• Someone you know has left or is planning to leave. 1,000 Ways To Japa will speak to real people and explore the infinite number of reasons and paths they use to get to Japa.


    Madu* (25) ditched his degree in Chemistry to chase his passion for writing, and it turned out to be the best decision. Years later, he shares how he received a fully funded scholarship to study Creative Writing in the USA.

    Where do you currently live, and when did you move out of Nigeria?

    I arrived in the United States of America in August 2025. I currently live in Tennessee.

    What opportunity helped you move to where you currently are?

    I got a funded opportunity to move here for my master’s degree, an MFA in Creative Writing. 

    Before we talk about your studies, let’s touch on your life in Nigeria. What was life like for you there?

    Well, I’d say my life in Nigeria was pretty normal. I studied Chemistry for my undergraduate degree, but I already knew that I probably wouldn’t build a career in it.

    The opportunities in chemistry in Nigeria are quite limited, and the financial rewards, especially in the early years after graduation, don’t always match your expectations.

    So, I had been writing for about a decade, but I didn’t exactly know how to put structure in my work like many other young Nigerian writers. I was freelancing a lot.

    Then, the year before I graduated, we had that long nine-month academic strike. During that period at home, I spent a lot of time on LinkedIn, and that was when I discovered marketing. I realised my skills in copywriting, content writing, and research could fit perfectly in marketing.

    That was how I got into content marketing after I graduated. I mostly worked remotely, which I loved.

    [newsletter type=z-daily]

    What inspired you to apply for a master’s in Creative Writing since you have a STEM background?

    I think the idea started around 2021. I was having conversations with other Nigerian writers, and I became curious about MFA programs. I realised it was possible to pursue structured writing education even if you didn’t study Literature in university.

    At the time, I was working as a freelancer, but I kept researching the MFA space, especially how African writers were navigating it.

    I wanted to see how the programs shaped their writing and what sacrifices they made to get in. By the time I started applying, I had already gathered enough information from following those journeys closely.

    Let’s talk about your application process. What was that journey like from finding schools to moving to the U.S?

    It happened in stages — the application stage, the acceptance stage, and finally the travel stage.

    For the application, it’s similar to STEM programs in some ways, but the main difference is funding. In creative programs like the MFA, many schools in the U.S. offer full funding, which means you don’t have to pay tuition. Instead, you work as a teaching or graduate assistant for two to three years.

    I started by researching schools that offered fully funded MFAs. I found out that a few schools preferred applicants with English degrees, which made my chances slimmer. Others required the Graduate Record Examination (GRE) or specific writing portfolios.

    Because I came from a STEM background, I knew I needed a strong writing sample. I joined an advanced writers’ fellowship put together by SprinNG, where we learned how to write cover letters, personal statements, and academic CVs. I worked closely with a mentor who reviewed my writing sample before I submitted it.

    Application fees were also expensive, around $50 to $70 per school, so I primarily focused on schools that offered fee waivers. I still had to pay the fees for a few schools, but the waivers were helpful.

    Another tricky part was recommendation letters. Many young Nigerian writers are self-taught and don’t have professors from literature departments to recommend them. I reached out to people who had known me for years in writing and marketing to speak about my growth and skills.

    I also had to write a strong statement of purpose. Every school had different word limits, so I tailored each one carefully.

    By November, I had submitted most of my applications. Some schools had open applications until January.

    I started getting responses by March. My first feedback was a rejection, which hurt a bit. But two weeks later, I got my first acceptance, and that lifted my spirits.

    Once you get accepted, you get a few months to decide which school to choose. After accepting, the school sends your I-20 document, which you use to apply for a visa. That entire process can take about 1–3 months, sometimes longer.

    Honestly, that waiting period was the most frustrating part because it’s out of your control. You can write great essays and submit everything on time, but once it’s visa and travel time, you just have to wait and hope.

    For people applying for MFA courses this year, how would you advise them to approach the application process? 

    Focus on creating solid writing samples, essays, and documents. You should also find a community of people that can hold you accountable. Join workshops or writing groups. The process can get lonely, and you’ll need people to share advice and opportunities with.

    You should also do your research. Don’t just apply anywhere. Research the program, the faculty, and even the city. You’ll be living there for years, so make sure it’s somewhere you’ll be comfortable.

    If, for example, you’re applying to five schools, make sure they’re all places you’d genuinely be happy to attend. Many writers tend to prefer tier one schools, but it’s important that you’d still be comfortable going to any of the schools you apply to.

    So, look into things like demographics and how welcoming the area is to international students. Some states have larger international student communities, which can make your adjustment easier.

    Don’t overlook smaller or less popular programs just because they don’t seem “elite.” What matters most is finding a place where you’ll thrive academically and personally.


    What has life been like since moving to the U.S?

    It’s been interesting. I remember waking up one morning, seeing it was dark, and instinctively wondering if there was light. Then I laughed because, of course, there was, since electricity is constant here. Little things like that remind me how much growing up in Nigeria shapes how we think.

    Sometimes I step out and realise almost no one around looks like me, which can feel strange. There’s no generator noise, no loud neighbours, no impromptu street parties. I got to the U.S. two weeks before classes started, which gave me time to settle in.

    It’s a lot of reading and writing. For one class alone, we read a whole book weekly and write responses. It’s demanding but fulfilling.

    The campus is also very sports-focused. Their football stadium is bigger than many football stadiums globally. So sometimes, the weekends are full of games and campus events.

    I’m still adjusting to the food though. I miss Nigerian food. I even miss things like garri, which I didn’t eat much before. Now, I’d do anything to see ewedu and amala.

    On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the U.S?

    I’d say about eight. The structure here makes life easier. For example, one time I needed to work on a presentation, and the campus library had everything I needed immediately. That’s something that might not happen easily back home. So yeah, I’m happy, grateful, adjusting, and learning every day.


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  • 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. 


    Ebere* (28) had her life figured out in Nigeria, but her father forced her to start over in the United Kingdom. In this story, she shares how she found herself working as a caregiver and how she got stuck with a terrible roommate whose boyfriend was abusive.

    Where do you currently live, and when did you leave Nigeria?

    I left Nigeria in  2022 and live in the United Kingdom (UK).

    How did you end up in the UK?

    It was totally unplanned, and I was mentally detached from the whole process. I had just settled into Lagos and was working at a job that I really loved, so I wasn’t keen on leaving at all, but my dad made it happen.

    That’s interesting. What exactly happened?

    My dad had this friend who had been in the UK for years and was running a business there. The plan was that I’d move to the UK to work with that friend, but I wasn’t interested at all because I was really into my job.

    My disinterest made my dad angry, so I had to give in at some point. When we started the relocation process, his friend (whom I now call my uncle) called me, asked for my passport, and told me to take the IELTS, and I just did everything without putting much thought into it.

    Sorry about that

    I was so unbothered that I even registered for the wrong IELTS.  It wasn’t until they were submitting my visa application that they realised it wasn’t the right one. That’s how detached I was mentally from the process. My uncle had to pay for another process where they evaluated my degree for English proficiency instead.

    One day, I got the news that I had been granted a visa, but my reaction was different from what people expected. I wasn’t thrilled or particularly excited about a future in the UK.

    The uncertainty must have bothered you a lot.

    Yes. At that point, I still didn’t know what kind of job I was moving to the UK to do. My uncle simply sent me courses to complete, and I just clicked through everything without reading. After arriving in the UK, I realised I knew nothing about my job. 

    It turned out that the job was with an agency my uncle was helping to run. They were recruiting care workers from abroad to take care of the elderly because of post-COVID staff shortages. 

    [newsletter type=z-daily]

    How did you feel when you found out?

