In 1960, Nigeria took charge of its own affairs, sending its colonial masters packing. When the British left, they essentially handed over a complex machine we had never been taught to drive, and so, our learning process began.

They say practice makes perfect, but Nigeria鈥檚 rehearsal was violently and repeatedly disrupted by military coups until 1999, when we finally had our longest, most stable stretch of democratic practice.

But in 2023, that practice session was disrupted yet again. Only this time, the disruption wasn鈥檛 wearing a military uniform but an agbada; it came from a civilian administration鈥攖he administration of Bola Tinubu.

This is how Nigeria鈥檚 democracy died in 2023.

Demo of democracy

Abraham Lincoln鈥檚 definition of democracy is perhaps the most quoted: 鈥済overnment of the people, by the people, for the people.鈥� Because of this popular definition, the most easily understood aspect of democracy for most people is choice. In other words, we get to vote for our leaders. Voting is a massive pillar of democracy. But it is certainly not the only one.

True democracy also relies on vital concepts like the separation of powers, free speech, freedom of the press, and strict respect for the rule of law. Proper democratic practice requires all these pillars to function together, not just focus entirely on elections. Nigeria has historically focused on the voting aspect of democracy, and famously struggled in the non-voting areas, but we have never had it quite this bad. Since 2023, we have watched these foundational pillars be completely demolished.

State capture 101

If you want to destroy a democracy, one of the first pillars to attack is the Separation of Powers. It is the fundamental principle that a government must be divided into independent arms and tiers to prevent absolute control.

The arms represent the functional divisions of power:

• The Executive: Implements and enforces laws.
• The Legislative: Formulates and passes laws.
• The Judiciary: Interprets laws and administers justice.

The tiers represent the geographical levels of governance:

• Federal
• State
• Local Government

In an ideal democracy, each arm and tier operates within its own constitutional boundaries, completely free from outside interference. This structural wall ensures they act as vital checks and balances on one another, keeping excessive power in check.

In reality, however, the Tinubu administration has embarked on the grandest鈥攐r at least the most successful鈥攃ampaign of state capture Nigeria has ever witnessed.

The minions ayes have it 

The ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) started the 10th Assembly with 59 out of 109 senators, and . For a ruling party, that is a perfectly respectable majority.

But the party spent the next three years aggressively recruiting opposition legislators to dump the parties that got them elected and switch to the APC. By March 2026, the APC had . That sits well above the two-thirds supermajority needed to ruthlessly force through legislation.

To put it simply: any law Tinubu wants passed will be passed. Even if every single opposition lawmaker votes against an executive bill, the APC lawmakers vastly outnumber them. They will always win the vote in the chamber. You might need to read that twice.

Tinubu on the throne

Even before the APC secured this massive supermajority, the National Assembly had already proved to be almost . Examples include rubber-stamping his move to change the national anthem, or their compliance when he suspended the democratically elected state government in Rivers State in 2025.

Whenever Tinubu needs something pushed through, he can confidently count on his yes-men at the  National Assembly, led by Senate President Godswill Akpabio, to get it done. The absolute surrender of the legislature’s constitutional oversight powers over the executive is perfectly embodied by Akpabio himself.

This is a man who actively sings 鈥淥n Your Mandate鈥� when Tinubu enters the senate chamber, and has literally declared that 

We are not even kidding. It is genuinely that bad. The Senate President is invoking monarch status on the President. It鈥檚  Akpabio鈥檚 job to keep Tinubu in check, yet he calls him a king. If that doesn鈥檛 tell you we鈥檙e in trouble, nothing will.

All politics is local

Okay, so the federal lawmakers bow to 鈥渒ing Tinubu鈥�. But what about the state governments? Surely, democratically elected governors鈥攙oted in by their own people鈥攃an stand up to federal bullying, right? You probably already know exactly where this is going.

The APC finished the 2023 elections with 21 governors out of the 36 states. But the campaign to take over the country has worked so well that .

This is where things get ugly. The way the APC and Tinubu have captured these governors shows a very brutal, undemocratic side to how they run the country.

Governors like Dauda Lawal of Zamfara State and Ademola Adeleke of Osun State meant for their states  to force them to join the APC. Sadly, the pressure worked. Just weeks after complaining that Abuja withheld up to 鈧�500 billion in palliative funds from Zamfara, Lawal in March 2026.

In Bauchi State, Governor Bala Mohammed has also of using agencies like the EFCC to harass him and his cabinet into switching parties.

Tinubu has also shown a willingness to unconstitutionally remove elected officials from their posts. In March 2025, Tinubu declared a state of emergency in Rivers State, deployed the military, and suspended the elected state government for 6 months.

And as you probably guessed, the rubber-stamp lawmakers in the National Assembly . Three months after the suspension ended, Governor Sim Fubara . In May 2025, we鈥檇 learn from Nyesom Wike that Fubara鈥檚 suspension was lifted overseen by Tinubu.

Democratically elected state governors shouldn’t have to switch to the President鈥檚 party just to get the money meant for their people, or to protect themselves from being locked out of their office, but here we are.

The welcoming party

But Tinubu doesn鈥檛 just expect these captured governors to run their states according to his will. No, he likes to parade them like trophies. This is most obvious in the bizarre airport ritual that has become a regular tradition under this administration.

