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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. 

    Chike* (32) and his wife were struggling to pay bills despite being two medical professionals in a no-child, two-income household. In this story, he shares how he left that life behind to become a cleaner in the United Kingdom and what life has been like in his first six months there.

    This model is not affiliated with the story in any way

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

    I live in the United Kingdom. I left Nigeria in 2025. I’ve only been here for about six months.

    What inspired you to leave?

    First of all, I don’t even think of it as leaving. I would say I escaped Nigeria. My reason for escaping was the search for better circumstances, for a better life.

    What was life like in Nigeria?

    Life in Nigeria was hard, with little to no reward for the stress. I am a radiographer and sonographer. My wife is a nurse. We don’t have children yet. Even though we were two working medical professionals, it was still difficult to pay the bills. 

    We couldn’t even make rent sometimes. We could barely get through the month without exhausting both of our salaries and sometimes having to take on debt.

    That’s insane. Did both of you travel or just you?

    Both of us. She actually moved first. She got a job as a nurse with the  National Health Service (NHS), and I joined her a couple of months later.

    I had registered and gotten licensed to practise radiography in the UK, but getting a job here proved difficult. Many employers still want UK experience.

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    So what did you do?

    I looked for other jobs. The first job I got was as a cleaner at a warehouse. 

    Wow! 

    I know, right? But I showed up with pride every day and took my job seriously. The shocking part is that I earned more cleaning in a week in the UK than I did in a month as a radiographer in Nigeria.

    In my first two months in the UK, I worked many different jobs in all sorts of places. Really labour-intensive jobs at packaging companies, food production companies, bottling companies, warehouses, anywhere that was hiring.

    But those were stressful. It was starting to tell on my body. So I got a job in care. Very recently, I finally got a job as a sonographer. I’m really happy about it because it was very difficult. To be honest, when I left Nigeria, I never imagined it would take me up to six months to get the job, considering all the experience I had. 

    Sometimes I just think about how hard it must be for my colleagues applying from Nigeria. The process is just getting tougher for immigrants.

    Congratulations on the new job. Any long-term plans?

    My goal is to progress within the NHS, do a master’s degree and specialise. I’m hoping to have started and maybe even finished my master’s within the next three years. My wife and I are trying to time it so we start our master’s together. That way, when we’re studying, we can both encourage each other.

    I’m really grateful for the grace of having a partner in all of this. Our ideals, goals and both short-term and long-term plans are all in alignment. That has been amazing.

    You called leaving Nigeria “escape.” Any possibility of a return at some point?

    If it weren’t for family back home, I wouldn’t be looking forward to coming back to Nigeria anytime soon. So the plan is to visit once in a while after we’re settled.

    To go back permanently, I don’t see that happening for the foreseeable future. The only thing that would ever make me seriously consider moving back would be a genuine and very drastic change in the conditions back home. The current Nigeria, as it is, is not a place I want to be.

    You’ve only been in the UK for a short period. But apart from your wife, have you started to build a support system?

    I’m naturally a bit reclusive, so to be honest, currently, my wife is really my only support system here. Even the few Nigerians I’ve met here were introduced to me by my wife. They are her colleagues and friends, and I guess they are sort of my friends by extension.

    Let’s talk about your experiences in these first six months. Any culture shocks?

    When I got off the plane, the first thing that hit me was the cold. I was mentally prepared for it to be cold, but my body clearly wasn’t. It took me a few weeks to adjust.

    I’ll say the stereotype about their food being bland isn’t dishonest. They don’t do spicing as we do back home. We mostly cook Nigerian food at home. Unlike my wife, I’m open to experimenting and trying new things. So I’ll always try British cuisine. Some of them are downright horrible, but some are actually very good.

    There’s something I’d heard about the culture here, and I’ve seen it for myself. People can be polite, smile with you, meanwhile they figuratively stab you in the back. But I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. Even when I can tell the smile is fake, I still appreciate it. I feel like even a fake smile can make someone feel a bit better.

