethnic militias that were unleashed at our return to democracy in 1999 and the communal violence that we witnessed in places like Kano, Kaduna, Jos, Sagamu, Lagos, etc., and the vigilantisation of the South East region, along with the government’s woeful handling of these situations, set us on this track.

Successive governments’ failure to secure Nigerians at that time was only compounded by the failure to dispense justice after those irrational bursts of violence. Mass murderers were shielded by this lack of justice; their crimes were waved away and they were allowed to continue walking among the people whose loved ones they killed.

This directly gave birth to militias and terrorists hiding under the guise of addressing these injustices the state overlooked. Fulani militias will claim they are avenging the murders of their loved ones and the rustling of their cattle by “Christian youths,” who in turn will claim they are avenging the injustices done to them when the herdsmen raided their farmlands. Even the worst scourge we have had in this country, Boko Haram and ISWAP, claimed they were fighting social injustice and carving out an “Islamic state” from Nigeria for themselves, to be governed by their twisted notion of justice, as their only option. The same arguments are being made by IPOB, who seek to carve out a separate state that they believe will be just to their people, as the Nigerian state has been unjust to them. The Niger Delta militancy, though not aspiring to secession, was fuelled by the decades of social and environmental injustices the region had suffered. This same rationale fuelled the OPC agitations.

Instead of dispensing justice, Nigeria has cavorted with terrorists and criminal gangs, cultivated them for political positioning and nurtured them for corrupt gains. “Repentant” Boko Haram members are pardoned and reintegrated into society without ever facing justice and with no regard for their victims; pro-tempore “repentant” bandits who have abducted hundreds and murdered dozens are presented before the press and treated as celebrities at “peace” events, where they come wearing their weapons like war medals, and leave with them only to resume their killings after a short while.

Our failure to handle this insecurity better—from Jonathan, to Buhari and now Tinubu, who all made campaign promises centring on this issue, and failed to follow up on them—led us here. I have written columns on massacres in Zamfara, Katsina, Plateau and Benue, where the government promises to find the horde of perpetrators and promptly sweeps aside the issue. We have been disgraced by these terrorists and the steady stream of headlines reporting mind-boggling massacres long before Trump decided to strip us naked in the village square.

This culture of neglect directly led to the second mistake—our failure to appoint ambassadors for two years. How any country, especially one that aspires to play a major role in the comity of nations, cannot have ambassadors to secure and advance its national interest is something that confounds. It is possible that the presence of an ambassador in the US, for example, might have mitigated the strength of misinformation deployed to push this narrative. Of course, there is no guarantee that would have prevented the stupendous misreading and oversimplification of the situation by the US government, but there is no way of knowing that, is there?

Other mistakes we have made have included not being deliberate about fostering national unity—which admittedly is a hard task when our concept of social justice is dangerously kwashiokored. Neither have we bothered to properly document the killings in the country to acknowledge the sheer scale of it, to honour and remember the victims, and remind ourselves never to let it happen again. Instead, we content ourselves with ineffectual presidential condemnations.

On the other hand, it would be really easy to dismiss Trump’s posturing and declaration as the actions of an impulsive man, but upon closer scrutiny, it may be far from it. For over a century, the US has lifted from a tested playbook. Most recently, we saw the deployment of the “Weapons of Mass Destruction” and other disinformation campaigns to put US boots on the ground in Iraq, to firebomb Gaddafi’s convoy in Libya and intervene in several countries where the populace anticipated the intervention would improve their lot. Most of these countries and their people have discovered that that hasn’t been the case.

Nigeria must be careful how it responds to this play by the US and not rush into the mistake that Colombia made. In 1928, striking Colombian banana plantation workers demanding better pay and working conditions threatened the interests of powerful US businesses—the United Fruit Company (UFC), which at the time had enormous influence and control over the banana trade in South and North America, generating billions in revenue.

To protect its interests, UFC worked closely with the US Ambassador to Colombia, Jefferson Caffery, who dispatched telegrams to the US Secretary of State portraying the strike as a communist uprising that must be quelled immediately.

Much as it is doing today, the US government of Calvin Coolidge, deliberately misinformed and misled, pressured the Colombian government to deal with the striking workers or risk being invaded by the US marines stationed just off the coast. In its panic to avoid invasion and end the strike, the Colombian government opened fire on its own citizens, killing about 2000 people who just wanted to be paid for their labour in what has become known as the Banana Massacre.