Governors who should be busy managing their own states constantly leave their offices to travel to Abuja whenever he flies out of the country. Others fly across the world with him just to line up on the tarmac and shake his hand the moment he steps off the presidential jet, acting like a glorified welcoming committee.

We have even seen .

It is incredibly clear that this current crop of governors does not understand the basic rules of democracy or the independence that comes with their positions. They simply do not respect the weight and importance of their own offices.

But the bigger question is: do we, as Nigerians, truly realise just how messed up all of this actually is?

We鈥檝e never had it this bad

Since the return to democracy in 1999, Nigeria has gone through three major leadership eras before Tinubu:

• Olusegun Obasanjo (1999鈥�2007)
• Umaru Musa Yar’Adua & Goodluck Jonathan (2007鈥�2015)
• Muhammadu Buhari (2015鈥�2023)

While every single one of these past leaders had their flaws and definitely threw their weight around, the presidency was never as dangerously strong as it is right now. None of them managed to completely swallow up the rest of the government the way Tinubu has.

Old soldiers sometimes die

During the Obasanjo years, the ruling People鈥檚 Democratic Party (PDP) held almost as much numerical power as the APC does today. They grew from , , and in Obasanjo鈥檚 first term to a massive , , and in his second term.

But being members of the president’s party did not turn these politicians into his stooges. The Senate constantly fought Obasanjo, actively revolting against executive control by . In total, the friction was so intense that the upper chamber . They even over security issues. God when.

The defining moment of this legislative independence came in 2006, when Obasanjo bill to elongate his political career and secure a third term in office. Despite the PDP holding a commanding majority in the chamber, lawmakers looked the old military general in the eye and , permanently killing his dream of an extended presidency.

Today, the contrast is stark. There is not a single political analyst in Nigeria worth their salt who would tell you they are 100 per cent sure the current National Assembly would say no if Tinubu asked for the same thing.

Tinubu, was that not you I saw?

It鈥檚 ironic that Tinubu, in his time as governor, operated democratically and was not a pushover.

In the early 2000s, Tinubu was the Governor of Lagos State. When he created new Local Council Development Areas (LCDAs) without federal approval, President Obasanjo got angry and .

So, what did Tinubu do? Did he run to join the ruling PDP? Did he travel to Abuja to beg Obasanjo on his knees? Absolutely not. He stood his ground, .

It is incredibly ironic that a man who built his political career by using the independence of state governments to fight executive bullying is now the very president destroying those same pillars of democracy today.

Bad luck motel

Goodluck Jonathan saw out the remainder of Umaru Musa Yar鈥橝dua鈥檚 first term after the president passed away from a long illness. When Jonathan ran for his own fresh term in 2011, the PDP had , and . But having those numbers on paper did not guarantee smooth sailing. At almost every turn, the lawmakers and governors within his own party chose to make Jonathan鈥檚 tenure thoroughly miserable.

The trouble began immediately when the House of Representatives , Mulikat Akande-Adeola, electing Aminu Tambuwal instead. Jonathan and Tambuwal would go on to .

Worse was to come. Between 2013 and 2014, a massive wave of and defected en masse to the newly formed opposition party, the APC, effectively shattering the PDP鈥檚 absolute control over the National Assembly.

The pull-out the military method

The battle with the state governors was just as intense. In November 2013, five powerful PDP governors鈥攑opularly known as the nPDP鈥�. Governors like Rotimi Amaechi of Rivers State and Rabiu Kwankwaso of Kano State led a historic walkout and defected to the APC, instantly erasing the ruling party’s dominance across the states.

But since we are tracking political ironies, let鈥檚 look at a truly remarkable one: the bitter feud between Jonathan and Kashim Shettima, who was the Governor of Borno State at the time.

With his state sitting at the heart of the Boko Haram insurgency, Shettima the federal government鈥檚 handling of the security crisis. An exhausted and furious Jonathan lashed out publicly, even during a live broadcast to withdraw federal troops from Borno for a month just to see if Shettima 鈥渨ould stay in that government house.鈥�

Shettima later revealed that Jonathan had actively planned to suspend and remove him from office, much like Tinubu eventually did to Governor Fubara in Rivers State.

However, Jonathan was stopped dead in his tracks. Then-Speaker Aminu Tambuwal that he lacked the authority to sack an elected official. Even Jonathan鈥檚 own Attorney-General of the Federation, Mohammed Bello Adoke, backed by other cabinet members, looked the president in the eye and 鈥�”not even a [local government] councillor.”

During the Jonathan era, the legislature, the cabinet, and the country’s legal framework stood up to the president. They stood firmly on the core tenets of democracy and successfully protected Shettima鈥檚 rights from executive overreach.

Today, that same Kashim Shettima sits as the Vice President to Bola Tinubu鈥攁 leader who arbitrarily suspended an elected governor and dismantled a state government, fully aided and abetted by a completely subservient National Assembly.

The ironies are loud, clear, and incredibly tragic.

One battle after another

When Muhammadu Buhari won the 2015 election, his party, the APC, started the 8th National Assembly with , and .

Buhari was a former military dictator with a reputation for getting his way. But the 8th National Assembly, led by Senate President Bukola Saraki, quickly proved that a civilian presidency could not simply order the parliament around. 