    And honestly, I think it’s part of why their system works. There are aspects of the culture I really appreciate. For example, even superiors at work still have to respect you and treat you correctly. Because of that, every job retains the dignity of the person.

    I said I was proud of my first job here as a cleaner. Back in Nigeria, it would be unimaginable for someone of my academic standing to accept such a job with pride. It would be considered embarrassing, and you’d be paid next to nothing. But here, even a job like that pays a livable wage.

    So while there are cultural differences that take some getting used to, I can’t criticise them because I think it’s all part of why their system works.

    Let’s talk about highlights and lowlights. What has been your worst experience so far?

    My worst experience was a very long warehouse shift. Twelve hours of back-breaking work with only one hour of an unpaid break. To make things worse, the bus that was supposed to take me home never left the station that day. I had to trek for almost two hours to the next train station. That day was just the worst.

    Sounds horrible. What has been your best experience?

    My best experience was getting the NHS sonography job. That was the moment I finally felt like I had arrived. After six months, I felt like I could start my life here.

    It’s like in the journey of my life, I was travelling down a smooth road, then when I got here, I turned onto a very rough side path. I had to take that path for six months. When I finally got this job, I felt like I’d started to turn back onto the smooth road again.

    The process was tough. It involved a physical interview where I had to perform a live ultrasound scan in front of a four-person panel of British professionals. It was nerve-racking, especially because it had been over five months since I left Nigeria, so I was out of practice.

    Honestly, I was doubting myself. It was the first time I’d gotten to the interview stage of any of my applications. I knew there were many other applicants. I didn’t have UK experience. So I was nervous.

    It had been so difficult getting to that stage. If I didn’t get it, I didn’t know how long it would take me to get another. So it felt like a lot was riding on it. I tried not to think about it too much so I could manage my disappointment if I didn’t get it. My wife was more confident than I was. She believed in me more than I believed in myself.

    When the acceptance mail came, I screamed the whole house down. I bet my neighbours thought something was wrong. That was my best moment so far.

    I can imagine. Congratulations again. On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK and why?

    I’d say a solid eight point five. My major reason for leaving Nigeria was to seek a better quality of life. I’m not looking to work less, but I want to actually see the fruits of my hard work. I don’t want to be living to work, I want to work for a living. Here, I feel my hard work is rewarded.

    As a radiographer in Nigeria, I could barely afford my own needs. But here, I can even help out family back home.

    It doesn’t feel like a fool’s dream to plan towards buying our own home in a few years. You don’t have to save two years’ salary untouched before you can afford an old car just to commute. If we live frugally for two to three months, we should be able to get at least a fairly used car if we want.

    A lot of the things you’re conditioned to see as luxury back home are considered basic here. So it’s just a much better quality of life.

    It’s not a ten because I still think about my family in Nigeria. Even if you escape a dungeon and you still have family there, then a part of you is still in that dungeon. So even as things get better for me, I still have to put in extra effort to help make things better for them.

    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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  • 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. 

    Collins (36) always believed in his potential. After he walked away from Igba Boy and put himself through University, he found that Nigeria stifled that potential, so he moved to the UK. In this story, he shares the differences between life in Nigeria and the UK, the culture shocks, and how childbirth and parenthood feel vastly different in the UK.

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

    I live in the United Kingdom now. I left Nigeria in 2022.

    What inspired you to leave?

    I just felt like I wasn’t reaching my full potential in Nigeria. I had an unconventional path, and I was determined to do better for myself. So when it started to feel like I couldn’t achieve the things I wanted back home, I decided to go where I could.

    You said you had an unconventional path. Could you explain?

    After secondary school, I didn’t go straight to university. I spent four years in the Igbo business apprenticeship system we call Igba Boy.

    I still remember the night I finished my last secondary school exam. My dad sat me down and told me I wouldn’t be going to university. He just couldn’t afford it. So in 2005, I went to serve a master at Balogun Market in Lagos. I was there until 2009.

    The usual agreement was to serve for seven years, after which your master would “settle” you with a fully stocked shop and some capital, about ₦2 million back then, which was a lot. But we had a falling out, so I left after four years.