As in that case, a lot of disinformation and manipulation was employed, as was the case in Iraq and Libya, and other places the US had set eyes upon, and as is the case in Nigeria today. Whatever interest is being pursued by this narrative must not come at the expense of more Nigerian lives than are being lost already, but make no mistake, the terrorists killing Nigerian Muslims and Christians must be dealt with decisively and efficiently.

If there is anything worthwhile in this shameful episode, it is that Trump’s words and posturing might have lighted the fire that will force the Nigerian government to act decisively. Our government needs the kick in the backside. If the wails and whimpers of thousands of dying Nigerians and the streams of our blood have failed to convey the urgency of the situation, then perhaps these scathing words might serve the purpose.

It would be a terrible shame for the Americans to come; their words should suffice. Nigeria cannot afford to mismanage this crisis as we have mismanaged our security situation in the last two decades. But it is high time we put this house in order. After all, we can blame Trump’s unilateralism, but there has to be a crack in the wall for a lizard to crawl into.

Continue Reading

Opinion

Rivers: Why Fubara May Fight Again!

Published

on

"No Single-Term Deal For Fubara," Declares Ijaw Youth President

By Ismail Omipidan

The return of Governor Siminalayi Fubara after the expiration of the six-month emergency rule has been widely applauded by many Nigerians. To avoid any unguarded utterances, the governor, on his return to the state, appeared to tactfully distance himself from his army of supporters who had thronged the Rivers State Government House on Thursday. Instead, he showed up yesterday, and promptly delivered a statewide broadcast to the people of the state.

Before his return, there were concerns over the details of the peace deal that paved the way for his reinstatement. While some argued that he would serve only one term, others insist that the arrangement heavily favours his estranged godfather and current FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike.

Wike was on Politics Today with Seun Okinbaloye on Thursday. He declined to reveal details of the peace deal. But any peace deal whose terms remain shrouded in secrecy cannot, in my view, be regarded as fair or just. I stand to be corrected.

For now, it appears that only Wike, Fubara, and perhaps President Bola Ahmed Tinubu know the exact contents of the peace deal or understanding.

However, as a trained political communication specialist, I find that Fubara’s statewide broadcast offers a glimpse into parts of the agreement. This is particularly evident in paragraph 10 of his speech, where he stated: “To those who have expressed genuine fears, frustrations, and uncertainty over the nature of the peace process, I assure you that your concerns are valid and understood.” In essence, the governor acknowledged that the public’s fears and doubts about the peace deal are not unfounded. By validating these concerns and admitting that he understands them, Fubara tacitly concedes that there are indeed contentious aspects of the arrangement.

The governor was, however, quick to add that “nothing has been irretrievably lost; there remains ample opportunity for necessary adjustments, continued reconciliation, and inclusiveness.” My understanding of these lines are these: One, even if there is a clause for now in that peace deal that would prevent him from seeking a second term, his good behaviour and willingness to play ball, going forward may make change their minds, thereby adjusting the peace deal to allow him seek a second term. Two, certain things that he was not too pleased with could equally be adjusted as time goes by, once he showed genuine reconciliation efforts. And by shunning the crowd on Thursday, the governor appears to be ready for a genuine reconciliation.

For me, the only reason Fubara may be willing to fight again is if, after abiding religiously by the terms of the peace deal without reservations, he is still denied a second-term bid.

Already, he has been stripped of critical levers of power: he has no control over the local governments in the state, he is not in charge of the House of Assembly, and, if the feelers I’m getting are anything to go by, he is unlikely to be in full control of his cabinet either. Having been politically weakened on all fronts, it would be unwise and indeed provocative to further deny him a re-election ticket. In our recent political history, the only governor who was denied a second-term ticket on the basis of non-performance was Chinwoke Mbadinuju of Anambra State under the PDP in 2003. So far, no one can say Fubara hasn’t performed, as such, non performance cannot be adduced as a reason should they decide to strike. My point is, if they do, as being planned, it will be on the basis of politics, a development that may trigger another round of political unrest in the state.

With the benefit of hindsight, Fubara would have already seen the end of Wike’s dominance in Rivers politics, if not for Wike’s current status as a minister, backed firmly by the very man who appointed him.