    On my first day at work, I was like, “What have I done?” I spent months preparing to come here, and somehow, I didn’t even know what I’d signed up for.

    I had a job I genuinely loved in Lagos. I had friends and a whole life there, and suddenly I was here, in freezing February winter, doing a job I couldn’t have imagined in a million years. I was deeply sad. My uncle couldn’t console me. I was angry every single day.

    Eventually, I realised I had to take responsibility for my life. I couldn’t just sit there feeling sorry for myself. I knew I needed to figure out my next step, so I started taking courses and certifications to make life here worth my while.

    Things were finally looking up, until life happened. Some unexpected personal things came up and completely distracted me from my goals. Everything hit me at once, and I was fighting for my life, mentally, throughout 2023.

    That year, I couldn’t focus on anything apart from surviving emotionally. Even though it took time, I’m in a much better mental space. The truth is, I’ve spent most of my three years here just trying to stay sane and adjust. 

    Can you tell me more about your life in Nigeria before you left, and why the move hit you so hard?

    Life in Nigeria was typical—nothing extraordinary, but it was good. I had a remote job that allowed me to work from home. I had amazing work friends that I’m still close to, and I lived very close to my family. My sister and I practically lived next door to each other. It was easy to see my family anytime.

    Lagos itself was fun. It was easy to have a good time. I could sit on my balcony, watch people move up and down, and feel entertained. It felt very communal because there was always something happening, always someone to see or somewhere to go.

    That sense of community was the hardest loss I dealt with when I moved here; The UK is the exact opposite of Lagos. Here, people keep to themselves so much that neighbours don’t know each other. Everyone just minds their business.

    You said “life happened” after you moved. Are you comfortable sharing what you meant by that?

    I lived with the wrong housemate. She was a girl I met through my uncle. We moved in together to split rent because living alone on minimum wage is impossible here. At first, everything was fine; We had boundaries, and though we weren’t close friends, we got along well enough.

    Then, out of nowhere, she told me she was bringing her boyfriend to live with us. I already had issues with this guy because he seemed abusive from the little I knew about him.

    That’s insane

    I was shocked. I asked her why she thought bringing a man to live with women in the house was okay. The worst part was that she didn’t even give me proper notice; she just called on the night he was arriving, saying she was on her way to the airport to pick him up.

    How bad was it?

    It was chaos from the first day he moved in. They’d fight and shout so violently that I started feeling unsafe in my own home. It was so bad that I started avoiding the house altogether. I would take extra shifts, go to the gym, and do anything to avoid them.

    I didn’t want to tell my family because they’d worry, but I was in a terrible mental space. Everything ended when I eventually opened up to my parents, but I was already pretty messed up by then.

    How long did this go on?

    That situation lasted almost a year. My roommate’s boyfriend moved out before our lease ended, but my relationship with her was already ruined by then. She apologised later, but honestly, the damage was done. I was already struggling in the UK, but that messed me up more than you can imagine. 

    I’m so sorry you went through that. I hope you’re in a better place now

    I’d say I’m in a much better place mentally and emotionally. I’ve adjusted to life here, even though it took time.

    I’ve learned that even jobs I never imagined doing can have silver linings if I keep an open mind. I’m still working toward my long-term goals, but I now approach things differently.

    Financially, I’m not where I expected to be at this point. If you had asked me in 2022 where I’d be by now, this wouldn’t be it. But I don’t regret how I’ve spent my money so far. The things I’ve invested in were necessary. So overall, I’d say I’m in a better place compared to when I moved.

    I’m glad to hear that. Have you experienced any culture shocks in the UK so far?

    The driving here makes no sense to me. They drive on the left, and the steering wheel is on the right. It’s so confusing, and I still find myself trying to enter the driver’s seat from the wrong side.

    Also, people here smile at strangers on the street, but not in the friendly Nigerian way. It’s an awkward, polite smile that doesn’t feel genuine. It weirds me out sometimes.

    Another big shock is how people here split bills. If you invite someone out, you both still pay separately. Like, why did you take me out only to make me pay?

    On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK?

    I’d say six because life can be better. 


    Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT). 

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  • Someone you know has left or is planning to leave. 1,000 Ways To Japa will speak to real people and explore the infinite number of reasons and paths they use to get to Japa


    Bodunrin never recovered from what #EndSARS did to him, but that trauma led him to accept a scholarship to study at New York University (NYU). In this story, he shares how he got into the world-class university and why he’s missing the most mundane things about Nigeria.

    When did you leave Nigeria, and where are you now?

    I left Nigeria in August 2024 and live in New Jersey, United States (US), but I’m studying at New York University (NYU).

    Nice. What motivated your relocation?

    I wasn’t exactly the type of person who prioritised relocation, but I wanted to experience world-class education. I had also been struggling to get over the hopelessness that the #EndSARS protest filled me with, so it made sense to move.

    I’m sorry about that. And congratulations on NYU; how did that happen?

    A former editor at the publication where I worked had moved to the U.S. on a student visa about a year before me. One day, out of nowhere, she sent me a list of schools in the U.S. and said, “Why don’t you apply?” We hadn’t even talked about it before that. It felt so random, but timely.

    I applied to two schools on the list—New York University and the University of Utah. A few months later, I got admitted into NYU with an 80% scholarship. It’s not a full scholarship, but the good thing is that it’s easier to make money here. I also recently got another $4,000 scholarship, and I’m covering my living expenses with income from work.

    Please share the step-by-step process of how you got the NYU scholarship

    For NYU, you don’t apply separately for funding. You just apply to the program, and they consider you for funding based on the strength of your application.

    In my case, I had to write a personal statement of about 2,600 words because the program I applied to is very writing-intensive. I talked about my motivations in that statement and subtly hinted at my financial situation. From what I understand, they assess your application based on your statement and background, which determines how much funding they offer. That’s how it is with most of the schools in the U.S.

    I didn’t apply for any extra scholarships at the time, except for the Global Journalist Fellowship. It’s worth about $30,000 and very competitive. Thousands of people apply every year. Unfortunately, I didn’t get it, but I know a Nigerian who did.

    [newsletter type=z-daily]

    What makes an application NYU-worthy?

    It helps to have a great CGPA, but it’s not a deal-breaker. My CGPA was 3.6 out of 5, which is about 2.6 on the US 4-point scale. It wasn’t impressive by US standards, but I had solid professional experience– I was already working with news publications from my third year in university.

    The personal statement is super important, especially for writing-heavy courses. It needs to show that you’ve thought deeply about why you’re applying, what you plan to get out of the program, how your experiences tie into the course, and what value you’re bringing into the program.

    Many people go the sad story route, especially as Nigerians, but you don’t have to. It’s better to focus on a personal experience that genuinely connects to your chosen field. Also, don’t use ChatGPT or AI tools to write it; admissions officers can tell. You need your voice to shine through. 

    Your CV is almost as important as the statement itself. You need to show what you’ve done (internships, jobs, volunteer work, even student activism) related to your field. Don’t just tell them you have potential; show them you’ve already started doing the work.

    Thank you. I’m curious, though; how did you end up in New Jersey?

    I moved to New Jersey because the rent in New York is insane. Both cities share a border, and the train ride from my place to school is about 40 minutes. Many students, especially Nigerians and other Africans, move to New Jersey once they settle in.

    Insane rent aside, how has life been since you moved? 

    Education-wise, it’s been great. I can’t say I’m surprised by what I’ve seen, because even though this is my first time in the country, I already knew a lot about the U.S., maybe even more than some Americans.

