Every year, tens of thousands of young Nigerians move to the UK in search of a better life. Edidiong* (25) came for a master’s degree after his family scraped together every naira they could find. A year after graduation, he’s still hustling for a job that will sponsor his work Visa. The pressure is real, and failure could mean losing everything.

As told to Aisha Bello

I arrived in the UK in August 2023 with a suitcase full of big dreams and a heart full of hope. I was ready to take on the world, or at least, that was the plan. 

My family and our extended network back home had scraped together every naira they could spare to send me here for a master’s degree in International Business Management and Entrepreneurship. Everyone believed in me and expected me to succeed. I believed it, too.

My first year in the new country passed in a blur of routine and cautious optimism. I worked as a healthcare support worker, assisting patients with their social and physical needs and providing hands-on support in hospitals and clinics. It paid roughly £700 a week, enough to cover rent, bills, groceries, and a small amount of pocket money. 

I was surviving and also learning the rhythms of the UK: how to get around, how to live, and how to stretch every pound, while quietly imagining the future I hoped to build.

By September 2024, I had finished my master’s. With my degree in hand, I applied for the graduate visa, which would give me two years to work without restriction. It cost around £3,000 — money I had painstakingly saved over the year. I remember the day the confirmation came through. I felt a small tinge of hope. Finally, I thought, a bridge to the life I had been chasing.

Then the job hunt began.

I thought naively that an MSc would swing open doors on its own.  A polished CV and a degree would carry the weight of my ambition. I pictured employers lining up, eager to hire me. 

I was wrong.

The reality hit harder than I expected. To remain legally in the UK after my visa expired, I needed to find a job that would sponsor a Skilled Worker visa, which felt impossible.

I sent my CV everywhere: Indeed, LinkedIn, and company websites. I applied to any role that seemed doable, including customer service, marketing, sales, business operations, and retail. I prepared four different CVs, each tailored to a different type of role. 

By the time I stopped counting, I had sent out almost a thousand applications, each one carrying the hope that this time, something would finally stick. Responses were so rare,  reminding me how distant I was from finding a job.

Related: I Quit My Job a Year Ago. 500 Applications Later, I’m Still Jobless

And the few that did respond evaporated when they learned I needed sponsorship. Suddenly, I wasn’t a promising candidate. 

I could sense the unspoken calculations in their heads: the cost, the paperwork, the uncertainty. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t a prodigy. I didn’t have years of experience back home; just a couple of internships, and a freshly minted master’s degree, and apparently, that wasn’t enough.

I hadn’t considered this before moving. I hadn’t thought about sponsorship costs, the competitive job market, or my lack of UK experience. International students face a brutal landscape. Millions of graduates from different racial backgrounds compete for every available position, so a master’s degree, along with a few internship experiences, barely counts. 

Over a year has passed. Still nothing. I’ve had to double down on the healthcare job just to survive. It pays the bills, but it doesn’t pay off expectations, ambition, or the sense that I’ve truly “made it.”

Every day, the calendar mocks me. Another year. Another 365 days of existing, surviving but not thriving. The pressure from home hangs over me heavily. They must think I’m doing better. I should be. I should have a proper 9-to-5 job, a clear trajectory, and a semblance of security. Instead, I’m navigating a rollercoaster of hope and rejection. 

I’m at a crossroads. My graduate visa gives me another year. The pressure is crushing. I’ve started to consider every possible way to stay in the UK, even options I never imagined before. 

Could I arrange a marriage to secure residency? Could I study the immigration laws closely enough to find a loophole? Could I somehow fund another degree, perhaps even a tuition-free PhD in another European country, to buy more time?

The truth is, I have no desire to start from zero again in another country. I’ve poured too much time, energy, hope, and money into grounding my feet in the UK. 

Frustration, worry, and anger have become my daily companions. Every rejection, every cold automated “We regret to inform you” email chips away at my soul. Each morning, anxiety gnaws in my stomach as I question my choices, my abilities, and whether any of this was worth it.

Hindsight is ruthless. At night, I lie awake, running scenarios over in my head. Perhaps I should have gained more experience in Nigeria, networked harder while studying, or chosen a master’s degree that offered a clearer path to employment.

I’ve learned a hard truth: as an international student, you start at a disadvantage. The visa clock ticks relentlessly. Every day without a proper job edges me closer to a deadline I cannot ignore. I have to face it: If sponsorship doesn’t work, what do I do?

So here I am, working my healthcare job, and sending out yet another hundred CVs, caught between desperation and determination. I don’t know what the future holds. However, I do know this: I refuse to give up, and I refuse to return home to Nigeria as someone who failed.

Read Next: “It’s Exhausting But It Pays the Bills” — 4 Nigerians on Working UK Care and Support Jobs

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