If the last news you heard coming out of the United Kingdom (UK) was the not-so-great one about its new immigration rules, this latest update might excite you a little—the UK has revealed that Nigerians can now import a total of 3,000 different products into its territories without having to pay any tariffs.
What’s going on?
In a press conference in Abuja on May 14, the British High Commissioner to Nigeria, Richard Montgomery, said that his country is eager to see more Nigerians take advantage of a trade deal that has made 3,000 products duty-free. You might just be hearing about it now, but the trade deal is not so new. It is known as the Enhanced Trade and Investment Partnership (ETIP), and was signed in February 2025.
What’s the ETIP about?
The ETIP is a trade framework jointly designed by Nigeria and the UK to foster mutual growth between the two countries. Described by the UK as “the first of its kind with an African country, and only globally,” ETIP primarily covers eight different sectors: Clean Growth, Education, Health and Life Sciences, Creative Industries, Agriculture, Finance and Financial Services, Legal Services and Investment, and regulatory Cooperation (which takes care of technical trade barriers, intellectual property, customs, and trade facilitation).
Things that exist under the ETIP include the Propcom+ programme, supporting “more than 4 million people in Nigeria (50% of whom are women) to adopt and scale sustainable agricultural practices to ensure food security,” the operation of Elephant healthcare in Kaduna State, to digitise its public primary healthcare system, and the 3,000 tariff free products under the Developing Countries Trading Scheme (DCTS) and Trade for Development programme.
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What products can Nigerians export to the UK without tariffs?
Gather all your japa friends together; you just might find something you want to export here. We can’t list the entire 3,000 tariff-free products here, but some of them include cocoa, cotton, flowers, fertilisers, frozen shrimps, plantain, sesame, fresh tomatoes, olive oil, yam, and cashew nuts.
“Nigeria has significant potential to benefit from DCTS, and we encourage more Nigerian exporters to take advantage of the opportunity to continue to trade tariff-free with the UK,” the British High Commissioner to Nigeria, Richard Montgomery, said. “We have a Nigerian DCTS champion currently using the DCTS to scale her business. We want to see many more,” he continued.
Montgomery also highlighted other ways the ETIP is benefiting Nigerians, such as the support provided to Nigerian startups to scale and internationalise through the UK’s Global Entrepreneurs Programme.
How can I take advantage of these initiatives?
Nigerians curious to see ways they can take advantage of DCTS and other things under Nigeria and the UK’s Enhanced Trade and Investment Partnership (ETIP) can check here for more information.
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The Japa class of 2023-2024 does not know what the Lord did for them because the 2025 aspirants are going through it. In what can only be described as village people machinations, the UK government has announced new immigration rules that will make relocating and staying in the European country harder than it already is.
What’s going on?
The real question is “what’s not going on?” On Monday, May 12, the UK government released an immigration white paper detailing its new laws and focus in that area. The 82-page document (yes, 82 whole pages) titled Restoring Control over the Immigration System contains anything but good news for hundreds of Nigerians looking to move to the European country anytime soon. We’ll break down some of the affected areas below:
Graduate route visa
From now on, postgraduate students in the UK will be required to leave the country 18 months after their studies, instead of two years, which had been the norm.
If this first rule has you screaming “God abeg,” you’ll hate to know there’s more: The UK also wants to “explore introducing a levy on higher education provider income from international students,” and it doesn’t stop there. Universities that sponsor international students are also on the hot seat — they will now be expected to meet some compliance requirements, which include a 95% course enrolment and 90% course completion rate, a new rating system (Red-Amber-Green) for publicly accessible grading of universities on compliance level. Schools whose scores are below par will either have their sponsorship numbers reduced, be made to follow through with an intervention plan, or be stopped from sponsoring international students into the UK.
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Permanent residency and citizenship
The new immigration laws will make it much more difficult for foreigners to transition to permanent residency and gain citizenship. Instead of the usual five years, migrants will now be required to spend a minimum of ten years in the country to gain citizenship and permanent residency status.
Social Care Visa
If you or your relatives ever had plans to japa through the Social Care Visa, you might have to kiss that plan goodbye because the UK government will be shutting down that route. If you used this route and are currently inside the UK, you can enjoy a small win — the UK government will establish a transition period until 2028, which will “permit visa extensions and in-country switching for those already in the country with working rights.” It’s a small win, but don’t celebrate just yet because it will be kept under review.
Skilled workers
The reforms in this area are mostly tabled under the introduction of a Temporary Shortage List that will impose time-limited access to the Point-Based Immigration System. They will affect occupations with an RQF 3-5 (below degree level) and a couple of other things.
Other areas which will undergo reforms include family migration, humanitarian response, and global talent.
The UK government says it is putting all these reforms in place for the sole purpose of reducing Net Migration, which was at 906,000 and 728,000 in 2023 and 2024, respectively. The UK basically wants everybody to stay in their countries, and it couldn’t have made it any clearer than it did in the long document just issued. If you’ve ever mumbled “Nigeria must work” before, now is the time to scream it at the top of your voice because it really must.
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Many Nigerians agree that the Nigerian dream is to move abroad in search of greener pastures. For most who have lived this “dream”, the hardest part is saying goodbye to old friends and opening their hearts to new connections — especially in a less community-centric country like the United Kingdom.
We spoke to seven Nigerians living in the UK about how they made their first friend in the diaspora. If you have recently moved or are planning to relocate, this article offers valuable insights to help you build and sustain meaningful connections.
“Find people with similar interests on social media and connect with them” — Ben (London, UK)
Ben*, 30, believes that social media is the best place to find friends when you’re a Nigerian living in London.
“I’m somewhat active on X, so sometimes, people recognize me when I’m in public. I always see that as an opportunity to form great connections, so I go beyond the typical small talk people make. I ask questions about them, exchange numbers and promise to keep in touch, which I always do. And I’ve never been turned down by any of the people I’ve met this way. We all crave human connection, especially in foreign countries. I also love to observe people on social media, find out whether we have similar interests, interact with their content and reach out to them if I believe we’ll make good friends.”