    I’ve spent years reading deeply and widely about the country. I’ve watched documentaries, read books, and done other things to learn about the country, so a lot of what I’m experiencing now are things I have already encountered in theory. For instance, there’s this scene in Chimamanda Adichie’s Americanah where the character, Ifemelu, talks about how the school system encourages you always to say something in class, even when you don’t have anything meaningful to say. Honestly, I’ve seen that play out here.

    Class participation is a big deal here. In some of my classes, it counts for up to 35% of your grade. And we are 14 in my class, so it’s impossible to avoid it.

    That aside, it’s a very impressive school. My faculty has podcast studios and all kinds of equipment. We are also taught by professors who are major writers in America. I’m talking about New York Times bestseller authors. 

    Oh, that’s interesting. How about your social life?

    I was very individualistic in Nigeria and still enjoy solitude, but I’ve found a community here. There’s an African students’ group at NYU, and they have a WhatsApp group where we connect. 

    Sometimes, I meet people randomly, and we click. I’ve also been to a Catholic church where they celebrate Mass in Igbo, even though I’m not Igbo. When I was reporting a story there, I discovered the church, and it reminded me of home. Even after the reporting ended, I still went back a few times despite it being a four-hour round trip. It’s always worth it because it’s the biggest gathering of Nigerians I’ve seen since I came to the US.

    On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you with your new life?

    I’d say seven out of ten. I’m naturally a pessimistic person; even if you put me in Xanadu (the imaginary perfect place from Eastern philosophy), I’d probably still find a reason not to be 10/10 happy.

    There’s a lot I miss about Nigeria. The food is available here, but it’s expensive. I miss being able to buy Nigerian food without breaking the bank. I miss the smell of Lagos. I know people say it stinks, and yes, it does, but I still miss it. I miss walking down the street and hearing the okada guy shouting something ridiculous. I miss the market women calling out to me to come and buy things. I miss the energy and the chaos.

    People in New York like to say, “If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere”, but I just laugh. This city has about 8 million people, while Lagos has 20 million people in a much smaller space. Times Square is supposed to be the busiest place in NYC, but it feels calm compared to Balogun Market.

    So yeah, I’m happy, but a big part of me still misses home.


     Want to share your japa story? Please reach out to me here

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  • 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. 


    Ben (33) decided to leave Nigeria permanently after experiencing the #EndSARS protests, but the country and its problems haven’t left him alone. In this week’s Abroad Life, he shares how he’s starting life over as a newly married man in the UK.

    When did you move out of Nigeria, and where do you currently live?

    We moved from Nigeria in November 2023 and currently live in the UK.

     What motivated your decision to move?

    Honestly, everything about Nigeria made us consider leaving. I had spent my entire life there, and after some experiences, I realized I didn’t see a future that aligned with the life I wanted. It wasn’t a career move because I was doing well in Nigeria. I was a finance manager in a multinational company, and my wife was also thriving in her field.

    I was deeply involved in the EndSARS protests and the elections, which made me lose hope in the country’s direction. I couldn’t envision a future in Nigeria where I could live and raise a family the way I wanted.

    You mentioned having a good job and a comfortable life in Nigeria. What did that life look like?

    Life in Nigeria was comfortable to an extent. We lived in a rented apartment, had two cars, and had enough savings. I could afford my basic needs and some luxuries, but we still had limits.

    For example, international vacations weren’t easy to afford consistently, and despite earning well, my lifestyle wasn’t on the same level as that of my counterparts in other countries. The cost of living was high, and keeping up with inflation was always a struggle. Even though I wasn’t suffering, I wasn’t enjoying life the way I wanted. So when my wife got recruited by one of the Big Four firms in the UK, we knew we had to move.

    [newsletter]

    How different is your life in the UK compared to Nigeria?

    The quality of life has improved significantly. One major difference is the convenience of basic things. In Nigeria, I spent hours in traffic, queued for fuel, and dealt with power outages, but now, I don’t worry about those things. My commute to work is a two-minute walk instead of the usual five hours in Lagos traffic.

    The extra time has allowed me to focus on myself. I go to the gym, cook more, learn new skills, and even learn new languages. In Nigeria, I was constantly in survival mode, always chasing money because of how fast expenses were growing. Here, financial stability is more predictable. For example, my budget from 2024 to 2025 increased by less than 5%, something that’s now impossible in Nigeria.

    Travelling is also easier. I visited a friend abroad, and the cost of my trip was cheaper than what my sister spent flying from Lagos to Abuja at the same time. That accessibility is life-changing.

    Overall, life is less stressful, and my mental well-being has improved. Ironically, the only time I feel real stress now is when I read Nigerian news and get frustrated about how things are still going wrong.

    Lmao, sorry. How’s married life going?

    We moved about one or two months after getting married. The months leading up to our relocation were spent focused on visa applications and settling logistics, so we didn’t have much time to fully experience married life before leaving Nigeria.

    Since moving, we’ve had more time together, which has been great for our marriage. In Nigeria, my job had long hours, so I didn’t get to spend as much time with my wife except on weekends, but here, we get to do things like walk to work together, have lunch together, and just generally spend more time with each other. 

    Thankfully, we have similar views on money, which has also made handling our finances much easier here. It’s not that we have a lot of money, but we plan and manage it well as a couple. That financial understanding has been a big advantage.

    Did having a partner make the japa move easier for you?

    Everyone’s journey is different. Some people migrate alone and have their partners join later, while others find partners after relocating.

    Moving with my wife made the transition much easier. Coming from Nigeria, where we had lived all our lives, adjusting to a new country was a huge learning curve. If I had moved alone, I think I would have struggled more. Having someone to share both the good and tough moments with made a big difference.

    Also, we moved right before winter, and adjusting to five or six months of cold was hard. I can’t imagine going through that alone. So, if someone is already in a committed relationship, I’d strongly recommend moving together, not just for the sake of migration, but if the relationship is already serious, just do it. 

    Is there anything you miss about Nigeria?

    Definitely the food.  There is no African restaurant where we live. At one point, my wife and I had to travel to London just to eat Nigerian food. It’s an adjustment not having access to familiar meals. Entertainment is also another thing I miss. In Nigeria, Friday nights meant stopping at a lounge, eating grilled fish, and enjoying music. Here, we struggle to find places that match that vibe. It took time to find new ways to have fun. I also miss having family around.

    On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK?

    Ten. Life is beautiful here.


    Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT). 

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  • Someone you know has left or is planning to leave. 1,000 Ways To Japa will speak to real people and explore the infinite number of reasons and paths they use to get to Japa


    Muna (26)  knew her life was going to change the moment she secured a full scholarship to study in China. In this edition of 1,000 Ways to Japa, she shares how she got the scholarship and why China is the perfect japa destination for Nigerians.

    Where do you live, and when did you move from Nigeria?

    I live in Chengdu, China, a city in the Sichuan province, and I’ve been here since 2019. I came to China to further my education and have been here ever since. 

    Why did you choose China?

    This is one of the most common questions people ask me, and I know it’s because most Nigerians prefer to move to the UK, US, Canada, or Europe. For me, it all started with learning the Chinese language. Initially, I was just learning it because it was an available option, but then I discovered that I could work as a translator and earn good money. That realization motivated me to take it more seriously. Eventually, I learned about a scholarship opportunity, applied, and got in. That’s how I ended up in China.

    What scholarship is that?

    I came to China through the Confucius Institute Scholarship. There are Confucius Institutes in different parts of Nigeria, one in Lagos and another at Nnamdi Azikiwe University, where I studied. The process was quite straightforward. First, I enrolled in a Confucius Institute because you need to learn the Chinese language to qualify for this particular scholarship. After that, I worked on reaching a high proficiency level because a higher proficiency level increases, your chances of securing the scholarship ( I studied up to level six). Finally, I took the scholarship exam, passed it, and applied through the Confucius Institute.