The resistance started on day one. The APC leadership wanted Ahmed Lawal to lead the parliament, but . He , resulting in a historic anomaly: a ruling-party Senate President working alongside an opposition Deputy Senate President, Ike Ekweremadu.

For Buhari, those eight years were one battle after another with the National Assembly.

In 2016, at the height of an economic recession, Buhari sent a . In a move that would be unthinkable today, the Senate , citing a lack of detailed information and transparency.

The current Senate continues to approve loan requests after loan requests from Tinubu. And , you鈥檇 think they鈥檙e gunning for a world record.

Buhari nominated Ibrahim Magu to head the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC). Despite heavy pressure from the presidency, the Senate screened Magu and officially . Multiple times, we鈥檝e seen this Senate tell Tinubu鈥檚 executive picks to 鈥溾�� during confirmation hearings. They have completely abandoned the job of grilling the people who will run our ministries.

My state, my rules

Even the governors during the Buhari era maintained their independence. While the APC held 22 states, governors from both the ruling party and the opposition routinely challenged federal policies.

When Buhari tried to introduce the controversial Ruga cattle settlement policy nationwide, several state governors鈥攊ncluding opposition figures like Samuel Ortom of Benue State鈥攔esisted, forcing the federal government to .

Under Buhari, the executive had to fight, negotiate, and occasionally suffer embarrassing defeats at the hands of the other arms of government. The presidency was powerful but not absolute. That is how it鈥檚 meant to be.

The most powerful president

Compared to his predecessors, Bola Tinubu is the most powerful civilian president Nigeria has seen since 1999. His will is basically the law. But apart from proving that our democracy died in 2023, this absolute consolidation of power does something else: it shows us exactly who to blame for all our problems.

Goodluck Jonathan still argues that he was unable to implement the recommendations of the  due to . Buhari supporters can claim that his Ruga cattle settlement plan would have solved the deadly herder-farmer clashes if state governments hadn’t rejected it.

Tinubu has no such excuses. There is no policy he wants that he cannot push through the National Assembly, and no directive he cannot force state governors to implement. He has total control.

Yet, here we are. Nigeria is currently recording wartime numbers of conflict deaths. We are paying billions in ransom every year as the kidnapping epidemic spins completely out of control. Runaway inflation has made basic survival鈥攋ust buying food鈥攗naffordable for millions of citizens. During his tenure alone, over 16 million more Nigerians have fallen headfirst into poverty. The list of disasters goes on. Nigeria has become an incredibly dangerous and difficult place to live.

And remember: not a single plan to fix these issues has been blocked by a stubborn governor or a defiant Senate. Tinubu has had complete free rein. Yet, he has fixed nothing.

For the first time in Nigeria’s modern history, if there is anything you hate about the state of the country, you can lay it squarely at the feet of one single man鈥擝ola Tinubu.

It鈥檚 flatlining!

There is some good news. Our democracy may be dead right now, but it can always be resuscitated. The thing, though, is that it won’t happen by accident; it will take deliberate, aggressive effort from all of us.

As citizens, we must become fiercely active in politics. At this point, it is no longer just about civic pride or fulfilling a duty鈥攊t is pure self-defence. These past three years of the Tinubu presidency have proved one terrifying reality: a badly run Nigeria is fatal. Paying attention and participating in politics is how you protect your own life.

Follow the politics. Study the candidates and find out what their actual policy stances are. Decide who you are backing. Then, get your PVC before the upcoming deadlines and prepare to vote at all levels. We desperately need state and local governments and federal lawmakers with the spine to stand up to presidential overreach.

It is bad right now. It really is. But we can still save our democracy.

Nigerians, lock in.

We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us 鈥攚e鈥檇 love to hear from you!

Bambs (31) funded her relocation to the UK on a corper’s salary. In this story, she shares how her determination to practice nursing in a working environment saw her submit 20 applications a day and endure hundreds of rejections until she achieved her dream. She also shares the culture shocks she experienced in the UK, the best and worst parts of life abroad.

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

I live in the United Kingdom (UK). I left Nigeria in 2021, towards the end of the COVID-19 pandemic.

What inspired you to leave Nigeria?

To be honest, I had always wanted to leave. Growing up, I was drawn to healthcare and wanted to be a doctor or a nurse. But I quickly noticed a huge gap between what our nursing textbooks taught and the reality in Nigerian hospitals. That was when I realised I could not practice in Nigeria.

What do you mean?

For instance, textbooks teach you to use a defibrillator on a patient in cardiac arrest. Yet, most Nigerian hospitals鈥攁t least the ones I worked in鈥攄id not even have one, which is wild. My main motivation was simply wanting to practice nursing the proper way. After university, I completed my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) and immediately began my relocations process.

That is wild. How would you describe your working experience in Nigeria?

It gave me a solid foundation. Working in Nigeria taught me resilience, empathy, and how to perform under intense pressure. Nigerian healthcare workers do their absolute best, even when patients do not appreciate how far we go for them.

You could have a malnourished baby at the brink of death, and doctors and nurses will rally to save that child despite a lack of resources, poor infrastructure, and parents who cannot afford to pay. We do everything to give that child a chance at life, yet these efforts go unnoticed. Still, it taught me how to maximise the smallest resources to achieve the greatest good.

What was the relocation process like?

It was long and expensive, and I could barely afford it at the time. I had to work for a bit to save up, slowly taking the required exams and paying the processing fees.