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    What happened?

    I’d managed to save about ₦38,000, and he found out. He said the money was his because, in his words, “whatever belongs to the boy belongs to the master.” I didn’t agree. So we parted ways. That meant I wouldn’t get the full settlement, but I’d already made up my mind. My heart was never really in it. I wanted to go to school.

    In the end, he gave me ₦250,000. I added that to my savings and used it to put myself through school. I wrote the General Certificate of Education (GCE) and Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME) exams and got into Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU).

    That’s impressive. When did you start feeling like you weren’t meeting your potential?

    Almost immediately after my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) service year. I moved back to Lagos with some savings and stayed with a friend, but the money started running out fast. I was applying for jobs and getting nothing. It was frustrating. That wasn’t how I pictured my life.

    I started thinking, “What if people laugh at me?” Like, I left Igba Boy to go to school, and now I’m unemployed. If I’d stayed, I’d probably have my own shop by now, with boys under me.

    Eventually, I got a job at an insurance company in 2018. The starting salary was just ₦40,000. And from what I saw of the office politics, I knew I wouldn’t go far there.

    At that same time, a friend got a job abroad with one of the Big Four. That was my lightbulb moment. I thought, “I need to leave this country.” So I started saving and applying to schools abroad.

    How did that go?

    I actually got into a German university on a scholarship. But it didn’t work out.

    I did the first year remotely from Nigeria because of COVID-19 travel restrictions. By the second year, I was supposed to move to Germany, but even though the scholarship covered tuition, I had to fund my travel and show €10,000 as proof of funds. I didn’t have that kind of money, so I dropped out.

    Luckily, I’d met my wife-to-be around that time. We were both planning to japa, so we decided to work on it together.

    Did you get married in Nigeria?

    Yes, we did. We even had our first child there. After the wedding, we agreed she’d go to school while I worked. She got a partial tuition fee scholarship to a UK university, so we moved, and I found a job.

    What do you do now?

    Finance. When we got here, we had mentors who advised us. I told them I had experience in programme management and insurance, and they said, “Go into finance. That’s where the money is.”

    So that’s what I did. I’m working now and also doing my certifications. I’ve finished  Association of Accounting Technicians (AAT) Level 2 and Level 3 certifications, and I’m currently on Level 4, working towards becoming a Member of the Association of Accounting Technicians (MAAT). That’s a designation that you’re a qualified accounting technician in the UK. Afterwards, I’ll start my Associate Chartered Accountant (ACA) certification with the Institute of Chartered Accountants in England and Wales (ICAEW) to become chartered.

    Nice. Have you been back to Nigeria since you left?

    Nope.

    Any plans to return?

    Maybe for a visit. But definitely not to stay.

    So the UK is home now. What’s your support system like?

    We have Nigerian friends around, but I was intentional about not relying only on the Nigerian community. We’ve made friends from other countries, too. Honestly, I’ve been let down more by Nigerians here than by others.

    For example, I tried joining a group in my church, but it felt like we were always being asked to contribute money for one thing or the other. And it was just one guy pushing it. I got tired and left.

    Are there many Nigerians where you live?

    Oh yes. We live in one of the most diverse cities in the UK. There are lots of Nigerians and Indians, especially. So the Nigerian community here is big.

    But one thing we noticed early on is that there’s this culture where Nigerians who’ve been here longer expect some kind of special respect from new arrivals.

    So, you had a kid in Nigeria and another in the UK. How do those experiences compare?

    They’re worlds apart. In the UK, it’s not just about the mother and baby; they actually care about the man too.

    During antenatal visits, they ask the man, “How are you coping? How are you dealing with this? Do you need help? Do you need counselling?” They even gather all the men in one room to teach us how to support our wives. They ask about financial pressure and, if you’re struggling, they’ll tell you where to get free food like milk and eggs.

    They also check if your house is suitable for a newborn. They’ll come around to inspect things like mold on the walls, and if they find any, they’ll contact the council to fix it.