    Are there other Chinese scholarships Nigerians can apply for?

    Yes. The Confucius Institute Scholarship is just one of many options. There are scholarships like the Chinese Government Scholarship, the Presidential Scholarship, the One Belt, One Road Scholarship, and university-specific scholarships. These scholarships come with a monthly stipend as well. Most Nigerians don’t realize they have these options and focus only on Western countries, but China offers great opportunities, too. Another perk that comes with China is that it is easier to move to another country after studying here for a while.

    Can anyone apply for a Chinese scholarship?

    Not all scholarships require Chinese proficiency. The Confucius Institute Scholarship does, but others accept applicants with just English proficiency. It depends on the specific scholarship and university.

    What do you do now?

    The japa trend in Nigeria inspired me to start a business teaching people the Chinese language and culture while guiding them through the scholarship application process. If you’re interested in studying in China, my startup provides step-by-step guidance on applying and securing funding.

    What advice do you have for Nigerians who want to study in China?

    If you’re considering applying, my top recommendation is to learn Chinese if possible. It’s not compulsory for all scholarships, but it increases your chances and gives you more options. Also, apply early because applications usually open in October and close between March and May, depending on the scholarship and university. If securing a scholarship seems too stressful, consider self-sponsorship. You’re likely to afford it because studying in China is much more affordable than in the UK or the US.

    How much does it cost to study in China?

    The cost can be specific to each university and course. Tuition fees for a bachelor’s degree generally cost between 8,000 to 17,000 RMB per year, while a master’s degree can cost anywhere between 10,000 and 55,000 RMB per year. At the current exchange rate (about 1 RMB = 200 Naira), this means a bachelor’s degree could cost between ₦2M and ₦3.4M per year, while a master’s degree could range from ₦2M to ₦11M per year, depending on the course and university.

    What are some of the benefits of studying in China?

    One of the main benefits of studying in China is the exposure to different cultures. You meet people from various backgrounds and get to learn a new language. Many students arrive with no knowledge of Chinese, but after spending a few years there, they end up becoming fluent in the language.

    Studying in China also allows you to move to another country if you decide not to stay long-term. Additionally, if you’re interested in business, China offers opportunities to start your own, even as a student. Many people don’t know that international students can own a registered business in China.

    Another major thing is that students are now allowed to work part-time, unlike before when they were completely restricted. The current limit is 20 hours per week.

    How did your family and friends react when you decided to move to China?

    It was actually my dad who suggested I study Chinese. At the time, I was preparing for JAMB. One day, my dad noticed that the university I was attending had a Chinese language department, and he encouraged me to check it out. We went together and got some information, and that’s how I decided to give it a shot.

    When I finally got the scholarship, my family was excited. I didn’t tell many people about my plans. I wanted to be sure I had the scholarship first before saying anything.

    Did you share the news when you got the scholarship?

    Not really. When the scholarship confirmation came in July, I had less than a month before leaving, so I didn’t have time to tell too many people.

    What were your first thoughts when you arrived in China? 

    I tried not to have any specific expectations, but I knew that my life would improve. Still, the change made me anxious because I usually don’t handle change well. Leaving my family behind to go to a completely new place was overwhelming. I didn’t know if there would be other Nigerians at my university since my friends and I had been placed in different schools. I didn’t even know if there were Nigerians in the city, so I had no idea what to expect in terms of community.

    Before arriving, a few Chinese colleagues had told me that the city’s weather was moderate, but being Nigerian, even their “not too cold” was still freezing for me.

    Getting used to the food and adjusting to the culture took time. It was a long process, but eventually, I settled in.

    What were your biggest culture shocks?

    There were many, but the few that really stood out to me included constant stares and people taking photos of you without your knowledge. The differences in the education system also stood out to me. Back home, 70% is considered an ‘A’ in some schools, but in China, 70-79% is a ‘C’. I thought I was doing amazing until I realized how different the grading system was. It definitely made me sit up and rethink how I approached my studies. Another culture shock was how easy things are in China compared to Nigeria. Things just work differently here. It’s smoother and more organized.

    Also, the way people use their phones took some getting used to. It’s normal to see someone walking down the street, glued to their phone, and bump into you without apologizing because they don’t think it’s a big deal. Even after five years, I’m still shocked by it. 

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    What’s your favourite thing about living in China?

    My favourite thing about living in China is how easy life is here. Honestly, life is easy. If you miss a bus, another one will come in just five minutes. If you miss the train, another one shows up in two or three minutes, sometimes even within a minute. And then there’s online shopping— you can order anything, and it’ll be delivered right to your door, no matter where you are. If I don’t want to leave my house for a week, I could just stay in, and everything will be delivered straight to me. It’s convenient.

    Compared to my friends in the US, who are always talking about running after buses or working in the snow, it’s a completely different experience here.

    How happy would you say you are in China, on a scale of 1 to 10?

    Well, it’s been a journey, so I’d say my happiness has changed over time. When I first came in 2019, it was okay, but I was struggling with the food and the weather. I’d probably rate it a five back then because adjusting was tough. From 2020 to 2022, things were really hard, especially with COVID. The lockdown was mentally challenging for me. My school did its best to take care of us, but it was still lonely. But from 2023 onwards, things started to get better. I graduated in 2023, and that period was a real struggle. At one point, I even planned to leave China after graduation. But I’ve outgrown that phase. I’m happier now, so my happiness level is seven.


     Want to to share your japa story? Please reach out to me here.

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  • 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 #311 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    I didn’t have any reason to “hold” money until I was 10 years old and had just got into JSS 1. Getting into secondary school meant I had to take the bus and get snacks during lunch break. My parents gave me ₦50 — ₦10 for snacks and the rest to pay for the bus.

    Speaking of your parents, what was the financial situation growing up?

    I didn’t know much of what went on in my childhood. My parents were teachers, and I just knew I had a roof over my head and food in my stomach. 

    But I realised the true picture of our finances in my teens. We were lower middle class, and my mum handled most of the bills, including school fees, even though my father earned more. He just refused to step up to his responsibilities. 

    Although I could count on my mum, I started trying to make money from secondary school.

    How did you do that?

    In JSS 2, I made paper wallets and sold them. Almost everyone made paper wallets, but mine was different. I painted and drew on the wallets, and my classmates liked the additional details. I don’t remember how much I sold each, but I did it for a couple of months until I lost my own paper wallet with my money inside.

    I tried something else in SS2 —  I made birthday frames with glass and paper and designed them with paint. My dad was also artistic and had a big textbook about different types of crafts. I learned how to make the frames from the book and got my hands on leftover glass from my neighbours’ window louvres. I sold each for ₦100 for a term. They didn’t sell out as much as the paper wallets.

    Was ₦100 good money, though?

    I didn’t have a solid idea of money, so I sold based on vibes. In SS 3, I learnt how to sew. My mum paid a tailor, and I was an apprentice for about a year.

    In 2015, I got into uni and started sewing clothes for money. I took my sewing machine to school and charged a ₦1k – ₦1500 flat rate to make dresses and tops. My earnings from this augmented my allowance —  ₦10k/month — for my first two years in uni. 

    Then, in my 300 level, I pivoted to offering makeup services. 

    Did you also learn how to do makeup?

    I didn’t. I’m quite creative and like doing things with my hands. I started experimenting with makeup in secondary school. I’d wear some to church and paint my nails, then I’d take them off before school on Monday. 

    So, I knew what I was doing when I started charging for makeup services at university. I didn’t charge too much, though. My rates were between ₦500 – ₦1k, and I also took on a few sewing gigs on the side. 