I registered with the UK Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) and sat for my Computer-Based Test (CBT) in October. After that, I began job hunting. I aimed for 20 applications a day because I was that desperate to leave.

Throughout November, my routine after work was to shower, open my laptop, and apply for roles. Some days I submitted 20 applications, other days 30. Every Monday morning, I鈥檇 check my email and see a long list of rejections. I refused to let that discourage me because I knew I would make it. Whenever a rejection came, I reviewed my application, did some research, and refined my next attempt.

Out of hundreds of applications, I landed about ten interviews in December. I remember having   to take an interview while at work; I asked my colleagues to cover for me for 30 minutes while I took it in the toilet.

By January, those interviews turned into four job offers. I weighed the pay, location, and cost of living before choosing. They wanted me to resume in March, but I deferred it to April to spend time with my family. I quit my job in February and spent three weeks at home. The day I left, my mum and sister cried; it was an emotionally heavy moment.

It must have been. What was it like when you arrived in the UK?

There was a huge demand for migrant nurses in the UK at that time, so the hospital was recruiting a lot of nurses from Nigeria. They booked our flights, so we arrived as a cohort of Nigerian nurses. The UK was still under lockdown, so we had to be isolated for ten days in accommodation provided by the hospital. It was April, and I vividly remember how cold it felt that first day. I also struggled with the British accent; it felt like everyone spoke too fast.

Any culture shocks?

Yes. On our first day, we reached our accommodation around 4:00 PM. I was so exhausted, I went straight to sleep. When I woke up at 8:00 PM, it was still bright outside. I thought I had slept for 12 hours before I checked the time and realised that during the summer, the days are much longer here.

I constantly charged my phone out of the habitual fear of power outages in Nigeria; it took me some time to stop. I also struggled getting used to how the bus system works.

Then there was the food. I don’t like English food. I initially lived in a town without African stores, so I had to endure it. Eventually, I discovered other options like Asian and Mediterranean food.

Another shock was summer fashion. People wear very little clothing鈥攕hort skirts, shorts, and some men even walk around shirtless. Now I have started doing that too; in the summer, my legs are out.

Religion is also viewed differently here. It is treated as deeply personal, and you cannot be overt about it or impose it on others. It鈥檚 not like Nigeria, where you even have morning devotions at work.

Then there鈥檚 racism. Some people will literally cross the street to avoid walking near you because you are Black. You face differential treatment even at work. You only begin to understand these dynamics after living here for a while. I initially chalked it up to being new until I saw newly hired white colleagues receive completely different treatment. That is when it hits you: “Oh, it’s because I am Black.”

But you ultimately shrug it off and keep moving forward because you remember the sacrifices it took to get here.

How do you deal with racism?

I have learned to understand how the system works and use it to my advantage. When a patient was once racist to me, I informed my superior, who instructed me to file a report. The system provides real support for these issues, and the police can even get involved in some cases. Now, when it happens, I stand up for myself and use those safeguards the system provides to protect myself.

How do you feel about the wave of anti-immigrant rhetoric in UK politics?

It is deeply unsettling. Currently, after an asylum seeker stabbed someone. Last year, large anti-immigrant marches were organised by people demanding that foreigners leave. I was terrified at the time, and my family constantly checked on me. But there is little we can do besides pray and trust in God.

Do you feel your Nigerian education and work experience prepared you for the UK?

Yes. Honestly, Nigeria’s educational system is highly robust. I see newly qualified nurses from UK universities, and some of them don鈥檛 know anything. I often have to teach them. Seeing how easily it has been for me makes me incredibly grateful for my training back home.

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Have you been back to Nigeria since you moved?

Yes, I visited in 2023. I also hope to travel back this year. I have already asked for my leave so I can be in Nigeria for Detty December.

Nice. Do you see yourself returning to Nigeria permanently in the future?

I recently discussed this with a Zimbabwean colleague who is nearing retirement. She owns properties in Zimbabwe and plans to retire there for a comfortable life, which is wonderful. I used to share that dream, but with how things are going in Nigeria, I鈥檓 not sure it would be a wise decision. But if things change for the better, why not?

I鈥檓 also considering moving to the United States (US). I鈥檝e already passed the US nursing exams. In the UK, professional growth for nurses is a bit limited; you eventually hit a ceiling and plateau. In America, growth is astronomical, and nurses earn a lot more. I鈥檓 just not sure of the exact timeline yet. Relocating from Nigeria was stressful, and I am not entirely ready to repeat that process just yet, but I will move whenever the time is right.

What is your support system like in the UK?

First is my friends. Most of them are fellow nurses who arrived at different times. Since we don鈥檛 have family here, we lean on each other. My best friend and I moved at the same time鈥攕he flew from Lagos, and I flew from Abuja. We isolated together, learned together, and worked in the same hospital before some of us moved to other places. We take annual trips together, and every December, we have a potluck where we eat, party, and cry together.

My church has also been an incredible pillar. They organise forums that offer guidance on surviving in the UK. My pastor is highly approachable; you can call him at any time, even at midnight, and he will listen.

Of course, there鈥檚 my family back home too. Whenever I struggled initially, I would call my parents and cry. Settling in was tough; I cannot tell you how much I cried when I first came into this country. But my family鈥檚 support kept me going.

It is great that you have that support. What is your least favourite thing about the UK?

