The migration conversation, popularly called Japa in Nigeria has for quite some time in Nigeria moved far beyond jokes and hashtags, it has become a lived reality that shapes how I see my past and my present. When I think back to my university days, the lecture halls were full of brilliance, people who debated ideas passionately, who stayed up late discussing business plans, and how they would “fix Nigeria.” Today, when I scroll through my contacts or social media, most especially Facebook and i dare say more than 60 percent of those same people are gone. Canada, the UK, the US, even places I barely knew Nigerians migrated to before. What was once an exception has become the norm.
What makes it harder to dismiss is that many of them actually seem to be doing better. One friend who struggled endlessly with unstable power and unpaid internships now talks about predictable work hours and savings plan. He used to be quite active on twitter or x always debating about Nigeria and he was always quite vocal about the ills of the country but after some time i noticed he hardly posts again or engage in arguments and i found out from a mutual friend that he had quietly migrated, and when i talked to him of recent, he shared a picture of his daughter with me. I was so happy for him. Another who couldn’t get basic lab equipment here sends pictures from a well-funded research facility abroad. Even those doing menial jobs overseas often speak with a kind of dignity that feels rare back home the dignity of effort being rewarded, of systems that at least try to work. The dignity of labor, you would think that here in Nigeria where we have massive unemployment people will not look down on people doing menial jobs to survive but opposite is the case. These stories don’t just travel back home, they persuade. They quietly reinforce the idea that leaving is not just an option, but the smart choice.
For those who stay, the absence is loud. Group chats grow quieter. Weddings happen over long distances with few friends. Communities lose skilled workers and creative people who could have been anchors and been the future. The loss is not an immediate collapse but it is a slow erosion. Institutions weaken and younger people grow up without local examples of success. The damage is cumulative. At the same time, it feels dishonest to frame japa or migrating as abandonment. Nigeria is exhausting in ways that are difficult to explain to outsiders. Inflation erases plans overnight. Insecurity dictates movement. Policies change without warning. Hard work more often than not guarantees survival. When a country repeatedly fails to protect the future of its young people, it quietly pushes them away. The tragedy of japa is not just that people are leaving, it is that so many brilliant minds feel they must leave to breathe. I cannot blame them, not when the country itself feels like it is running on borrowed time. But I also cannot ignore what it costs us collectively. Japa is an escape, yes. It is opportunity, undeniably but it is also loss being cumulative .