    I ran both businesses for the rest of uni. After I graduated in 2018, I did a three-month stint teaching at a school.

    What was the pay like?

    ₦17k/month for a whole graduate. Plus, I taught five senior classes English language and literature. 

    Anyway, I moved on to my NYSC Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) in 2019. The monthly stipend was ₦19800, which increased to ₦33k a few months before my service year ended.

    I took on a few tailoring gigs during service but mostly lived on my allawee and random cash handouts from relatives. So, I was comfortable. 

    In 2021, I moved to Lagos to upgrade my fashion skills. I couldn’t afford a fashion school, so I went to someone who had studied at one. I paid ₦150k, and I studied with her for a year. 

    I’m curious. What additional skills did you learn?

    Before I made this move, my tailoring skills were what tailors call “free hand” and “cut and join”. During the training, I learnt “pattern drafting”, which is a more advanced process and a better way of making clothes. 

    I didn’t have an income during this period, but fortunately, I lived with a relative, which saved me feeding and accommodation costs. 

    I finished my training in 2022 and job-hunted for six months before I got a job in fashion. The job was supposed to be everything I’d wanted.

    I’m guessing it wasn’t?

    It wasn’t. It was a bridal company, and I was employed as a manager. My initial salary was ₦70k, which increased to ₦100k after eight months. That said, the load of responsibilities didn’t match the salary.

    The job was so stressful and toxic. I was supposed to be a manager and pattern drafter, but I was also supervising all the workers, cutting garments, drafting patterns for the bridal gown embellishments, procuring materials, styling clients and working as my boss’ personal assistant. 

    Sometimes, I had to sew the gowns myself. On top of that, my boss was abusive and an all-round terrible person. My mental health was in shambles at that place.

    I managed to stay at the job for one and a half years because I was fully responsible for myself at that point. My relative had relocated, and I had my ₦350k/year rent to consider, plus feeding and transportation. I finally left just before Christmas break in 2023. 

    Subscribe to the Money by Zikoko Newsletter for more stories like this. It’ll only take a minute.

    Did you have any plans in place when you left?

    My plan was to japa, and I thought it’d happen in 2024. For context, I started considering japa after I completed NYSC in 2020. 

    I wanted to go through the study route to earn a master’s degree in fashion design, but I realised it was out of reach. The only countries I knew were Canada, the UK and the US, and I couldn’t afford them. So, I didn’t put much thought into the process until I came across a work visa opportunity to Japan as a teacher in 2023. 

    This is how it works: Intending migrants apply for jobs at a Japanese company, and if they get the job, the employer applies for a certificate of eligibility to facilitate the visa and travel. The work contract and visa are valid for a year and can be renewed if the company is satisfied with the migrant’s work. If not, the migrant can look for a job with a different company or return to their home country.

    Also, the employer doesn’t pay for the worker’s accommodation, but they support the process of securing one. You can’t do many things without a guarantor, especially getting an apartment, in Japan. So, the employer can help the migrant worker search for an apartment and the worker pays when they arrive.

    Before I quit my job at the fashion company, I’d secured an offer to teach English in Japan. The salary was ¥230k/month (around ₦2.3m), and I was supposed to travel in March or April 2024. However, the company deferred my contract to 2025. 

    Why?

    Apparently, I came in late during the hiring process, and it was too late for them to apply for the certificate. The problem was I’d already quit my job and moved back to my parents’ house. I was so weak and downcast. 

    It seemed like the opportunity had gone, so I tried to get another job offer in the country, but nothing came. I only pursued Japan because the process was easier and more affordable. The estimated cost for the visa, flight and accommodation is about ₦10m, which is still reasonable compared to other countries.

    When I didn’t get another offer, I decided to wait for 2025 and hope the company would restart the process. I was in limbo for the rest of 2024, though. I didn’t look for jobs or upskill. I just took on small tailoring gigs occasionally and stayed home the rest of the time. My mind was just set on leaving Nigeria. 

    Right now, I make just enough money to survive. Sometimes, I make up to ₦50k/month; my only expenses are data and occasional transportation costs.

    It’s 2025 now. Did the company restart the application process?

    They did, thankfully. I have my visa, and I’m looking to travel in March. I’ve gotten the certificate of eligibility, paid the ₦12500 visa fee and raised the ₦10m I need for travel and accommodation through my mum. She took out a loan, and I’ll start paying it back as soon as I settle in Japan. 

    Ultimately, I don’t plan to return to Nigeria. I’ll just focus on working hard so my contract is renewed. Japan also feels like a structured country, and I think I’ll thrive there. However, their immigration policy isn’t friendly. They only offer permanent residence to foreigners after 10 years — no hope of attaining citizenship. 

    If I’m lucky enough to keep getting jobs for 10 years and become a permanent resident, I’ll probably look at other countries to settle in. But let me get to Japan first.

    How would you describe your relationship with money?

    I haven’t really made a lot of money in my life. I’ve generally played it very little and safe when it comes to money. I’m very basic; I don’t spend money on hair, nails, or other things like that. It doesn’t mean I don’t like those things; I just haven’t had enough to indulge. I’ve just been content with what I have.

    That said, I’m looking forward to this new era of my life. I feel like I will finally make enough money to care for myself and be really happy. I’ll be able to buy hair, dress well, and do the things I haven’t been able to do for myself. 

    I’m excited because I probably couldn’t have envisioned a promising future in Nigeria so soon. When I earned ₦100k, all my savings went into paying rent. I couldn’t have unlocked any sort of financial freedom if I stuck with that. It would also likely take several years for me to earn up to ₦2m in Nigeria, but I’ll be making that when I move to Japan. 

    I see. Out of curiosity, are you nervous about starting afresh and alone in Japan?

    Nah. I’m not worried about that. My only concern is meeting my financial goals and securing a contract for next year. It’ll take me about six months to fully repay my mum’s loan, and I should still be able to save about 20% of my income monthly. I can’t really say for sure until I arrive and see how things are. 

    But I hope I will have set aside a good safety net before my contract expires next year and I have to figure out the next steps.

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

    A lot of things o. I’m a girl, and I’d like to be able to afford nice hair and bags. I also have some health concerns I can’t sort out until I make good enough money or can afford health insurance. Hopefully, things would’ve changed by this time next year. 

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

    7. I have enough for my basic needs right now, but I want more. I want to buy property and do big things. I know things will improve after I japa.


    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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  • I wanted to talk to someone who went to unbelievable lengths for love. That’s how I met Mrs. Mosope*(52), a woman who stole from her mother, travelled across continents, and spent two decades chasing a man who abandoned her.

    This is Mosope’s story, as told to Betty:


    I met Adekunle in early 2000, and we started dating almost immediately. He was tall, handsome, and charming, and whenever we went out together, women would always admire him.

    We didn’t come from money, but we were happy. Some of my favourite memories from that time are of him buying rice from my favourite bukka at Ikeja and bringing it to me at my mother’s shop in Mushin. Within the year, our families knew about our relationship and our plans to get married. 

    In mid-2001, I found out I was pregnant. My mother was furious, but Adekunle accepted the pregnancy and promised to do right by us. The problem was that we did not have a lot of money, so we couldn’t even afford to get a place of our own. Having a child out of wedlock at that time wasn’t like it is now — I faced a lot of abuse and mistreatment. My mother threw me out of the house, saying that if I could get pregnant before marriage, I could also sort myself out. 

    Adekunle still lived with his family, so I moved in with a friend in her self-con in Yaba and started an apprenticeship at a hairdressing salon. It was a struggle, but I eventually got really good at doing hair and even started my own business in Yaba — although I had to share a shop with a tailor to afford the rent.