“Find a good religious centre near you “ — Aanu (Manchester, UK)
Aanu*, 20, dreaded the idea of starting over in a new country at first, but after finding a religious centre that prioritised community-building, she found it easier to settle into her new life.
“I had heard how lonely it was to live in the UK, so when my parents asked me to move there, I wasn’t exactly happy. But one random Sunday morning, I decided to attend service in any reasonable church I could find near me. I ended up in a Nigerian church and walked in while they were making a call for first-time attendees. They connected all the new attendees to a group called the Life Group, where I met most of my friends. Religious centres are great places to meet good people.”
“Try to connect with the Nigerians around you” — Odigo (Derby, UK)
When Odigo*, 24, left Nigeria to study in the UK, she expected her jovial energy to attract people to her, but what she didn’t expect was an unspoken racial division in her classroom.
“When I noticed that other races sidelined the Nigerians in my classroom, I didn’t attempt to make friends outside my race. All I had to do to make friends with the other Nigerians in my class was to ask if I could sit beside them. I’m not naturally the nicest person, but I had to be more intentional about forming friendships with them. Sometimes, all you need to do is just say hello. If you notice that the person isn’t open to conversing with you, you can keep it moving. But if they are, ask for their contact details and be clear about the relationship you want to maintain with them.”
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“Your colleagues can be your friends” — Ebere (Birmingham, UK)
Ebere*, 32, doesn’t buy into the “your colleagues are not your friends” idea, especially when she and the colleague in question share similar values.
“I made my first friend at work. I was lonely then, but I was also trying to be careful not to fall into the wrong kind of friendship out of desperation. First, I paid attention to my colleagues, observed their values and studied their character. The good thing about working with people is seeing them at their highs and lows. After studying all of them carefully, I discovered that Hanah was the colleague who was the best friendship match for me. I asked her if she was open to being friends with me outside of work, and she was. So, I started inviting her to lunch and other social events. We’re no longer in the same city, but we are still close friends.
“Don’t be afraid to make the first move” — Emeka (Bristol, UK)
Unlike the other Nigerians we spoke to, Emeka*, 27, watered the friendship ground months before he moved to the UK to start his postgraduate studies, which paid off.
“A few months before my resumption, my school sent an email assigning me to a stream. I could see the other students assigned to the same stream on the dashboard. Two Nigerian students were on that dashboard, so I searched for them on LinkedIn, formed connections, and sent them a message. We started talking on LinkedIn, and when we felt comfortable enough, we took the conversation to WhatsApp. I was still waiting for my visa decision and was recovering from the financial consequences of being duped by a fake travel agent. One of those Nigerian students I reached out to sent me some pounds to assist with my moving cost. So when I officially moved to the UK, we were already good friends. I highly recommend making the first move and being open to forming those connections before you even leave Nigeria.”
“Initiate a 15-30 minutes post-meet virtual chat with the people you meet” — Tomiwa (London, UK)
Tomiwa* (33) doesn’t believe in using the word “friend” loosely, but he has a tradition that has helped him expand his circle since he moved to the UK.
“I made my first friend at work. I was alone in the 19th-floor cafeteria at my workplace, having lunch. I was the only one on a table that could take four people. One stranger came to the table and asked if they could join. With a big smile and a welcoming gesture, I offered the seat. A few minutes later, someone I had seen a few times at the office was passing by, and I invited them over, too. Before lunch was over, there were five of us at the table, and I became close friends with one of them. One tip I’d recommend is asking to take a picture with the people you meet, exchanging contact and initiating a 15-30 minute post-first meet virtual chat”.
“Don’t limit your friendship shots to one location” — Hakeem – London, United Kingdom
Hakeem*, 28, has never been able to relate to the “UK is lonely” theory, nor does he believe that solid friendships should be restricted to certain locations. He thinks that’s why making friends comes easily to him.
“I made my first friend here last summer. I was travelling to Birmingham, and I noticed this Nigerian-looking man walking towards me, and I offered him a seat. We started a random conversation that extended into one of my most cherished friendships. It went as most conversations went, and we discovered that we shared many beliefs, values and interests. I learnt that he wasn’t London-based and was only on vacation. As with all instances of friendship, I intend to build, I got his contact regardless, and we’ve been talking ever since.”
When Nigerians dream of moving to the UK for better opportunities, they rarely picture sleepless nights, high-risk patients, and barely scraping by. Yet, for thousands of Nigerians who have made the move, care and support work is the stepping stone to a better life — or at least survival.
We spoke to four Nigerians to understand what it means to build a life in the UK’s care sector and how their income compares to what they left behind in Nigeria.
“The hardest part is when they shout at me, but I’ve developed a thick skin.” —Ehi, 32, £2,000/ Month.
When I moved to the UK in 2023, I left behind a stable life as a dentist in Lagos. Back home, my white coat and years of training earned me respect. Now, as a support worker in Nottingham, I spend my days assisting people with disabilities and mental health challenges. While it’s meaningful, it doesn’t demand the same level of critical thinking or problem-solving I once thrived on, and I miss that.
I had to find a way to survive financially while pursuing my long-term goal: passing the UK dentist licensing exams, which cost thousands of pounds. Support work was the obvious short-term choice.
It wasn’t always easy. When I first arrived as a student, strict work-hour limits meant I barely scraped by. At the time, I even worked in a warehouse, pushing through shifts that paid £500 monthly — a striking contrast to my ₦278k base salary (plus ₦300k–₦500k in commissions) as a Lagos dentist.
But now that I’ve completed my master’s in public health, I work full-time in support, earning £2,000 per month. My wife, who came as my dependent, also works in a care home, bringing in £1,500 monthly. Together, we manage rent, bills, and savings, painfully aware that every penny counts toward my next career move.