The winter. Oh my god! I hate the winter. If I make enough money, I will start leaving the UK from December through March to stay in Nigeria, and only work here from April to October.

What about your favourite things?

I love the economic reward system here. If you work, you will make money. In Nigeria, your salary is never enough, and even if you work extra shifts, it won鈥檛 make much difference.

I also love how safe it is. I live far from London, so when I go there for concerts, I often return home around 2:00 AM. I can walk from the train station to my house without worrying about being harassed. I could never dare do that where I grew up in Nigeria.

Travel is also incredibly affordable. If I want a weekend trip to Italy and have just 拢300, I can easily do it. I can fly out, chill for a few days, and come back. And 拢300 isn鈥檛 even a lot of money; I can make that in a single shift. It鈥檚 not like Nigeria, where going abroad is like a big flex; here, it is just a normal thing to do.

Do you travel frequently?

Quite a bit. I have visited Albania, Egypt, Morocco, Spain, Montenegro, Greece, and Rome. I am also heading to Monaco later this year. Mind you, I had planned that trip long before the whole Monaco craze that’s going on right now.

What has been your favourite trip so far?

Most have been fantastic. I thoroughly enjoyed my recent vacation to Egypt with a close friend. Mykonos was also incredibly relaxing; Greece is beautiful. I had the best pizza I have ever tasted in Rome. I went paragliding for the first time in Albania. I was just reciting Psalm 91 in the air because I thought I was going to die, but it was amazing.

Do you have a least favourite trip?

I鈥檒l say Morocco. We鈥檇 booked a resort in Agadir for my friend’s birthday, but we missed our direct flight. So we got a flight to Marrakesh and had to take a five-hour drive to Agadir. There were six girls in a car with a driver who only spoke Arabic and a bit of French. I used my limited French to communicate with.

The route had a lot of police checkpoints, and we drove past three horrific accidents with dead bodies on the road. We were absolutely terrified and spent the entire ride praying.

Despite the scary start, the vacation turned out to be incredible. I loved the resort, rode a camel, and even tried quad biking for the first time. It was a wonderful experience, but that first day was really scary.

What has been your worst experience in the UK?

Honestly, nothing here compares to the experiences from Nigeria. Growing up in Delta State, I saw a lot if you get what I mean.

My worst moments in the UK have been at work when I鈥檝e lost patients. Working in intensive care means dealing with patients on the verge of death. I do everything I can to save them, but sometimes they don鈥檛 make it. It is incredibly tough, especially when you have cared for them for a long time and have to comfort their grieving families. But it is part of the job.

What about your best experience?

I cannot pinpoint a single moment, but the good experiences definitely outweigh the bad.

On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK?

I would say an eight. Life is good here, and I always encourage people to move if they can. It is a great country.

Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me . For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT).

Folake* (22) left Nigeria in November 2023, one year before completing her Mass Communication degree, to move to the UK on a skilled worker visa. In this story, she tells us how she moved with her family, how she got the care job and the reasons she left in the first place.

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

I live in the UK. I left Nigeria in  2023.

What were you doing before you left?

I was a 19-year-old university student., I was in 300-level and I was studying Mass Communication.

Wow, you had just one year to go. What made you decide not to finish?

Honestly, I didn’t put much thought into it. Nigeria was getting worse. It wasn’t that things were so bad for me personally at the time, but you could see that it wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.

So I looked at the situation and asked myself: 鈥淥kay, finish school, and then what?鈥� I would have had a communications degree, but that wasn’t going to get me very far in that environment. The UK felt like a place where I could try things, switch directions if something didn’t work out, and not feel like I was starting from zero every time.

Was it hard to leave school behind?

A year before I moved, I had already tried to make it happen on my own; this was around my 100-level second-semester, during the long ASUU strike. I got a job lead and tried to apply for a visa, but it wasn’t coming through quickly enough, so I let it go and figured it would happen when it did.

By the time I got to 300 level, things were looking really grim, and there was a change on the family front: my parents were moving to the UK. I had to decide whether to stay back to finish or leave with them. I decided to leave, and having my parents involved made the difference this time around. If I had done it alone, it would have been a real struggle, financially and emotionally. But with my family’s support, I barely had to deal with the logistics. I went to my embassy interview; they called me to say my visa was ready, and I packed my bags.

Walk me through the visa application process. What type is it and how does it work?

I’m on a skilled worker visa. Basically, you need to get a job with an employer who is willing to sponsor you. The UK has a list of jobs that qualify under the skilled worker route, including healthcare, some tech roles, and others. My job was in mental health support, which falls under healthcare.

Once your employer agrees to sponsor you, they issue you something called a Certificate of Sponsorship. You take that, along with your other documents, and submit an application to the Home Office for your visa.

What documents did you need to submit?

The Certificate of Sponsorship number, your passport, and proof of funds. Sometimes they also ask for a job offer letter and a contract of employment. In my case, I had the offer letter but not the contract yet; the contract came when I arrived in the UK. So in my application, I noted that the contract wouldn’t be available until I was on the ground, and that was fine.

Your job was in mental health support. How did you find it?

My aunt knew someone who owned a care company and mentioned there were openings. That was it. It was an entry-level role, so I didn’t need prior experience in the field. As long as you can show good communication skills, demonstrate that you’re willing to be trained, and you鈥檙e good at your maths and English abilities, you can get those jobs. It’s a bit harder now because employers want more certifications upfront, but at the time, the interview was enough.