    In March 2002, our first child — a boy we named Dare — was born. He looked just like his father, and we were very happy. My family warmed up to us after the baby was born, but my mom insisted that I couldn’t move back into her house. She kept pressuring Adekunle and I to get married, but after paying the hospital bills and hosting a small naming ceremony, we couldn’t even afford a registry wedding, let alone the elaborate owambe our families had in mind.

    One day in May 2002, Adekunle and I were discussing the future. He had always talked about emigrating to America, but a lack of funds had held him back. When I was pregnant, he had scrounged up enough money for a visa but got scammed by the agent he used. That day, he complained bitterly to me about how much he wanted to make a good life for me and our son, and if he could just touch down on American soil, he was sure he would make a lot of money and bring us over to join him.

    His passion was infectious, and I started thinking about how I could help him raise some of the money. But I had nothing valuable to sell, and I didn’t know anyone who could loan us the amount we needed. Then I remembered that my mom had been buying gold pieces since I was little, keeping them under her bed as savings. I knew selling them would fetch a good sum. 

    So, I visited her under the pretense of letting her spend time with her grandson. As she cooed over Dare, my hands were shaking. I swallowed my fear and slipped into her bedroom, heart pounding in my chest. I hesitated for only a second — then grabbed it all.

    I made about four million naira — enough to pay for a tiny apartment for the baby and me, as well as Adekunle’s visa, travel, and initial expenses.

    Adekunle and I were ecstatic, and in December 2002, he left for Chicago. Our plan was simple: he would work for six months, save enough to replace the gold, and send me the money so I could return it before my mother realised it was missing. 

    Six months turned to eight, then a year passed, and Adekunle still hadn’t sent a dime home — not for the gold, not for the baby. 


    ALSO READ: He Cheated Twice, So I Did It Too. Now I Hate Myself


    In March 2004, I called him because he hadn’t reached out for our boy’s birthday and a woman picked up the phone. Confused, I asked after Adekunle, and she casually said he had gone grocery shopping. Then she introduced herself as Clara and had the audacity to ask if I was one of Adekunle’s sisters “back home in Nigeria.” I hung up without responding. 

    I called my close friend in Ibadan, crying because I didn’t know what to do. If there was another woman in America with Adekunle, was I not ruined? How would I care for my child? At the time, I could barely afford to feed or send him to school on what I made as a hairdresser. My friend encouraged me to visit her in Ibadan with my son, so I did. 

    While I was in Ibadan, everything got worse. 

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    I hadn’t heard back from Adekunle yet and was getting more anxious. So when my phone rang, I picked it up without even checking the caller ID. It was my mother — she had found out about the missing gold. She knew I had to be the one who took it because the only people who knew about it were her own mother and me, her firstborn. She started screaming and cursing at me, threatening to get the police to close down my shop if I didn’t bring her gold back. I fell to the floor in my friend’s house, crying. I felt completely lost.

    My friend was furious on my behalf. Without hesitation, she picked up her phone and called Adekunle. Surprisingly, he answered. She told him my mother had found out about the gold and that if he didn’t want us to go to a babalawo to ruin his life, he had better start sending money that day. He then explained that he was only with Clara for the green card and that once his citizenship was finalised, he would divorce her and marry me like we originally planned. 

    My friend also called my mother and apologised on my behalf because I was too scared to talk to her after that first phone call. Somehow, she managed to de-escalate things until I felt safe enough to return to Lagos. I was so grateful to her for all she did.

    Before I left for Lagos, my friend had a serious talk with me. She said if I didn’t want to lose Adekunle, I had better go and scatter whatever he was trying to do with this Clara person before it was too late. I took her advice very seriously.

    On my return to Lagos, I started doing odd jobs along with my hairdressing to try to get the visa and flight money for me and my son. In 2008, I had finally made enough money for the visas. I paid an agent to help me with the visa applications, but he absconded and left me almost destitute. Thankfully, my friend in Ibadan had married a well-to-do husband, and they reimbursed me for the money. 

    Unfortunately, our US visas were denied. I was ready to give up, but my friend insisted I try again, but to the UK this time. Aside from the fact that the UK visa was cheaper then, she said it would be easier to get a visa to the US from there instead of Nigeria. She and her husband sponsored our UK visas, and in 2008, my son and I moved to the UK.

    I continued my hairdressing business while Dare went to school, and two more years passed. During this time, I was paying my mother back for her gold and also saving up to reapply for US visas. 

    One random day, while on a bus to work, I saw the agent who had stolen my visa money in 2008. Without thinking, I lunged at him, causing such a commotion that other passengers had to intervene. I told them he had stolen my money and left my child and me homeless. To my relief, they took my side, telling him he had two options: return my money or deal with the police.

    He panicked and agreed to talk, so we stepped off the bus and entered a café. I grabbed his bag and emptied its contents, discovering a ship ticket to America. When I confronted him, he claimed it belonged to another client. I seized it immediately, telling him that until he returned my money, his client wasn’t going anywhere.

    Desperate, he proposed a deal. He said he could get me a valid visa to America — albeit under a false name — but it would only cover one person, and I would have to travel by boat, which would take a month.

    By this time, Adekunle had gotten his citizenship after marrying Clara, but he claimed he couldn’t divorce her because she refused to sign the papers. She said she was in love with him and wanted to make it work. Even when he told her about our son, she didn’t care. When he told me this, my head was hot. I was willing to do anything to get to America, so I accepted the agent’s suggestion.

    I begged my boss at the hairdressing salon to help me take care of Dare. I lied that his father was deathly ill in the US, but I couldn’t get Dare a visa, and I wanted to see him before he passed. She was very accommodating and agreed. I left the UK in 2010 to go to America by boat, and that was the last time I saw Dare in person.

    On getting to America, it was easy to remind Adekunle of what we had. He ensured his divorce with Clara was finalised, and we moved to Texas later that year. In 2011, we were planning to move Dare to the US to be with us when I found out that I was pregnant again. We couldn’t afford both a baby and Dare’s visa, so we pushed it back by a year. We made sure to send money for upkeep to him so he never lacked in the UK, but we just couldn’t bring him over. 

    In 2011, we had a beautiful baby girl, Loretta — and then three more girls in 2013, 2015 and 2018. These pregnancies meant that we kept pushing Dare’s move to the US back further and further. In 2020, the lockdown happened. We called our son to apologise again for the delay and promised that once the travel ban was lifted, he would come over to join us. 

    By this time, Adekunle had started a software development job, and I had a beauty supply store in Nashville. But to our surprise, Dare said he had no interest or intention of coming over to the US to live with us.

    I was confused. All the work we had done was to bring him to be with us. He hasn’t even met his sisters in person yet. I want all of us to live under the same roof, even briefly, because that’s what families do, right? But Dare inherited my stubbornness. He said if we send him the money, he won’t use it on a visa. He claims he has friends and other things in the UK, and he can’t leave them behind just because we’re finally ready for him to come over.

    Initially, I was very angry. I thought he was ungrateful, and my absence from his life had allowed him to fall in with bad gangs in the UK. It was Adekunle that made me realise that we were at fault. We had been gone for so long that, of course, he didn’t feel attached to us. Since 2020, I have been begging him to at least visit the US so he can meet his younger ones. He says he’ll think about it and I think that’s progress. His father visited the UK in 2021, so they’ve met, but I haven’t seen him since 2010 and I have no idea when he’ll visit the US or if he even will.

    I don’t regret coming to the US to be with Adekunle, but I regret not being more intentional about bringing our son over. If we had done that immediately after we had Loretta, maybe this situation would have been different. He’s his own man now, so I can’t force him to do anything, but I miss him so much. He said he might spend this Christmas with us, and I pray every night that it happens.