My ultimate goal is to secure sponsorship, pass my licensing exams, and return to practising dentistry, where salaries range from £50k—£100k per year. With sponsorship, I’d get a three-year work permit, which can be renewed. After working for five years in total, I can apply for Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR), essentially permanent residency. If we have a child along the way, that could also open a pathway to staying. Still, British citizenship isn’t automatic—the child would be considered British property, meaning the government allows parents to stay to care for them.
For now, I’m relying on support work as my backup plan to secure sponsorship, remain in the UK legally, and eventually transition into my profession.
In the meantime, I put in 45-hour weeks, mostly night shifts, balancing exhaustion with hoping for something better. Support work isn’t physically draining, but dealing with patients struggling with addiction, mental health issues, or aggressive behaviour takes a mental toll.
The hardest part is when they shout at me, but I’ve developed thick skin. We use deescalation techniques — calm talking, removing dangerous objects, keeping a safe distance. Most times, they calm down and even apologise.
But despite everything, the UK is still an adjustment.
I miss the hustle and bustle of Lagos. The UK is boring. Everyone just minds their business.
For now, though, minding my business means securing my future. This support work is my backup plan. I’m laying low, putting in the hours, and waiting for the moment I can transition back to dentistry.
“An elderly man with dementia mistook me for his wife at a care home.” — Ikram, 25, £2,000/ Month.
I moved from Nigeria in September 2022 to pursue a master’s degree in digital marketing. Like many Nigerian students who needed a job to support themselves, care work seemed like the most viable option.
I worked for an agency that placed me in various care homes and support settings. The work was often mentally challenging. I encountered residents with a range of mental health conditions, some of whom could become aggressive or self-harm. We were trained in de-escalation techniques and restraint, but it was still tough.
There were days I had to cycle through pouring rain at 6 a.m., racing against time to make it to a support work shift because I couldn’t afford the £7 train fare while waiting for the previous week’s pay.
Then there were the lighter moments — like the elderly man with dementia who mistook me for his wife at a care home. He locked his hands in mine, brought them to his lips, kissed them, and spoke to me as if I were her. Then he said, “They have me locked up here, but as long as you’re with me, Caroline, I’ll be good.”
As a support worker, I earned £11.50 per hour, raking in around £500/ week. However, the shifts weren’t always constant, and I sometimes had to rely on my mum in Nigeria for financial support. I left care work after a dispute over my timesheet with a resident’s family member.
I got my first proper job in the UK as a marketing executive in November 2023, but my role was made redundant in January. Subsequently, I did freelance work for friends while searching for a permanent position. I finally landed a job as a digital marketing manager at the University of Wolverhampton in June 2024, which pays me £28,000 a year.
“It took five years to secure a UK Support Work Visa.” — Akinyemi, 27, £2,500/ Month.
I loved caring for my patients at my job as a healthcare assistant in a Nigerian private hospital. But the pay was barely enough to survive. I earned ₦150k per month, which covered my basic needs but left no room for savings or a future. I wanted more — better career growth, stability, and financial security.
In 2023, I moved to the UK on a work visa as a support worker after years of searching.
I studied Public Health in Nigeria, so working in healthcare felt like a natural fit. Now, I earn between £2,000–£2,500 per month, depending on my shifts. That said, I primarily work 30-40 hours a week.
While my financial situation has improved, it’s not an overwhelming surplus, mainly because the UK’s cost of living is much higher than when I lived in Nigeria. But for me, it’s more about financial stability and growth opportunities rather than just getting by. I can now save, support my family back home, and plan for the future, making a significant difference for me.
But the job itself is tough. I assist residents in care homes with personal care, meals, and daily activities. Some have severe mental health conditions or physical disabilities, and the work can be physically and emotionally draining. But there are rewarding moments — like knowing I’ve made someone’s day a little easier.
Adjusting to life in the UK wasn’t easy. Beyond the job, I had to get used to direct communication, strict workplace protocols, and even small cultural shocks — like how seriously the British take queues. But over time, I’ve learned to navigate the system and balance my work with my personal life.
I started looking for sponsorship jobs in 2018 and finally secured one in 2023. Many people rush the process and pay agents ridiculous sums, only to arrive and find no job waiting for them. But I handled everything myself — just Google, apply directly on company websites, and be patient. It took years, but in the end, it was worth it.
I have better financial stability, career prospects, and exposure to a well-structured healthcare system.
In the long term, I plan to advance in healthcare, possibly through further training or specialisation. Whether I continue progressing in the UK or explore opportunities elsewhere, my goal remains to build a fulfilling and sustainable career in healthcare.
“I lost my first support work because they snitched on me.” — Ayodele, 25, £1400/ Month.
I lost my first support work because a white woman snitched on me. She said I was sleeping on the job — which, to be fair, I was. But I got another one with the same pay, so I moved on.
Now, I work as a support worker in the UK, putting in 30–32 hours a week. It’s not physically demanding, so I manage to fit in other things — my art, partying, and hanging out with friends. But financially? It’s a constant battle. After taxes, I take home around £1,400. From that, £500 goes straight to debt settlement; some money I loaned to help me settle in the UK still needs to be paid off, leaving me with £900. Then rent takes £650, which leaves just £250 for everything else: food, transport, basic survival.
Before I finished my master’s in September 2024, I was earning £1,800. Then the tax season hit, and the tax management department for the UK government, HMRC (Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs), started taking out £400+. I have to pay income tax for every hour I spend working, and my employer deducts it directly from my paycheck. The more you work, the more they tax you, so even picking up extra shifts doesn’t always help.