Continue Reading

Opinion

Shola Fasure’s Response To Mayor Akinpelu: Deploying Lies To Attack Truths

Published

on

By Kola Odepeju

I doubt if Shola Fasure will ever cease to amuse the people in his blind defense of his paymaster, Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola who was recently described as “Asín ti kò mò pé òhun n rùn” (the shrew that doesn’t know that it smells) by governor Adeleke of Osun for verbally attacking his benefactor, PBAT. But little can one be surprised about Fasure’s blind defense of his boss because he must justify his earnings and secondly, since he himself lacks integrity, it’s easy for him to always come out to come up with drivels in the name of defending his boss.

Fasure’s continued attempts to distort history only shows that he’s either a poor student of history or he’s simply being mischievous. But I like to believe more in the latter being in his DNA. Just like the leopard that doesn’t change its spots, so will a person given to mischief comes out regularly to ply his/her trade. This is the case with Fasure who himself doesn’t believe his own stories with respect to Tinubu/Aregbesola political relationship. Fasure has been trying so hard to distort history though; misinforming the public that Aregbesola is the one that made Tinubu but not vice-versa, he subjects himself to ridicule each time he comes out to turn history upside down and to do surgery to the already battered image of his boss.

One of Nigeria’s veteran journalists, Mayor Akinpelu came out recently to call a spade a spade by telling the public the truths about Aregbesola/Tinubu political relationship. Of course his narration wasn’t in any way different from what the general public had already known before about Aregbesola and his relationship with Tinubu. There was no addition or subtraction in what Mayor Akinpelu said about Aregbesola. All what he said about him are nothing but the truth. No attempt did he make – in the least – either to blackmail Aregbesola or tarnish his image. So my question is; when has saying the truth become an offense under the sky for Fasure to now come out again from his shell and be attacking Akinpelu, an apolitical person who was just doing his job as a social commentator?

Like Akinpelu said in his article, was Aregbesola not scruffy looking prior to his being catapulted by Tinubu? Wasn’t he a pauper before his path crossed with that of Tinubu? Was his usual and regular wear then not Jalamia? Wasn’t his car rickety and smoky like a locomotive? The point is that Aregbesola was a complete pauper before he met Tinubu, a fact known to so many people – except only Fasure – and a fact Aregbesola himself testified to in some occasions; that it was Tinubu that God used to uplift him. I recall here that Aregbesola said in one of our media meetings with him at the State House in Osogbo when he was governor that “if l had not met Tinubu, l would have also still be struggling like you people by now”.

Ogbeni Aregbesola had also said in a video which is in public domain that after God, he owes whatever he’s today to Tinubu. So only God knows where Fasure conjures his own side of the story from which l see as only tales by moonlight different from reality. His story can only be believed by fools and accepted by idiots.

Comparing Aregbesola’s case with that of Yemi Osibajo, Babafemi Ojudu and other names he mentioned in his write-up is preposterous and doesn’t align with common sense in the least. One, these are people who had recorded appreciable successes in their chosen careers and living comfortably before their paths crossed with Tinubu. They were accomplished professionals on their own as at the time their political relationships with Tinubu started; unlike Aregbesola who was a nobody by the time he met Tinubu. I say this without any fear of contradiction because l was on ground at Cresta Laurel where these people served on the transition committees set up by Tinubu then as the governor-elect.

Two, even though these people may have at one time or the other had disagreements with Tinubu, did they ever insult Tinubu as Aregbesola did? Did they display insolence to Tinubu like Rauf? Disagreements are normal in politics but attacking your God-sent benefactor is the most unwise and stupid thing to do by anybody. This is where Shola Fasure’s boss disappointed many of his admirers including this writer.

In conclusion, Shola Fasure in his warped thinking opined that “Batists have slavery in their DNA”. This, to me, is a fallacious opinion of a mind filled with ingratitude. Rather than proving Mayor Akinpelu wrong with evidence about what he (Akinpelu) said about Aregbesola, Fasure was busy attacking him and calling Batists names.

This is a fallacy of ad hominem. Of course Fasure cannot pretend not to know that politics is about hundred percent loyalty. It’s either you’re completely loyal or you take the exit door. Batists are loyal to Tinubu because he deserves it as he has proven to be a reliable and dependable leader. But if Fasure in his wrong perception of Batists as having slavish mentality in their DNA still holds on to this fallacy, then they’re by far better than Aregbesola’s followers who have ingratitude in their DNA just like their leader.

● Odepeju, newspaper columnist and political activist writes from Lagos.

Continue Reading

Trending