    Leaving already? If you enjoyed reading this story, you’ll like what’s here: I’ve Not Spoken to My Sister in 8 Years, and I’m Not Sure We Ever Will


  • The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.


    How long have you been with your partner?

    My wife, Uloma, and I have been married for 10 years, but we started dating in 2006. So, we’ve been together for 19 years. 

    How did you both meet?

    We attended the same secondary school. Then, we reconnected during the 2006 census exercise. Movements were restricted, but I was a baseline technician with a telecoms company. 

    My job was to monitor the base station and manually restore the signal if the electricity went off so people still had service. That made me an essential worker, so I had a driver take me and my colleagues to and fro work during that period. 

    One day, the driver didn’t come on time, so I decided to walk. That’s how I passed by Uloma’s house and saw her sitting by the stairs. We were excited to see each other again and started talking regularly. Those were the days of MTN Xtracool. We’d talk all night till 6 a.m. I asked her out some days after, and she accepted. 

    What were the early days of the relationship like?

    Really good. Uloma was in her third year at uni, and I earned ₦48k/month — which was good money — but she never brought any financial burden to me. I appreciated that because I was also saving to pursue a university education. She was modest, and the only thing she asked of me was assurance that I wouldn’t waste her time and we’d end up married.

    I finally got into the university for a part-time program in 2008. By then, she was in her final year, and the pressure intensified. It was clear she wanted us to get married soon or at least get engaged. It scared me, to be honest. I loved her, but I wasn’t financially ready for marriage, and I didn’t see myself depending on anyone for money to provide for my home. 

    I wanted to finish school, work for a few years, and make enough to afford a comfortable life. Granted, I still made at least ₦35k/month working as a personal assistant to a public figure while in school and had up to ₦2m in my savings. But I didn’t think it was enough to start life. Still, I relented, and we got engaged in 2011 while I was still in school. But then another problem came.

    What problem was that?

    Uloma’s elder brother, who lived in the UK, started making plans for her to join him, and Uloma started pressuring me to do a traditional wedding so she wouldn’t go to the UK with empty promises. 

    Even after she travelled in 2012, she wanted me to visit her hometown and perform the traditional rites in her absence, but I wasn’t okay with that. She’d left on a visitor’s visa and couldn’t return until she had the proper documents. What if she stayed there for three more years? At some point, we broke up and got back together after a few months.

    On my own end, I began planning to leave the country for my master’s program. I left for Canada in 2013, and the whole thing cost c$10k (₦3m at the time). I took a loan and relied on an uncle’s goodwill to meet that amount.

    Why not the UK to meet Uloma, though?

    The UK denied my visa. It was Canada that worked out. After my program, I visited Nigeria in 2014. Thankfully, Uloma’s visa was renewed, so she also visited Nigeria, and we finally got married.

    After the wedding, I returned to Canada and applied for another UK visitor visa. They approved it this time, and I got to spend a few weeks with Uloma. But then I got a job with a pharmaceutical company in Germany and had to move again. The salary was €2300/month with free accommodation. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

    Unfortunately, Uloma couldn’t come with me because of visa restrictions. So, we’ve lived in separate countries since 2014. 

    Ah. Isn’t that hard?

    The good thing about our arrangement is that the distance between our cities is like Lagos and Abuja — a 45-minute flight or a 10-hour drive. The flight costs less than €100, and I can travel to see my family — we have two kids now — every weekend if I want. We visit each other at least twice a month.

    At first, I did all the travelling because my blue card visa allowed me to enter the UK without a visa. But Uloma has been a British citizen since 2019, just like I’m a German citizen, and we can travel to visit each other freely. 

    Who pays for these trips?

    I do, most of the time. Since we got married, I’ve handled most of my wife’s financial needs, including rent. We have a house in the UK now, so I pay the £480/month mortgage. I also pay my €900/month rent here in Germany. 

    My wife works with the NHS and makes less than £3k/month, but she’s been very helpful financially. She takes up most of the bills without even mentioning them to me, especially if they are for our children.

    I don’t have a set allowance I send to her. She just says she needs money for something, and I send it. Most of my income goes to my wife and kids.

    How do you plan for romance stuff while living in different countries?

    We travel for vacations, and I plan these for when the kids are out of school. Germany is a very organised country, and they encourage workers to plan their holiday dates months in advance. By October 2024, I already knew when my holiday would fall in 2025. 

    This helps me plan trips and save on flight costs. I buy tickets in advance and take advantage of holiday packages. Most of our trips cost around €1k. The most expensive trip we’ve taken so far was to Turkey, which cost less than €6k. It cost that much because we stayed in an all-inclusive five-star hotel for a week. 

    Do you both plan to live in the same country someday?

    We’ve actually given each other until the end of the year to decide where to live so we can be together for the kids. I don’t like the UK, and I’d have loved for my wife to come here. But it’d be a struggle for her to learn German. So, it’s either I join my family in the UK or we go to another country together.

    Do you have a safety net for this potential move?

    My wife and I have a joint savings account where we each save a percentage of our income. I try to do €300/month; my wife sometimes does up to £600. We currently have about £29k in that account. But we’re not just saving for the move. When it gets to £100k, we’ll put 50% cash into purchasing another house and take out a mortgage for the remaining 50% balance. Then, we’ll rent out the house and use the income to pay the mortgage.

    What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    When we start living together, our expenses will reduce. I hope to invest the extra income in starting a business so that I don’t need to be employed by anyone and we can have income flexibility.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.


    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


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  • Kate* (32) moved abroad in 2021 after losing her husband to a preventable death, determined to raise her children in a sane environment. However, her work hours and inability to afford child care make her often rethink her decision.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik

    Five years ago, if you’d asked me if I’d ever leave Nigeria, I’d have said a big no and probably lectured you about the importance of staying to build your motherland. That’s how much I believed in the Nigerian dream.

    But look at me now. I’m far away in Canada, with almost no connections to home and the only regret I have is how relocation is affecting my children.

    My Nigerian dream died on the same day as most other Nigerians. Oct 20, 2020, the day Nigeria killed her citizens for demanding better from her leaders. My husband, Lanre*, and I had given our all during the #EndSARS protests. We weren’t just fighting to end police brutality. In our minds, we wanted to remove all the rotten eggs that were giving our beloved Nigeria a bad name.

    Lanre was just as patriotic as I was, if not more. He would stand at the junction reading newspaper headlines at the vendor stand and argue with everyone else there about politics.

    His favourite thing to watch was the news, and we bonded over the latest political events. It sounds weird, but that was our preferred type of gist since we married in 2014.  

    So, of course, it was a no-brainer that we’d participate in the protests. But then the shooting happened, and everything changed. 

    I think the first time Lanre brought up japa as a possibility was when the Lagos governor went on air to say he didn’t know who ordered the shootings. We’d discussed japa before, but it had always been about others who chose to leave. It’d never been a possibility for us.

    It took me a while to accept his new vision. We had good banking jobs in Nigeria, our two children were under three years old, and our immediate family members lived in Nigeria. My Nigerian dream was dead, but I knew starting afresh in a new place would be difficult.

    Still, I followed Lanre’s lead, and we began the Canada Express Entry process in 2021. We even created two individual profiles to increase our chances of getting the Invitation To Apply (ITA). We wrote IELTS and sold our landed properties to raise money.

    Unfortunately, Lanre passed away four months later. The bus he was travelling in had an accident, and onlookers thought it was better to film the scene than actually rush the victims to the hospital.

    When they finally took my husband to the hospital, the nurses said they didn’t have enough oxygen. My husband was already dead before I heard and rushed to the hospital. 