In Nigeria, I was raking in around ₦200,000/month between drawing, painting, and making portraits. However, after university, I struggled to find a good job with my biochemistry degree, so I took the next step: a one-year master’s in Public Health at the University of Birmingham. With family support and small loans, I crowdfunded my first instalment — £3,000 of the £14,000 tuition — then paid the rest throughout the year with my job as a support worker.
Now, I support five residents with different disabilities. One has dyslexia and struggles with learning, so I help him review his engineering coursework, even though my degree is in biology. Another has Down syndrome, diabetes, and other mental, psychological and health conditions, so I handle their medication and meal prep. I keep my smiling face on even when I’m having a bad day, give them their medication, and prepare their food. It was tasking at first, learning how they like their meals, but now I can whip up food that makes them happy.
The biggest adjustment for me has been learning how to provide emotional support for my residents. Back home, I never really had to consider people’s feelings. Here, I’ve had to learn patience, empathy, and how to put others first. However, I also don’t let myself get too emotionally involved; I keep my shifts strictly about work so I can focus on my personal life.
I don’t have a long-term plan yet. I just want to settle down with a partner, get my indefinite leave to remain and start a business at some point. Whatever it is, I’m staying put in the UK and grinding through the routine until I find something better.
Bottom Line
For these Nigerians, care work is more than a job. It’s a balancing act between survival and ambition. Some see it as a stepping stone, others as a struggle to stay afloat, but all of them are navigating a system that demands resilience.
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.
Kanu (36) doesn’t trust most people, especially relatives from his father’s side. In this episode of Abroad Life, he talks about the spiritual reasons why he’s convinced that his two businesses failed because of them and why he decided to relocate without informing them.
Where do you currently live, and when did you move out of Nigeria?
I left Nigeria in October 2023, and I currently live in Northampton. I moved here as a student, but I’m done with my studies now.
What was the motivation behind your move?
I’ve never liked Nigeria since day one, so when my brother suggested that I move, it was an obvious decision for me. He was here before, but he moved back to Nigeria. Now he wants to return to the UK because life is better here.
Better in what sense?
The money I make in the UK weekly is more than my two months’ salary in Nigeria. Food is also very cheap here. I spend only £100 on food monthly even though I don’t live alone (I live with my girlfriend). Before my girlfriend joined me as my dependent, I was spending less than £50 on food.
Were you cooking or eating out?
I was mostly cooking. It’s my girlfriend who likes to eat out. There isn’t much to eat here anyway; their food is basic— just chips and chicken. Plus, the Nigerian restaurants here are expensive, so I’d rather just cook. One time, after I gave into my cravings and ordered Amala, I was given my bill and saw it was around £18, which should be around ₦36,000. Nobody should be spending that much on Amala. When you compare that to chicken and chips, which cost around four pounds, that’s very expensive.
You mentioned that you’re living with your girlfriend; how’s that going?
It’s been amazing. Back in Nigeria, we couldn’t live together because I hadn’t paid her bride price. Being in the UK with her has been a blessing because the bills are too much for one person. She’s a braider and can comfortably make what I make in a week in less than 24 hours—I just graduated last month, so I haven’t gotten a professional job.
Congratulations. What was it like studying in the UK?
I think I prefer the education system in Nigeria. The UK school I attended made it feel like I was teaching myself; they just gave us course outlines, videos and other resources. I don’t know about other schools, but my school also didn’t have exams. We did assignments and presentations, and that was all. Even the tasks weren’t challenging because the lecturers walked us through it. In Nigeria, you never know what to expect; you also have to work really hard to get good grades, which makes you feel highly competitive.
Isn’t that a good thing?
It is a good thing, but I love some healthy competition. I’m grateful for the experience, though. I finished with a distinction. I got five A’s and two B’s, but getting an A in my dissertation about nonprofit organizations in Nigeria was the real game changer. I worked in an NGO in Nigeria, so writing the dissertation wasn’t hard.
I’m curious: what did your life in Nigeria look like?
There wasn’t much to it. I had an interesting job, but it got boring along the line. My boss started gatekeeping some tasks, and I just got tired of receiving my salary without doing the actual work. The opportunity to relocate was a means of escape. The first thing I did after my visa got approved was to keep it from my office people. You never really know whose energy is going to bring you misfortune.
So you just left with saying goodbye?
Yes. And it’s not just my colleagues. I didn’t tell some friends, either, and I didn’t tell anybody from my father’s side. The organisation I worked with belonged to a relative from my father’s side so that’s why I didn’t tell my colleagues.
Is there a specific reason you didn’t want people from your father’s side to know you were travelling?
I had to keep it low because I’ve had some crazy experiences with them. I’ve done two different businesses that failed drastically after I informed people from my father’s side. I had a carpentry and clothing business, and the moment I told them, everything crashed down. After those businesses failed, I decided to start another one without informing them, and it was successful.
I landed at the airport before telling them I was relocating and then submitted my resignation letter. They didn’t even let me leave the airport before they removed me from the WhatsApp group in the office, but I don’t have regrets.
Relocating is a spiritual achievement, and if I had told people about it, it probably wouldn’t have worked out. It’s been almost two years since I moved, and some people still don’t know about it.
Interesting. What was the reaction of the friends you didn’t tell about your relocation plans?
I don’t feel obligated to tell everybody about my plans. I told the few people that needed to know, and that’s what matters.
How did your colleagues react?
I don’t really care about their reaction; It was a toxic job. One time, a colleague who also happened to be a relative threatened to assault me physically. That was the last time I cared about the job. Then, there’s the fact that they constantly excluded me from important projects and assignments.
I’m sorry. I hope your life in the UK is much better
My life in the UK is perfect. I’m learning new things and making money that has value. I love my life here so much that I no longer care much for social media. I can’t relate to the loneliness that most people complain about in the UK because I don’t like humans. So yeah, life in the UK is much better.
How are you cohabiting with your girlfriend if you don’t like humans?