Are skilled worker visa holders allowed to work other jobs aside from the one that sponsored them? 

On a skilled worker visa, you’re allowed to take on additional part-time work, but you can’t exceed 20 hours a week across those extra roles. The other important thing is that the extra work has to be in the same industry as the job that brought you in. Because I came in through mental health support, I can do any other type of care work on the side 鈥� domiciliary care, a care home, or children’s support. It just has to stay within the care space.

Want to share your japa story? Please reach out to me.

What’s the pay like? Is it worth it in your opinion?

It鈥檚 around 拢12.50 an hour, though you get more if you work on the weekends or public holidays. You can earn up to 拢13 to 拢15 on those days. For the kind of care work involved, I think some people should be paid more; the rate should reflect the level of need you’re managing, because not every client is the same. But it’s not as if they’re underpaying you. It’s a livable wage. If you’re working four days a week, doing 12-hour shifts, you can earn between 拢1,800 and 拢2,000 a month. If you pick up extra work, you can get to around 拢2,500.

And what does monthly life cost where you live?

My city is cheaper than London, but it’s not cheap either. If you live on your own, your rent, council tax, water, and electricity should come to around 拢1,200-拢1,500 a month. Add food, phone, and any other bills, and 拢1,500 is a realistic ceiling. So the margin isn’t massive, especially on a single income, but it’s workable. That phase doesn’t last forever if you’ve got a plan.

What was your first week in the UK like?

Very uneventful. I arrived in winter, went straight from the airport to the house, and was indoors almost the entire time. I was doing my mandatory online training before starting the job, surrounded by family. There wasn’t much culture shock right away; it was more gradual. The thing that stood out eventually was how individualistic life here is. 

In Nigeria, you walk around, and people acknowledge you; you know people’s business, and they know yours. Here, everyone is on their own. Nobody is really paying attention to what’s going on with you. That took some adjusting.

Have you been able to find community?

It’s difficult, honestly. I think it’s easier if you come in as a student because you’re in class with people, and you can find your people naturally. As a young worker, it’s harder. At most of the places I’ve worked, I’ve been the youngest person by a significant margin, so connecting with colleagues hasn’t been easy. I did a diploma programme here to qualify for university entry, and that’s where I’ve made a few friends. I’ve heard Hinge has a “friends” mode that some people use to find community. I haven’t tried it personally, but people say it works.

What do you love most about being in the UK?

I love the financial freedom. I wasn’t working in Nigeria, so I was fully dependent on my parents. Now that I earn, I can make my own plans, and they are likely to actually work out. There’s not much that will derail you if you’ve got something going. It’s a stable economy. That stability is everything.

Is there anything you genuinely don’t like?

It’s boring and lonely. Especially when you didn’t grow up here, and you don’t already have a ready-made social circle. That’s the real trade-off nobody talks about enough. I don’t regret moving with my family. I genuinely could not imagine doing this alone.

Have you experienced racism or prejudice?

Nothing overt, at least not to my face. The Brits are a bit more posh about it, unlike Americans. I’ve had a few strange looks and a few interactions that would have gone differently if I were someone else. There are experiences at work, even from clients who are supposed to be experiencing mental health difficulties, where you can tell race is a factor in the way they treat you. If you’re in the middle of an episode and you can still clock that I’m Black and say something racist, that says something about you.

The racism I face has been more systemic. There are things my white colleagues are afforded the space to do that I would face consequences for, and sometimes the person enforcing that isn’t even white themselves. It鈥檚 internalised hate. And there’s also the reality of being an immigrant whose visa is tied to the job; that vulnerability means many people absorb behaviour from employers they absolutely shouldn’t have to.

Do you miss Nigeria?

Yes. I miss the lifestyle 鈥� being a student, being carefree, not having this much at stake. I miss the way you can just be yourself back home, around people who’ve known you your whole life. The freedom of not having a visa hanging over your decisions. I’m not the type to tolerate rubbish from people, but I find myself having to calculate things here in a way I never would have at home. And the food. I miss the food.

Do you have plans to go back?

Not permanently, no, at least not based on what I can see right now. I might not stay in the UK forever, but I don’t see myself moving back to Nigeria. My plan is to get my midwifery degree here, and once I build something like that here, it wouldn’t make sense to leave a pound-earning life unless things seriously improve back home. Nigeria needs help. It really does. As for visiting, yes, I want to, but the degree is coming out of pocket, so financially it’s just not happening right now.

What advice would you give someone who wants to follow this exact route?

Build yourself up as quickly as you can once you arrive. Get your driver’s licence done. Get your care certifications, your National Vocational Qualification (NVQ) Level 3 or Level 5, whatever level is appropriate for where you’re starting from. 

The reason this matters is that it gives you options. There is a lot of employer abuse that happens in this industry, especially with immigrants, and the visa situation makes people feel trapped. If you’ve got your certifications, you can move to a different job. 

So don’t stay in a situation that doesn’t serve you just because you’re afraid of losing sponsorship. Start job hunting while you’re still in that job, make the transition, but don’t let bad employers hold you hostage.

On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your life in the UK?