    Counsellors randomly call just to check in. At first, I found it invasive. But it really helps you prepare mentally. Having a child is a big deal. So it’s really great that there’s actual support to help men be in the right shape to then support their wives through it.

    The biggest difference is the structure. As long as you have paid the annual NHS surcharge, all healthcare services, including childbirth, are covered. Each family gets their own suite. I was surprised when I followed my wife to the hospital and there was a couch-bed for me too.

    They also offer after-birth support. They come to check on the mother and baby to make sure she’s not dealing with postpartum depression.

    In Nigeria, once you’ve paid your bill and been discharged, that’s it. Goodbye. Let the next person come in. It’s like a factory. Come in, push out your baby, move on.

    If I had to sum it up, I’d say Nigeria is still very far behind. So very far.

    The UK childbirth experience sounds better. But what about raising the child?

    That depends on what you’re looking at.

    My wife and I both work. Here, the man gets about four to six weeks paid leave, and the mother gets around nine months to care for the child.

    My mother-in-law came to help for six months, but she had to return before her visa expired. So we had to start taking the child to a nursery, which is very expensive. It’s not like Nigeria, where you can easily get help from your mum, sister, or a paid assistant.

    But my eldest, who’s in school, goes for free. And if there’s any health issue, you just take the child to the hospital for free. Children under seven don’t pay for NHS services.

    So yeah, it’s easier in some ways and harder in others.

    They say it takes a village to raise a child. Does being far from extended family in Nigeria bother you?

    Honestly, no. It does take a village, but I feel like we have that village here. It’s just made up of different people.

    If anything happens to your child or someone reports something, that’s when you realise there’s a whole community looking out for them.

    At school, teachers and counsellors don’t just talk about academics. They talk to the children about their welfare and home life. They reason with them like they’re adults.

    So yeah, the community here is different. In Nigeria, the support system is family-based. Here, there’s a different type of family that doesn’t share blood with you, but they’re invested in your child’s wellbeing.

    Recently, there’s been a lot of anti-migration talk in the West. Does that make you uncomfortable?

    Yes and no. My wife has actually been worried. You come here with plans to stay long enough to get Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR), and then you start hearing far-right people saying they might scrap it. It’s scary to think they can just take something away that you’ve spent time and money chasing.

    But me, I’m not too bothered. When I first got here, a lot of people told me to go into care work. I refused. As a matter of principle, I will not come here and basically be a slave for white people after my ancestors were already brought here in chains. My ancestors didn’t wear shackles so I could come and wash infirm white people just to get ILR.

    People said I had an ego. But it’s not ego. I just believe labour is capital. I want to develop myself to the point where I have the skills to be a global citizen. So I’m focused on becoming a chartered accountant.

    Even if regular people don’t know it, the politicians do. They know they can’t survive without skilled migrants. If not, countries like China will leave them behind, and they’ll become irrelevant in the global economy.

    They need skilled migration. All this anti-immigrant talk is just politics.

    That may be true, but that kind of politics creates tension. Have you or your family experienced racism?

    No, but I think that’s because we live in a very diverse city. I’ve heard stories from people who live in mostly white areas.

    What were your biggest culture shocks when you moved?

    People actually obey the law. I mean the small things like traffic lights. On buses, there are seats for old people, people with disabilities, or those carrying children. If you sit there and you’re not supposed to, the driver will stop the bus and tell you to stand up. You either find another seat or you stand and hold the railing.

    Another shock was at work. In Nigeria, every superior is “oga” or “sir.” Here, you call your boss by their first name. You can correct their mistakes too. They actually expect and want you to. Try that in Nigeria and see what happens.

    They also don’t care much about religion. As a Christian, I feel like the odd one out. In Nigeria, if you say “Jesus is not real,” people will look at you like you’re mad. Here, it’s the opposite. If you say “Jesus is real,” that’s when people will look at you funny.

    I was also shocked by how open people are about their sexuality. I remember being in London and seeing two men kissing passionately in public.

    Also, they don’t believe it’s only the man’s job to provide. I was talking to a colleague about mortgages, and he said, “Your wife lives in the house too, so she should pay her share.” They split bills and chores. If the woman does the dishes and laundry, the man takes out the bins and vacuums.