    I wanted to die. It was like my whole world had crashed before my eyes. I must’ve suffered functional depression in the weeks that followed because I didn’t want to live anymore, but I still had to turn up for my children. I still don’t know how I managed it.

    Ironically, I got the ITA about a month after my husband passed. I was prepared to ignore it, but I told my mum, and she encouraged me to take the opportunity. Nigeria had killed my dream and taken my husband, too. What else was I staying back for? Wasn’t it better to move somewhere that works and secure my children’s future?

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    So, with the help of family and friends, I raised money and arrived in Canada with my children in 2021. 

    We first lived in Manitoba for two years with someone I got introduced to through a church member back in Nigeria. Manitoba felt like a home away from home. Our host was extremely kind and helped look after my children when I had to look for jobs and even when I finally found work. 

    My children adapted well at first. It was a strange land with no familiar faces around, and they didn’t know why they suddenly had to wear heavy clothing, but we were still together, and they were fine.

    But we had to move to Toronto in 2023 because of my new job, and it hasn’t been as easy. I work two jobs and often can’t spend time with my children after they return from school.

    I also can’t afford a live-in nanny, so most of the time, I drop my children off with my Nigerian neighbours after school so I can rush off to my next job. My eldest has complained that one of my neighbours’ children is always stealing his snacks, but there’s not much I can do apart from giving him more snacks. I can’t complain to people who are helping me out.

    My youngest has also taken to crying for her daddy every time I drop them off. I’m not sure if she even remembers him because he died when she was barely a year old. But every time she’s upset now, she asks for her daddy.

    I’m working towards getting a trusted babysitter who can come in for a few hours and leave so my children don’t have to stay out of their home after school. But I also fear it may not be the solution. What if they resent me because I don’t spend enough time with them?

    I also had long work hours back in Nigeria, but daddy was also there, and we lived close to family members, so they always saw their cousins. Even in Manitoba, there was always someone familiar with them. Now, they have to deal with daddy’s absence and spend time with people they don’t like.

    I try to focus on why I came here in the first place: Securing a better future for my children, but I’m concerned I’m failing in the present. What’s worse, I don’t really have people to talk to. Many Nigerians are in Toronto, but there’s no real sense of community. Everyone has their own wahala to face. 

    I also can’t tell family back home about my parenting struggles because I’ll sound stupid. Like, how do you have an opportunity people would kill for, and you’re complaining? 

    Sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve stayed back in Nigeria, but the news I hear daily from back home renews my resolve. I can only keep pushing and hope it all works out soon.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: My Parents Separated After 25 Years of Marriage. I Wish It Happened Earlier

  • Patience* achieved her japa dreams after moving to Europe with her boyfriend in 2022. However, she’s now considering returning to Nigeria because of concerns about their future as a couple.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik

    I got the best news of my life sometime in July 2022.

    My boyfriend, Diran*, had applied for a student visa to study for a postgraduate degree in a European country, and he called me that day to share the good news that his visa had been approved.

    I was excited for two reasons. Diran had applied once before but didn’t get it. He’d also already deferred his admission once, losing a scholarship in the process. Most importantly, I was excited that he was going to take me along as a dependent.

    Diran and I started dating in 2021, and from the first moment we met, it was obvious the guy wanted to leave Nigeria at all costs. We met on a Twitter space where we both complained about Nigeria, and he DM’ed me after. I don’t even think the question, “Will you be my girlfriend?” was uttered. After talking for three weeks, we met up, made out and became an item.

    We didn’t live in the same city, so it was a long-distance relationship right from the start. Our busy schedules also made our communication difficult. We both worked in tech, and Diran used his free time applying to every international postgraduate program he could find. 

    It wasn’t like he had dreams of obtaining a Ph.D. He just thought it was the easiest way to leave. The plan was to get abroad, find work, make money and work on never returning to Nigeria again.

    If anything, I think our joint determination to leave the country was what kept us together. It was all we talked about. We could see that Nigeria wasn’t gonna make it, and leaving was the only option. But I didn’t want to go the school route like Diran; I didn’t have the money for it or a family to support me financially like he did, and scholarships aren’t a walk in the park. It was either a skilled worker visa, or I miraculously landed a foreign job. 

    The period we started dating was when Diran first got denied a visa. So, when he began the process again, it only made sense for him to include me in the visa application. We were committed to each other and knew our journey together would involve relocating at some point, so why not just start then?

    Technically, Diran is my husband. We had to forge marriage papers to strengthen my dependent application. He’d jokingly asked if we should get married for real, but I thought it was too quick. Marriage isn’t something you run into so fast like that. My parents wouldn’t even have approved the quick wedding. 


    ALSO READ: I Wanted to Get Married at 21 to Escape My Parents


    Diran and I travelled to Europe in September 2022, but my parents thought I travelled alone. There was no way to explain cohabitation to my very Nigerian parents. 

    But I was excited. I had finally achieved my japa dream. Things could only get better.

    The first few months abroad were great. I kept my tech job in Nigeria, so I only picked up a few cleaning shifts to make extra cash. Diran was also making some money as a research assistant at his school. I hoped, with time, I’d get a proper job, and we could work towards permanent residence. But our relationship started to suffer.

    Living together highlighted all our differences. For one, Diran is a morning person who wants to exercise once he wakes up and plays music out loud — he doesn’t “believe” in headphones. I’m very grumpy in the mornings, and all the noise he makes annoys me to no end. I told him about it, and he tried to reduce the volume of his music, but we stay in a very small apartment, and his workout movements still wake me up.

    Diran also became more fixated on money. He’d regularly miss classes to take under-the-table gigs because there was a limit to the number of hours he could work on a student visa. That caused a lot of our fights. I didn’t understand why he’d jeopardise his degree. Why couldn’t he just wait to get the degree and use it to get a better job?

    His long hours also meant he was hardly around, and we became almost like roommates. Our constant arguments on just about everything didn’t do much for our relationship either. We could be together in a room but would be on our phones throughout that time.

    That’s why, as early as 2023, I’d already begun considering ending the relationship, but I worried Diran would think I just used him to get to Europe or he’d try to remove me from his visa. So, I stayed. I didn’t even have anywhere else to go. I’m sure he also noticed that the relationship wasn’t working again, but he didn’t address it.

    I suggested we go on a break early this year, and Diran agreed. That was a foolish idea, though, because we’re still roommates, and konji pushed us back together after a week. But we aren’t even together in the real sense of the word. Sex is the only thing we have in common.

    I’ve decided now that I’m really going to leave the relationship, but I’m a bit confused about how to go about it. It’s the worst possible time to discuss a break up. Diran failed some exams last year and had to resit. He just recently learned that he failed those resit exams, and it’s looking like he might not get his postgraduate degree. If that happens, he might lose his visa, and that’ll affect me too.

    I feel like asking to break up now would just be me kicking someone who’s already down. On the other hand, I know I’ll still leave one day, so won’t that be interpreted as I just hung around because of visa? 

    I don’t mind returning to Nigeria. That might even be my only option. Like I said earlier, I don’t have the money to apply to a university and switch to a student visa. Pursuing a visitor’s visa is also a waste of time. I’ve tried applying to jobs here that might help me stay, but I haven’t been lucky. I think it’s better if I leave now before Diran has visa issues so it won’t affect my chances of re-applying if I ever need to. 

    Nigeria is probably at the worst it’s ever been, and I might regret returning later, but I’m just hoping everything will work out. I just have to figure out how to break up with Diran first.

    *Names have been changed, and specific locations removed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: The Nigerian Dream Is Dead. Why Did I Move Back Here?

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