I鈥檇 say a Seven. I don’t like stress, and this is stressful. I鈥檓 happy, though. Every plan I have is moving, slowly, but moving. Nothing is derailing it. That’s what I came here for, and it’s happening. So seven feels right.

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Today, World Environment Day,  in Baku, Azerbaijan, world leaders are gathering under a beautiful theme: “Inspired by Nature. For Climate. For Our Future.” They will take photos. They will give speeches, and then they will fly home on private jets.

Meanwhile, in Nigeria, the rain is coming. And we already know what that means.

We鈥檝e been behind for a long time. We Just Didn’t Know It Yet

In 2015, Nigeria had a government that made a lot of promises about the environment. said we would reach 23% clean electricity by 2025. The target for electricity access was ambitious: move from 40% of the population having power to 75% by 2020. The forests, though already devastated, between 2000 and 2005, Nigeria had lost 55.7% of its primary forest, giving it the highest deforestation rate in the world over that period, were supposed to be protected and restored.

In reality, most of us were just trying to manage NEPA (electricity). You would know, you were also managing.

The warning signs were already there. . Floods, drought, and desertification were already degrading the environment, especially in the semi-arid north. Nearly three-quarters of Nigerian households were using wood fuel for cooking. The land was tired, the air was dirty and polluted, and the government’s plan for all of it was mostly a PDF.

Today, June 5, 2026: Are We Any Closer To An Environmentally Safe Country?

Here is the current state of the country you live in

On electricity: Every single target from 2015 has been missed. Only 21 megawatts of renewable capacity were added between 2015 and 2022. In 2024, fossil gas still supplied about 80% of electricity generation. The share of renewables in Nigeria’s overall power mix has barely changed over the last five years. Over still lack reliable electricity. We did not solve the generator problem. We just started buying solar.

On floods: Flooding is no longer a disaster in Nigeria. It is a yearly subscription, one Nigerian can鈥檛 remember subscribing to. , flooding killed over 1,200 people, injured at least 2,712, and displaced 1.2 million across 31 states. Then 2025 came, and one single flood in Mokwa, Niger State, killed over 500 people, left 600 missing, destroyed more than 4,000 homes, collapsed two bridges, and swept away two roads. The cause? Heavy rainfall, yes. But also: poor drainage and deforestation.

We are not just victims of climate change. We are contributors to our own suffering.

On plastic: Nigeria generates more than , with over 70% ending up in landfills, drainage channels, and water bodies. Lagos alone generates between 50 million and 60 million discarded sachet water nylons every single day. Every. Single. Day. Those nylons are not disappearing. They are sitting in your drainage. And when the rain comes, they are the reason your street becomes a river.

On forests: hectares of tree cover, at a rate of 163,000 hectares per year, the 15th fastest deforestation rate among all nations. The trees are not growing back fast enough. The desert is not waiting.

The maths is not mathing, and that鈥檚 because nothing has changed

If Nigeria continues on its current path, the floods will get worse and more frequent because deforestation keeps removing the natural buffers that absorb rainfall. Food prices will keep rising because northern farmlands will keep shrinking as the Sahara moves south. More people will die in their homes during rainy seasons, not from bad luck, but from policy failure dressed up as an act of God. 

Nigeria has , but there is a major funding gap, and experts criticise the continuing lack of grid access for millions of citizens, pointing to funding problems, energy loss, corruption, and poor maintenance as the core drivers of the crisis.

by Climate Analytics and the New Climate Institute currently rates Nigeria’s climate targets and policies as “Almost sufficient”, which sounds polite until you realise that “almost” is doing a lot of heavy lifting in a country where . 

The trajectory for 2036, without mincing words, does not look promising, especially if the current pace holds. More sachet water is blocking more drains. More families will rebuild from flood damage they cannot afford. More generators, more fuel costs, more carbon in the air. It鈥檚 a natural disaster armageddon.

So Who Is Actually Responsible Here?

Let us be clear about this, because too many people want to make this a “we all have a role to play” conversation and then go home feeling good about themselves.

The government owes you big time

The Federal Ministry of Environment exists. NESREA (the National Environmental Standards and Regulations Enforcement Agency) exists. The National Emergency Management Agency exists. These are not volunteer organisations. They are funded by your taxes to protect you from exactly what is happening right now.

The government is responsible for building and maintaining drainage infrastructure. For enforcing the laws against illegal dumping. For holding oil companies accountable for the decades of devastation in the Niger Delta. For funding the Great Green Wall reforestation effort properly, not just on paper. They are responsible for ensuring that Nigeria’s NDC 3.0 climate commitments, including the pledge announced by Vice President Kashim Shettima to r,  actually happen on the ground and not just in a UNGA speech.

Hold them to it. Ask your local government rep why your drainage is blocked. Ask your state government why the environmental impact of that new development was not assessed. Ask the federal government why the National Gas Expansion Programme, designed to convert over 30 million homes from wood fuel to LPG, has seen no significant developments.

You owe yourself and your neighbours

Stop throwing sachets on the ground. That is not a moral lecture; what it is is a direct line between your behaviour and your street flooding in July. Those 50 to 60 million sachet bags Lagos produces every day? They come from hands. Our Hands. 

Here is what you can actually do, starting today

Sort your waste: Many estates and local waste collectors now accept separated plastics. Apps like Wecyclers and Pakam connect Lagos and Abuja residents to recyclers who will pay them for their sorted waste. Turning your rubbish into money is the most Nigerian solution to an environmental problem that has ever existed. 