    There’s this strong sense of responsibility. If you use something, you contribute. One time, I bought coffee for the office at Tesco. Next thing, people started dropping money on my desk. In Nigeria, they’d just watch you and label you the mugu who’ll keep giving them free coffee forever.

    Another thing I noticed is that white colleagues will gist with you in the office about things like sports, weather, and family life, but never politics or religion. And in public, they act like they don’t know you. They’ll see you and look away.

    I had to address it during a team meeting. I told them, “If I greet you in public and you ignore me, don’t bother talking to me in the office.” Since then, they greet me when they see me outside.

    Going to church was another surprise. We’re Catholic. In Nigeria, mass is at least two hours. Our first mass here lasted just 45 minutes. We were shocked.

    It sounds like a very different life compared to Nigeria. On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK—and why?

    It’s a ten.

    First, peace of mind. I remember calling emergency services for my child. Within minutes, an ambulance, two police cars, and a private car with a doctor showed up. Another time, my neighbour called about a fire, and four fire trucks came.

    Second, this is a country that works. I’m not even a citizen yet, but I’m allowed to vote. I know my local representative. I have the number for their office, and I can call if I’m not happy about anything. I once wrote to the council asking for a breakdown of how my taxes were being spent. Two days later, they sent me a full report.

    So yeah, I’m really happy here. It’s definitely a ten.

    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).

    Before you go, help us understand how you and other young people feel about the 2027 general elections by taking this 10-minute survey.

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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. 

    Chioma* (41) was not looking for love, but she decided to give Patrick* a chance. In this story, she shares how his rush for a quick marriage and prolonged trip to the US exposed his ulterior motives.

    This model is not affiliated with the story in any way

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

    I live in the United Kingdom. I left Nigeria in 2021.

    What inspired you to leave? 

    It was a mixture of things: I earned about  ₦200,000 to ₦250,000, around 2018 and 2019 as a nurse in Nigeria. But things were getting harder and it felt like I was just coasting in life. It was so bad I resorted to having roommates because I couldn’t afford to rent a place by myself.

    I had also just gotten out of a six-year relationship and needed a change.

    Additionally, two of my colleagues travelled out around that time. One to the U.S., the other to the U.K.; they told me about the process and I decided I’d travel.

    How does your life in the UK compare to your life in Nigeria?

    Well, I used to stay in Lagos, and you know Lagos is crazy. I would wake up as early as 4:30 am to leave for work. After work, I would wait until around 7 pm before leaving the office so the traffic would have lessened. I’ll end up getting home around 9:30 pm and then have to do it all over again the next day. I kept getting sick as a result and realised it was not feasible anymore.

    Here, I live in a town where life is simple. People are friendly, and nobody cares if you’re rich or poor. Life is easy. My health is better, and I even have time to go to the gym. In fact, people don’t even believe my age when I tell them because I don’t look it. 

    Mostly, I go to work, I go to church, and I take walks. If I weren’t speaking to you right now, I would be at the seafront just looking out at the sea and chatting with people. Life is calmer.

    I like to travel and it’s easier to travel to other countries from the UK. All I have to do is think of  where I would like to go, get the visa and go there.

    Since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten a Schengen visa, an American visa and a Canadian visa. I travel wherever I want for brief holidays. I travel two or three times a year.

    That’s so cool! Let’s talk about love and relationships. How’s your dating life?

    I’ve found  most relationships in the UK are transactional. Everybody’s trying to get something from you. Once Nigerians hear that you live in the UK, the first thing they ask is if you are a student. If you are, they don’t want to talk to you. 

    But if you have Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR), then they’ll want to talk to you. As soon as they hear you’re a nurse, they become interested because it’s very easy to visit or stay in the UK as a nurse’s spouse. It feels like people see nurses as a poverty alleviation scheme.

    Nigerians in the UK come into your life and they love-bomb you because they want something. It’s always transactional. If a Nigerian approaches me now, even if he’s a British citizen, I’m not interested.