She’s different; she’s my best friend. If I have her attention, I don’t need anybody else’s. I’m okay with having my woman around and keeping every other person at a distance. I can spend every day with her and not get tired.
The only two things I miss about Nigeria are playing football and eating good Nigerian food. The first thing I’ll do when I visit Nigeria again is to find a place to buy proper pounded yam.
LMAO. What else has caught you off guard since you moved to the UK?
I don’t know why, but most people here greet with their heads. It’s really funny because these people taught Africans to greet in English just for me to move to their country and find out that they greet with their heads. And please don’t get me started on how bipolar the UK weather is.
I hear this one all the time. On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you with your life in the UK?
9.5. Once I get a professional job and driver’s license, it will be 10.
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.
Ruth (26) woke up one morning with no plans to relocate and ended the day with a spiritual revelation that made it clear that she had to move to the UK. She talks about getting a university admission in just ten days, receiving double the funding she was initially offered and how others can do the same.
When did you relocate and where do you live now?
I live in Bristol, United Kingdom. I left Nigeria in 2022.
How did that happen?
I never knew I would leave Nigeria until I had a spiritual encounter. If you ask my friends, they always describe me as a patriotic person who wanted to stay back.
I was a teacher in Nigeria focused on advocating for inclusive education, but in March 2022, I was praying for a new job, and I had a revelation that made me know I had to leave the country. I heard God tell me that faith without work is dead. At that moment, I felt a force spring me from the bed, and instead of applying for jobs, I knew in my spirit that I had to start checking for schools that offer scholarships abroad.
What happened after your revelation?
Everything happened so quickly. After that revelation, I started my research, and the two schools that popped up on my Google page were the University of Bristol and the University of East Anglia. I was more interested in the University of Bristol because it offered the course I wanted. I immediately opened an account with the two schools and looked through the application process.
I’ve always had my transcripts and every other important document with me, so I uploaded them the same day. After uploading those documents, I contacted two people who could write my reference letters. Those two people agreed to be my referees, so I was able to submit their email addresses that night, too. Then I started writing my statement of purpose. The funniest part is that I had no idea I would make such life-changing decisions when I woke up that morning.
Wait, did you do all these in one day?
Everything happened the same day. I only applied to those two schools, and they both gave me unconditional offers. The only thing I couldn’t do that day was send in my reference letter, but I started my personal statement, which is the most important part of the application. One of the schools required a 500-word count, and the other school wanted 300 words.
But don’t get me wrong. I didn’t submit my application that day; it took about ten more days. And the craziest part? The unconditional offer at the University of Bristol came ten days later.
How did that happen?
I was shocked when the offer came in. The University of Bristol had a webinar for prospective students, and people kept asking the moderator when they could expect to hear back from the school. The moderator said admission takes six to eight weeks, and mine came in ten days.
That’s very interesting. What do you think you did differently?
I wouldn’t say I did anything differently. I don’t want to take credit, because God wrote the whole story.
But one thing I am grateful for is my experience in community advocacy. I mentioned that I was involved in advocacy activities before I left Nigeria and I poured my heart into it so that’s what my essay was mostly about– I started with the problem I was trying to solve, focused on how Nigerian children don’t have access to quality education, even though we have regulations and policies that are supposed to give children access to quality education, then tied the problem back to why I was interested in studying my chosen course and the skills I had picked up from advocating for inclusive education. I also talked about what I’ve done in the advocacy scene in Nigeria and what I plan on doing in the future.
I’d love to hear more about that, but I’m curious to know how your family and friends received the news
Everybody was excited. I think this is the part where I should add that I started my education at the University of Bristol with a partial scholarship called the Think Big scholarship (applications are open until April 2025). I think we were all so excited that we missed the part where it was clearly written that I was supposed to pay £2000 for my deposit.
The scholarship application differed from the school application; I was supposed to secure my space with £2000. In my head, I was like, “Where is this coming from?” I was even crying because I wouldn’t have applied if I had known there was a compulsory deposit payment, but God came through. I paid my deposit and got the scholarship in July 2022.
It’s not going to be the case for everybody else because there’s a part of the application process where you’re asked if you want a full or partial scholarship. I only chose a partial scholarship because I assumed other people must have filled the full scholarship space since my application came in late. I didn’t have enough faith then, but now, I know better.
I’m just grateful I chose this path because it has strengthened my walk with God. It would have been good if I had the full scholarship, but then I wouldn’t have known God in the capacity I know him now.
I’m glad you’ve made peace with that decision. How would you advise people to apply for this scholarship?
My approach to my scholarship application differed from that of a normal school application. So, for my application, I attached links to the work that I had already done.
I had to write three essays. The first one was about why I was interested in the scholarship the second was about the work I had done in my community, and the third was about what I would do as a Bristol ambassador.
My selling point was question number one – What have you done? I didn’t bother talking too much. I just said I’ve had the opportunity to do ABC, here are links to show the work I have done– I put about 10 links in that second question, and that helped me start off strong.
So, my advice to anybody would be to make sure they have solid experience, even if it’s volunteer experience. These applications are usually not about your academic qualifications. I’ve seen people who have third-class degrees get fully funded scholarships. You want to show what you bring to the table, so your application has to say, “I am your best candidate, and you can’t afford to miss me”.
Don’t be cocky but be confident about what sets you apart. If you have a digital track record of doing those things that make you the ideal applicant, insert your links. Sell yourself because the person on the other side of the screen does not know you, so they would judge whatever version of yourself you present to them.
Ensure you answer the school’s questions without trying to force your personal experience into it. For example, if they ask why you want to be in their school, don’t dwell much on the work you have done. I also always advise people to find a link between the first and last questions. You don’t want to talk about something like climate change in question one and talk about the mortality rate in question two. Let there be a connection, even if you are a multi-talented person.
Thank you. How has life been since you moved to the UK?
