Welcome to another sizzling edition of Thursday Chronicles, where we serve you hot truth with a side of sarcasm, pour fresh laughter into your week, and sprinkle facts like pepper in mama put stew. If you’re reading this with a shaky network or while holding a charger tightly at a public socket, just know you’re in the right place. Let’s dive into today’s gist.
Everywhere you turn these days, someone is either applying for a visa, preparing for IELTS, doing WES evaluation, or attending one mysterious “relocation seminar.” If you enter a random office in Lagos and shout “Canada,” half the people will turn and say “Amen.” The japa fever has officially taken over the nation, and nobody seems interested in checking their temperature.
It’s like one mass exodus. One big real-life episode of Escape Room. Nigerians are running, not jogging, with full energy, packed documents, and desperation that can move mountains. Some don’t even care where they’re going anymore. As long as there is light, clean water, stable currency, and nobody shouting “up NEPA,” they’re packing their bags.
And the funny thing is, it doesn’t even start with big announcements. It begins with subtle clues. First, they stop buying furniture, then they start greeting you with “How far, you dey?” instead of “Good morning.” Before you know it, their bio says “living in diaspora,” and they’re tweeting about how “abroad is not for the weak” from a cozy heated apartment.
But can we really blame them?
The Nigerian situation is like a toxic relationship. You keep hoping it’ll get better, but it keeps giving you heartbreak, bills, fuel scarcity, and mosquito bites at 2am. You vote, they rig. You complain, they ignore. You hustle, they frustrate. So when people get the chance to try elsewhere, they grab it like Black Friday sales. Who no wan soft life?
Let’s talk about the numbers. According to the Nigerian Economic Summit Group, over 71,000 Nigerians relocated to the UK in one year, and that’s just one country. Canada, Australia, Germany, Dubai — all collecting Nigerians like souvenirs. Nurses, teachers, software engineers, welders, fashion designers, even DJs — everybody is finding one route or another.
There’s also the peer pressure. You see your former classmate who used to forget his locker key now doing video tours of his Canadian kitchen. He’s smiling like his landlord is the one frying eggs for him. Suddenly, you start rethinking your entire life. You open Google and type “cheap countries Nigerians can relocate to without IELTS.” You even add “2025 version” to be current.
But as tempting as it sounds, japa is not beans. The process is not for the faint-hearted. From transcript wahala to embassy appointments, from WES stress to biometrics, from flight fare to accommodation, it’s like playing chess with your destiny. And the moment you step out of Nigeria, a new kind of struggle begins: cultural shock, homesickness, snow, and tax. Heavy tax.
Some people get there and cry in silence. They smile for Instagram but call their Nigerian friends at night just to hear the sound of generator. Some even miss gala and pure water. But they stay. Because, despite all the challenges, abroad offers one thing that’s scarce in Nigeria — hope. Hope that things can actually work. That if you pay tax, you’ll see road. That your hard work won’t be wasted by one policy announced at 1am.
And for those of us still here, battling fuel price, epileptic power supply, and the trauma of living in a country that sends you “We regret to inform you” emails more than job offers, we get it. It’s not that we don’t love Nigeria. It’s just that Nigeria sometimes behaves like it doesn’t love us back.
Still, not everyone will or wants to leave. Some are building businesses here. Some are staying close to family. Some are simply not ready. And that’s okay. Not everyone’s dream is Canada. Some just want peace, Wi-Fi, and affordable eggs.
At the end of the day, japa is not about geography. It’s about seeking better. If you find better here or there, the most important thing is peace of mind. Whether you’re staying or going, soft life is your birthright, and may we all find it one way or another.
Thanks again for hanging out with me on Thursday Chronicles.
If this one touched your chest or reminded you to finish your Canada application form, don’t worry, you’re not alone. Whether you’re abroad, about to japa, or just jejely surviving in Mushin with dreams of Maldives, I’m rooting for you.
Let’s do this again next Thursday; same gist time, same chaotic life, same unfiltered truths. Until then, keep pushing, stay hydrated, and don’t forget to charge your phone, it’s still a jungle out here.