    Right now, I’m not even interested in dating at all. I have my peace and I like it.

    Is there a particular experience behind this dating policy?

    Yes, his name is Patrick*.

    When I left Nigeria, I had just broken up with someone after a six-year relationship. So I wasn’t looking to date. I wanted to focus on myself. Then  a Nigerian colleague started telling me about her husband’s childhood friend who had seen my picture and wanted to meet me.

    I was hesitant at the time but she kept on talking about the guy.  I was like, “Okay, let me just see the guy.” So she sent me his picture and contact, and we started talking.

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    So how did that go?

    I was three years older than him but I told him my age early on and he said he was okay with it. 

    He was a student but I didn’t mind. Most people shy away from students because they think students just want to get married to you to get papers. He had graduated and he was on his postgraduate visa. However, he wasn’t really doing anything.

    He was a care worker but he was what they call “bank staff.” It means you’re basically on standby to cover shifts for actual staff when they call in sick or something. So you don’t really have a contract with a hospital. 

    I told him he needed to find a stable job because he couldn’t rely on that long term. I rewrote his CV, took his details and started  applying to  jobs for him.

    Did he get any of these jobs?

    No. Out of 20 I helped him apply for, he only got callbacks from six. But when I tried to help prepare him for them, he refused. You know how men behave. He said I shouldn’t  tell him what to do. He ended up not getting this six either.

    Did your relationship get serious?

    I’m old-fashioned. If I’m dating someone, before I really get close to them, I have to know who they are accountable to. So early on, I started talking to his pastor because he was a very active member of his church. I introduced him to my brother and I started talking to his mother too. One of his brothers is a nurse in Nigeria, so I even started coaching him for his exams to come to the UK.  I was getting really close with his family.

    About four months into our relationship, I went to spend a week with Patrick. While I was there, we went to his church to see his pastor. His pastor said the next time he saw us, he wanted it to be about our marriage and that I shouldn’t  stay at his place again without being married to him. The pastor asked Patrick for a wedding date, and he said it would be around March or April of the next year.

    But by December, he started rushing me to get married. I took him to see my brother and after a lengthy private chat, my brother asked me if I was sure about Patrick because he did not have a stable job or any real plans. But I assured my brother that we were going to work it out.

    That December we made plans for the new year. We lived five hours apart by train. So I started applying for work near his area. He lived in a shared accommodation so the plan was we would rent a small apartment for a year, then buy a house. I would use my money to make a deposit on a place for the two of us and he could contribute towards the mortgage. But none of that happened.

    What happened?

    He started disturbing me about travelling to the US. He said he wanted to go see his brother who lives there because they had not seen each other for about six years, since he left Nigeria. But he had been denied a US visa multiple times.

    I was traveling to the US in March to see my family as well so we made plans to go together. I had gotten a US visa for myself and even helped multiple friends get theirs too so I understood the process. I helped him apply and this time he got it.

    The plan was to leave together in March so he’ll see his brother and I will also take him to see my family. But as soon as his visa came in November he started saying he wanted to go immediately.

    I told him it was fine, he could go see his brother and we would still go back in March to see my family. So he left for the US. But after just a week there, I started noticing he was distant over the phone. We had planned he would only be there for ten days but he overstayed and I started getting worried after two weeks.

    I had said yes to a job offer in his area and he was supposed to come back and rent a place we could move into. But then he told me his brother wanted him to try to get a job in the US.

    He suggested I come to the US and find work as a nurse because he heard nurses there make a lot of money. I told him I had been to the US several times and I knew enough nurses there to know they work longer hours and lose so much of that money to taxes.

    He had always been funny with money. He would complain about my studio apartment, my small car and my phone I’ve had since 2022. He started showing me how big his brother’s house is, and I said, “I don’t care about your brother’s house.” I think that got him angry. But I really did not care what his brother had. We needed to plan for our own selves. 

    I asked him if wanted to live in the US illegally or live in the UK legally? He insisted he wanted to follow his brother’s advice and look for work in the US. I told him I was not about to beg a man to marry me and stopped talking to him. But that was not even what hurt the most.