I’m grateful to God because He’s been showing up for me. At first, the school offered me a £5000 scholarship, but then I went to God in prayer and told him that I needed more than that amount. Two days after the first offer, I received another email informing me that the school had gotten extra funding and was looking for someone to give. That’s how I got an extra £5000, which makes it £10,000 in total.
But life here has been tough because my family is in Nigeria. Plus if you’re self-funding or studying with a partial scholarship, you’ll always have bills to pay.
Is there anything about the UK that caught you off guard?
I’ve never seen so many pets in my life. Anytime I’m walking home, there’s a high chance that I’ll see someone walking their dog. I’m scared of dogs so that’s one thing I’m still getting used to.
Sorry. How happy are you with your life post-japa?
I would say 10 because I’m where I’m supposed to be. Things are still coming together, but it’s looking good.
Want to 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.
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Mariam, the subject of this week’s Abroad Life, knew comfort, financial safety and annual vacations in Nigeria but when she moved to the UK, life forced her to live in the worst condition she’d ever known. She talks about sharing a one-bedroom apartment with seven other people and struggling to continue her education in the UK.
Where do you live, and when did you leave Nigeria?
So I am based in the UK, and I left Nigeria two years ago.
When did leaving the country become an option for you?
It just happened. My parents decided that it was time to move. I was in my first year of university when they started making preparations, and they wanted us to leave as soon as possible because of me.
Oh, why?
They didn’t want me to continue my education in Nigeria. I was still a fresher, about to write my first semester exams, when they started making relocation plans; I was coming back from night class one day, and my mom called me, telling me that they’d booked my flight.
That’s interesting. How has life been since you moved?
It started out really rough. When we moved here, we expected jobs and accommodation because of the route my parents came in with, but none of that happened. Thankfully, we had family members that we could stay with.
We were a family of five staying with a family of three in a one-bedroom apartment. That was how stranded we were. That situation made me realise that moving abroad isn’t the flex people make it out to be. My parents had friends who had gone through the same route; those friends were offered rosy promises but suffered the same disappointing experience we did , and they didn’t tell anybody in Nigeria. They actually went through worse than we did because they didn’t have family members in the UK. They had to sleep in airports, but they didn’t tell us that was what they encountered coming here because they didn’t want people to know that they were suffering abroad, so they just suffered in silence and waited for the people who were coming to experience it themselves.
What was it like living in that kind of condition?
It was easy at first. Most people try to be nice to visitors when they arrive, but we still had some misunderstandings.
There were times when my siblings and I would have to go hungry because we didn’t want to bother the family we were living with. My parents were always out looking for jobs, but we still couldn’t afford even snacks.
It was almost like we left a good life in Lagos to come and live in the worst conditions in the UK. I think we all regretted moving at that time. We still had people back home who had high expectations because we were abroad but the good thing is that if you’re suffering abroad, it’s not easy to tell because the system is kind of supportive. People can’t even tell that you’re suffering because you still look good in pictures.
Can you tell me more about what life looked like in Nigeria?
We were a middle-class family, and we were really comfortable. Our parents could provide for us, and we didn’t have to struggle compared to when we initially moved to the UK. We could afford whatever we wanted. We could even go on vacation abroad.
Do you know why your parents made the decision to leave Nigeria?
They didn’t really have reasons because they travelled a lot. They’ve been in and out of the country for recreation and holidays. I think my mom was the main driver behind that decision. She made the decision out of fear for the future of her kids. I’m her first child, so she had already planned my life for as long as possible.
My dad worked in a multinational company in Nigeria so he had friends whose children graduated and started struggling to get good jobs. Even the ones that were relying on their parent’s connection to get good jobs still struggled. All my mom wanted to do was make sure I didn’t end up in that situation.
How is life now compared to when you first moved?
It has improved significantly. Things eventually fall in place when you have God by your side. We have our apartment now.
We moved into the apartment at midnight, and I can still remember how we carried our boxes on our heads. We had to sleep on our clothes the first few weeks because it was an unfurnished apartment. It was a tough situation to adjust to.
Back in Nigeria, my parents were landlords, so it was a humbling experience watching them build their lives from scratch. It made me realise that things can change in a split second. Our quality of life has improved so much now. I literally quit my job last month because I can’t be bothered. That’s how comfortable we are now.
Are you back in school now?
My siblings were able to start their education in the UK easily, but, I couldn’t.
I was told that I had the option of going back to write my General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) or write the Confirmation of Acceptance for Studies (CAS) exam because they didn’t recognise my secondary school leaving results.
If I had gone back to write GCSE, I would have been in the same class as my younger sibling. This was hard for me to process, not only because I would have been in the same class as my younger sibling, but I would also have had to go back to where I was academically about three years ago.
Thankfully, I met someone who helped me get through that situation. Apparently, the school I was applying to didn’t recognise the results, but there were many other schools that had similar cases with immigrants. If I didn’t reach out to this man, God knows where I’d be academically. I later got into college after waiting for a year; I’m currently in my second year of college, and it’s been an amazing experience. I got a scholarship, I’ve made new friends, and I’ve been helping immigrants who are in the same academic situation
Would you say you now prefer life in the UK to your life in Nigeria?
I definitely prefer the systems and structures the UK has set up compared to Nigerian systems. I really love the UK education system because when you work, you see the results of what you do. Quality of life is also better here, but life here comes with some cons–you can get all the opportunities you want and still not be happy with yourself, whereas in Nigeria, you can be yourself, and people will accept you.
Moving here, I didn’t know the different layers of identity I’d have to pick up. I got here and realised that I was a black Muslim woman. You also have to be able to identify when people are being racist towards you. I’ve had some experiences I would rather not revisit.
So, in essence, the UK offers loads of opportunities, but Nigeria offers peace of mind, happiness, and connection with your family. My long-term goal is to build my life here and move back to Nigeria. That’s how bad it is.
On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you living abroad?