    Okay. What else happened?

    I was discussing with a colleague and when I told her we weren’t together anymore, she told me she had a confession.

    What was it?

    She and Patrick had dated before and they were introduced by the same friend who introduced me to him. When he started rushing her for marriage after barely two months, she knew something was wrong and broke up with him. 

    That’s insane.

    She wasn’t the only one.

    My friend had introduced him to a third nurse who he also tried to rush into marriage. I felt chills learning this about him. I found out his postgraduate work visa was expiring. That was why he was so eager to find a nurse to marry. But the American visa came at the right time and that’s how he left.

    I feel they (Patrick, my friend, and her husband) must have discussed ways for him to remain in the country and decided to match him with nurses because it’s easier with nurses. I felt sad knowing that they had now introduced him to me for that reason. I was on my own and I didn’t even really want to date.

    What was it like being with him? Was he a nice guy?

    Well, to be fair to him, he was nice. But I don’t know whether it was all a facade. He was nice, at least at the beginning. 

    But in hindsight, there were some odd behaviours he exhibited. Once, while I was at his place, he went to a friend’s wedding but did not invite me to come along, so I waited in the house, wondering why. Or when we went to his church and he made me go through a different entrance than him.

    I think about all the times he would joke about how I made more money than him, so I should give him money. And I did. I gave him money for his birthday, I paid for a license he needed for a job, and I gave him money for his trip to the US.

    He even asked me to get him a credit card in my name or buy him a phone with my card, promising to pay me monthly for it. Fortunately, I did neither of those things.

    So that’s how things ended between you two?

    He has decided to be an illegal immigrant in the US. That’s his decision.  I have peace now. If I meet somebody else, fine. If nobody comes, I’ll still be happy. It’s better to have peace of mind than to end up with someone who just wants to use you. 

    What was dating like for you in Nigeria, and how would you compare it to dating in the UK?

    I miss Nigeria aAnd  I miss Lagos. I haven’t been to Nigeria since I left. I love Nigerian men in Nigeria. I used to love going to karaoke, or salsa. There, you could just be sitting down, and a man would just come to say hello to you and you just chat. It’s not the same here in the UK. Maybe it’s because of the town I live in, but you can dress up with makeup and look so fly and nobody will talk to you.

    Here, if you want to date, you have to start with a dating app. And funny enough, on the app, you might actually be talking to someone on your street. Otherwise, people usually meet through introductions from mutual friends and acquaintances.

    Would you say it’s lonelier there?

    It is. I make good money as a nurse. But it’s hard. For instance, on my street, I’m the only black person. Most of the black people I know are colleagues at work, so it’s kind of lonely. There’s a Nigerian restaurant in my area, but it’s mostly white people that go there for the African experience.

    The only opportunities to really meet other black people are when someone has a party, maybe a child dedication or a wedding. But at my age most of the Nigerian men I meet are married with their wives here or back home in Nigeria. And I’m not going to date anybody younger than me again.

    We have a WhatsApp group for Nigerians in my area and it’s quite supportive but I  do get lonely at night. There’s really nobody to talk to. All my siblings are married. Sometimes when my friends are telling me about their relationship issues, I tell them they are lucky to have somebody to argue with.

    So you’re really not talking to anyone currently?

    At the moment I’m not dating anyone. Another friend of mine  wanted to introduce me to her husband’s older brother. He’s a single dad living in Nigeria. I refused. I don’t want to be a poverty alleviation scheme, please.

    I’m not dating currently. I did date a white person, though. 

    Okay. What was that like?

    He was nice. But there were cultural barriers. Like he did not get how we Nigerians use insults playfully as terms of endearment and would get offended when I was only joking. And he didn’t understand the idea of me having to send money to my family in Nigeria. He just did not get it.

    When I cooked for both of us, the spice was too much for him. When he cooked, it was not enough for me. I don’t know how Nigerians that are married to whites do it, it’s hard.