I’m grateful. That’s all I can say.
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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.
This week’s Abroad Life features a 25-year-old woman trying to navigate life in the UK after her husband disappeared on her. She shares what it’s been like living with her supportive brother-in-law without her parents’ knowledge and her ongoing struggle to make sense of her marital status.
When did you decide to leave Nigeria and where do you live now?
I wasn’t planning to leave Nigeria, but life happened. I live in the United Kingdom now.
What do you mean when you say life happened?
As I said, I didn’t plan to leave Nigeria, but in 2023, I met a guy on Facebook– He sent me a DM, and I could tell from his profile that he lived in the UK. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but I wasn’t against the idea either, so we started talking every day. It was a normal talking stage, but I almost ended things before they even started.
What happened?
He told me he was 37, but I did my own digging and found out that he was actually 42. I wasn’t comfortable with the fact that he lied, but I called him out on it, and he apologised.
How old were you at the time?
I was 24. His age wasn’t a dealbreaker for me because we connected on the same emotional and intellectual level. What I had a problem with initially was the fact that he lied so early in the talking stage. I took a break, but after a few days and several apologies from him, I cooled off, and we started talking again. He asked me to be his girlfriend in October, and I said yes.
Before you met him physically?
Yes. Everything felt so right at the time. Sometimes, I’d even forget that he was in the UK because he was still a very present part of my life. I could be having a bad day, and he would send me a surprise gift. He prioritised regular communication, so we didn’t ever have any of those “why didn’t you pick my call?” arguments. Plus, I was in my final year of university, so it wasn’t like I had time to be in a physical relationship anyway.
Okay, valid.
Yeah but to be fair, I don’t think I was doing a good job at schooling with or without a relationship. So I had three carryovers in my final year, and it became an automatic extra year for me. I was too embarrassed to tell my parents; it was even more embarrassing to tell my boyfriend because we had only been dating for about two months at the time. But one of my closest friends asked me to tell him so I did. He took the news well, and he offered a solution.
What was the solution?
He suggested that I join him in the UK. He has always been straightforward about wanting me to move in with him so that wasn’t the first time he brought it up, but that was the first time I considered it. I knew by then that either a failed course or an ASUU strike was going to make me spend more than one extra year in school.
We talked about what our lives would look like in the UK and how he would support me if I decided to study there. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, so I agreed. After that conversation, he introduced me to his sister and told me he would visit Nigeria in December to meet my parents so things got more serious from there. That December, he met my parents and sisters; I had already told them about him so nobody was surprised. He stayed the night, but we had a misunderstanding that night.
Do you mind sharing what happened?
So I was practising abstinence at the time, and he wanted to get intimate. I told him I was waiting till marriage and we argued about it because it wasn’t really something that came up in our conversations before that day. The next day, he said he was fine with waiting till marriage. He also said there was no point in wasting time since our relationship was already getting pretty serious and we already met each other’s family and loved each other.
He asked me to marry him that day, and I said yes. Since he was already around, he suggested getting married immediately, and my parents agreed. We ended up having our traditional marriage two days after the proposal and our court wedding the following month.
Were you comfortable with how fast things were moving?
I was. He actually wanted us to do everything quickly so we could apply for my visa and move to the UK with him as a dependant. We started the application after our court wedding, but at some point, I was no longer sure if he still wanted to go through with the move.
Why not?
So we had another misunderstanding. After we got married officially, we decided to find a mini flat to live in together pending the time we can both move to the UK together. Before then, I was living with my parents, and he was staying in a hotel because neither of us planned for the wedding to happen when it did.
We got the mini flat and had sex for the first time as a married couple. Apparently, he assumed that I was a virgin because I was waiting till marriage and felt betrayed when he realised that I wasn’t one. That was the first time I saw him as the 40-something-year-old man he was because who gets upset about virginity? I could have communicated better, but I had no idea that he thought I was a virgin. That was the last time we had sex too.
Oh
When the arguments started, some part of me thought he was joking because it didn’t make sense but he started giving me the cold shoulder, so I tried apologising even though I still wasn’t sure what I did wrong. I explained to him that abstinence was a personal choice I made a few years back and if I had known that it was a virgin he was looking for, I would have never agreed to marry him. The apologies lasted for over a month, but I don’t think it was something he could live with. He moved out of the flat and went back to the UK the following month. I called his family, and they assured me he would come around soon, but he didn’t. He stopped picking up my calls and responding to my texts. The only time he responded was when I told him that the visa got approved and I could finally join him in the UK– all I got was a thumbs-up emoji; he didn’t ask how I would pay for my flight, or when I was going to arrive or anything. But his sister and brother were so supportive. His brother booked my flight and picked me up from the airport when I moved to the UK.
So what about your husband?
He knows I’m in the UK, but I haven’t seen him since I arrived. He’s also aware that his brother paid for everything and I’ve been living with him since then, but he still hasn’t reached out. Sometimes, his brother tells me that he asked about me, but that’s all. My brother-in-law has been nice and said it’s okay to stay with him until whenever my husband comes around.
Do you have a backup plan?
I don’t have a backup plan for now, but I’m not returning to Nigeria. My parents still think we’re together because I told them that I was moving to the UK to live with him. They have no idea that I’m living with his brother. My sister is the only person that knows what’s really going on. His brother is currently trying to help me get a job, and he’s mentioned me going back to school once or twice now. That’s the closest thing to a backup plan I have at this time. His brother has been paying all my bills, but I’m not sure how long that will last. If I get the job, I’ll probably go back to school. I’m hoping my husband comes around because I haven’t fully processed the idea that I might be getting a divorce at 25. I’ve been sending him texts, and his brother has been trying to talk to him too but so far, nothing.
I’m sorry to hear that. How has life in the UK been so far?
It’s been hell. I cry more than I laugh these days. I don’t know anybody here except my husband’s family. My husband is acting like I don’t exist, my parents think I’m living with my husband, and I’m no longer sure I’m married. I can’t say that I’ve experienced what life in the UK should look like because I’m mostly in my brother-in-law’s house. Maybe when I get that job and know where my life is going, I’ll have a better answer.
On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you with abroad life?
Probably 2. But I know things will get better soon.
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).
It’s that time of the year when we all start to regret all the decisions that led us to still be in Nigeria.
If, like me, you need an escape from all the pressure that comes with this season, you should clutch these tips like the best thing after hot agege bread.
Mute UK, Canada and USA on X
There’s a higher chance of hearing about your friend or family member’s travel plans on Twitter than on WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram or in person. But how will you even know if you’ve muted all the japa buzzwords? What you don’t know won’t kill you.
Join a political party
This is the best time to pitch your tent in the compound of the APC, PDP or any other political party in the country. But don’t stop at joining, preach the gospel of your membership and everyone around you will easily mark you as a patriotic Nigerian nurturing plans to run for office. Can you run for office from the abroad? Exactly. No one will be able to pressure you.
Take an interstate trip
It’s not the UK or America, but at least, you’re catching flights, right? It’s the thought that counts. A change of scenery and environment will make it easier to accept the thought that your bestie is now a thousand miles away. After all, you’ve also relocated a dozen miles away.
Plan a vacation
Some Nigerian parents have taken a chill pill with marriage talks and jumped on the japa train. To avoid the entire mix, just plan a small vacation around that period and make yourself unavailable. With ₦200-₦500k, you might even be able to take a trip to Ghana, Togo or the Benin Republic.
Launch a business
For every “Are you considering japa?” question that comes your way, you tell them you have a business to grow in Nigeria and would only consider travelling out for vacations.
Start the japa conversation
This will give you a sense of taking a step in the japa direction. Research about the country and processes, and every time your friends in the abroad ask when you’re joining them, load them up with information that shows you’re putting in the effort. It’s giving delulu, but it’s better than unhealthy pressure.
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.
The subject of today’s Abroad Life is Rukayat, a senior financial analyst in the UK whose side hustle is to connect foreign immigrants with job opportunitiesthrough RKY Careers. She spills the tea on her journey into resigning from a senior position at a legacy bank to relocate to the UK for her Master’s Degree and eventually starting her employment franchise.
What inspired you to move to the UK?
Oh, I moved to the UK to be with my fiancé (now husband) in 2019. As I started early, I was then at a senior level at Guaranty Trust Bank (not an executive). But I also wanted to further my education and get a Master’s degree.
What was the process like?
Well, I first have to start with the anxiety. I had to work through the fact that I was leaving my senior role at the bank to start a new life in the UK. I first tried to come in as a tourist to test the waters, as I didn’t have as much information on the process then as I do now.
However, I was later denied for reasons I’m not aware of. At the time, there wasn’t a specified student visa that could enable me to stay in the UK after my studies, so the “student visa” I got only allowed me access to the UK, which expired immediately after graduation. It was in 2021 that it became effective. I got admission to study Financial Technology at the University of Stirling, shortly after the COVVID in 2020
That’s wonderful! What was your Masters’ experience like?
I had the experience of taking physical classes for six months or four months after the peak of the COVID period. The percentage of Nigerians or even other Africans among the whites was very low.
In fact, I and one other Nigerian were the only two self-paid students in my class. The remaining two Nigerian students were on a Chevening scholarship. I also had the opportunity to pay my school fees in installments for twelve months. I was able to pay through savings from my salary at the bank, plus I had the support of my husband.
At that period, I had to live in Stirling, Scotland. Stirling was what I needed at the time because it was a very quiet and humble place. However, I didn’t live with my husband in England, so I still had to pay 350 pounds for my accommodation.
I got married a few months after I came in, was pregnant throughout the time of my studies, and gave birth at the time of my dissertation, so I needed a calm environment. It was also a struggle getting part-time jobs in the beginning (from September to December) because of the influx of international students rushing into the country. However, I could live with my husband’s support, and I finally got a part-time job in January.
Fantastic! How did you then come about creating RKY careers?
Getting my first job after school in the UK also birthed RKY careers in 2022. Going into the job market at first was scary because of the issue of not accepting Blacks lower rate than other races. However, this wasn’t the case. God favoured me with job offers, and I got various calls on salary expectations. At some interviews, I got rejected. At times, this happened in my final stage.
I was applying for jobs based on my research and had no guidance. I eventually got a job as a Senior Finance Analyst. After a couple of months, I then started to help Nigerians, from close friends and family to people in my current work who also had struggles getting a job in the UK for the first time. I first named the page “Live Careers in the UK” as a career consultation and advisory page, where I could dish out advice for first-time immigrants on careers in the country.
In the process, I also started helping people create CVs as well as LinkedIn optimisation. Last year, we also started to work on training for career professionals who wish to transition.
How did you register?
I first went to the Companies’ House where I paid a bill of 13 pounds. You can register as a limited liability company or a sole entity, but mine was a sole entity. You must also be eligible for it, as not everyone’s visa allows them to own companies in the UK.
What have been the achievements and setbacks so far?
So I’d say our team has done a good job so far regarding achievements. We had over 150 success stories of people who got jobs in the UK and even Nigeria and were called for speaking events, and they are generally doing very well. We have also empowered people to live their dreams in whichever career opportunity they choose.
The challenge, I’d say, is dealing with people, as you cannot satisfy everyone with a peculiar style. You have to offer bespoke services. It is also uncommon for Africans to patronise their own people, and even if they do, they make so many demands. I think we need to do better to respect black owned companies.
Where do you see RKY careers in the next 5 years?
We intend to make more impact and help more people be an inspiration to many others. We also need to increase inclusion and diversity in the workplace, not just for Nigerians but for all Africans.
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