    Also, they do not really care about marriage. They just have “partners.” You’ll see couples that have been together thirty years, but they are not married. I believe in marriage, and I believe in having kids in marriage. But white people don’t really see it as a big deal.

    He kept asking me to have a kid with him. I think he really wanted a mixed-race daughter. I told him I was old-fashioned and we would have to get married first before we had a child. 

    How happy would you say you are on a scale of one to ten, and why?

    Eight right now. I have peace and I believe that is even more important than money. It’s not ten because it does get lonely.

    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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  • The phrase “good things don’t last forever” seems to be the new reality for Nigerians aspiring to relocate to the United Kingdom (UK). 

    Once a popular travel destination for the Nigerian “japa” dream, it is slowly dropping off the ‘wannabe list’. 

    The UK is set to add new restrictions to curb its migrant population boom. This week, the monarchy-led country plans to disclose more details of a restriction affecting foreign postgraduates; they won’t be able to bring their families to the UK.

    There are claims that this targeted Africans, and there are many reasons to believe so. But who exactly are the affected parties, and what would the impact of this restriction be for aspiring international students? 

    The affected parties 

    These include mostly students aspiring for a Master’s degree and some other postgraduate degrees. However, highly skilled PhD students with 3-5 years courses will remain unscathed by the ban.

    What brought about this upcoming policy change? To understand this, we need to understand a few things that contributed to the need for the UK to have plans for travel restrictions.

    You can also read: These Countries Are Red Flags for Your Japa Plans

    An explosion in migrant-dependent population

    In September 2022, official immigration data released by the British government revealed a surge in the number of foreign students in the UK. Students brought 135,788 family members—that’s nine times more than in 2019. Nigerian students—59,053 alone—brought over 60,923 relatives.

    UK government when they saw the numbers 

    As a result, the UK Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, has considered clamping down on international students coming to the UK due to the massive “structural pressures” that it imposes. 

    The decision also follows reports that net migration into the UK has hit 1 million. This has made the Tory MPs ‘apply pressure’ on Prime Minister Rishi Sunak “to get a  grip on the rocketing numbers”.

    UK’s 2019 international education strategy 

    In case you didn’t know, the UK wasn’t always a popular destination for Nigerian students. Between 2012 and 2017, the country experienced a 27% drop in Nigerian student admissions, and they saw the need to up their game.

    How we imagine the UK government plotting a way out of their predicament

    Hence, the Department for Education and the Department for International Trade created the International Education Strategy in March 2019. 

    In this strategy, Nigeria was part of five high-priority countries (India, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, and Vietnam) that the UK chose to achieve two main goals. This was to increase education exports by £35 billion per year and increase the number of international higher education students studying in the UK to 600,000 annually.

    This plan worked on the Nigerian front, as the number of Nigerians who obtained UK student visas experienced a 39% increase (from 13,020 in 2019 to 21,305 in 2020). 

    But this wasn’t enough for the UK government. They needed to sweeten the deal, and in October 2020, the British Home Office introduced the student visa. It was established as an improvement to the former mode of student migration, called Tier 4. Among many new guidelines, it created a unique, golden opportunity for Nigerian students—to leave the country with their families.

    But even though this served as a blessing in disguise for international students, we can all see what the UK government is about to do. Problem.

    But why is the UK such a popular choice for Nigerian students?

    For starters, it is home to one of the best immigration policies in the world for migrants, according to U.S. News & World Report. It also gives Nigerians access to Ivy League universities (e.g., Oxford and Harvard) and diverse job opportunities after graduation.

    Due to these factors, the average Nigerian student can do anything to fund their access to UK education, from scholarships to even loans from family and friends.

    Is the ban valid or not?

    According to opinions on Twitter, most agree that there would be a drastic reduction in not just the families who make it abroad but in foreign students themselves.

    However, this could also mean the UK government ‘shooting themselves in the foot’.

    A 2021 report by SBM Intelligence revealed that Nigerian students and their families contributed as much as £1.9 billion to the economy in the 2020/2021 session. And really, would they want to miss out on that bag?

    Let’s wait and see.