Stop burning: Open burning of household waste releases toxic fumes and contributes to the very air quality crisis that is quietly damaging lungs across the country. If your estate burns waste in a corner, push back and report it to your state environmental protection agency or your local government.

Go outside and plant something: The Nigerian Conservation Foundation runs community tree-planting programmes you can join or support. The Great Green Wall Nigeria initiative is actively looking for partners at the local government level. One tree does not fix a forest, but 200 million Nigerians planting one tree each absolutely does.

Use your voice as a citizen and consumer. We cannot ask for change and not play our part in bringing that change to fruition.

The Bottom Line

World Environment Day is not a day to feel inspired and then go back to normal. It is a day to look at the numbers: , , the 50 million sachet bags Lagos throws away before lunch, according to , and decide that “normal” is not acceptable.

The floods are not a coincidence, the dying forests are not a coincidence, the food inflation people are complaining about at the market is directly connected to soil degradation and drought in the north.

The government must do its job, and while it is busy deciding on how to do it,  we must do ours.

Happy World Environment Day. Now go sort your waste.

Kelechi (21) left Nigeria at the end of 2023 on a fully funded scholarship to study medicine in Moscow, only for it to be discontinued. In this story, he compares life in Russia to Nigeria and shares how he makes ends meet after being left financially stranded by the Nigerian government.

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

I live in Moscow, Russia. I left Nigeria in late 2023.

What inspired you to leave Nigeria?

Honestly, I didn鈥檛 have a particularly strong reason to leave. I just got an opportunity, and I took it. I had already gained admission into the University of Lagos (UNILAG) to study medicine, but then the scholarship for Russia came through, and I chose that instead.

How did you get the scholarship?

It was a government scholarship鈥攁 bilateral education agreement between Russia and Nigeria. Russia covered the tuition in full, and Nigeria was supposed to handle transport and upkeep for the duration of the studies.

However, the programme is officially dead as of 2026. They’ve cancelled it and issued saying they won’t be accepting new applicants. Those of us already here can finish our studies since the Russian government handles tuition. But the stipends for upkeep from Nigeria have basically stopped.

They picked students from each state, and selection was based on their grades in the West African Examination Council (WAEC) exams.

So, what were the first few weeks in Moscow like?

The weather hit me hard. I wasn鈥檛 prepared for it. We were warned that the temperature went to negative figures, but knowing and feeling are two completely different things. It was my first time seeing snow, my first time experiencing that kind of cold. It was almost painful, but eventually, I got used to it.

The other thing was how individualistic everyone is. People just mind their business. They respect each other’s space and just get on with their lives. Coming from Nigeria, that’s very different.

What about the language? How did you get around that?

So, the government actually accounted for that. None of us spoke Russian, so we were enrolled in a mandatory one-year Russian language programme. Nine months of actual instruction and three months of summer break. It was after that year of Russian studies that we started our first year of university. It wasn’t optional; you had to do it. I speak above-average Russian now.

When you eventually started university, what surprised you most about the academic environment?

The lecturers, honestly. Some of them actually love their jobs, and you can tell. It’s not hard to reach them; their email addresses and contact information are accessible, and they’re willing to help. The resources are also on another level compared to what I expected coming from Nigeria.

In Nigeria, access to a cadaver is a big deal鈥攍ike a once-in-a-blue-moon situation. In Russia, we have cadavers, 3D life-size anatomical models, robotic parts, AI-assisted abdominal models, and photo-realistic brain models. When we studied rat anatomy, every single student got their own rat brain to dissect. Every student got their own histology specimen. In physiology, we had Electrocardiogram (ECG) machines and heart rate monitors that everyone could use.

The class sizes are capped at 20 students, so there’s always enough space and resources for everyone.

When are you expected to graduate?

If things go according to plan, 2029.

Does the scholarship have any academic performance requirements?

Yes. Your GPA cannot fall below 3.0. The Russian government is paying your tuition, and it鈥檚 not cheap; it is about 鈧�20 million. So if your grades drop below that point, you get expelled and lose your student visa. You’ll need to leave the country.

Are your classes taught in Russian or English?

I study in Russian, but some students in the programme study in English; it depends on what you choose.

Let’s talk about money. What did the Nigerian government stipend look like?

The programme had been running for over 15 to 20 years. I heard from people who have been here for a while that they originally got a consistent $500 monthly stipend. But as Nigeria’s economic situation worsened, the payments began to decline.

By the time I got there, they’d unofficially cut it by about 60 per cent, and it wasn’t just the amount; the frequency dropped too. Instead of monthly, they were paying every six months, every eight months, sometimes once a year, and even then, it was almost never in full.

In my first year, they paid us in full, the stipends for all twelve months, all at once. After that, it was less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. At this point in 2026, I’m not expecting any more payments; that’s just my honest read of the situation.

Is $500 a month even enough to live on in Moscow?

If they paid it properly and consistently, it would be doable. You’d still have to be very disciplined with money, though. You can’t be careless, eating at restaurants every week, but it’s manageable for a student.

The problem is that as they reduced it and made it irregular, it became nowhere near enough. It began forcing people to take on extra work to make ends meet, which in turn started affecting academics, which is the main reason we鈥檙e here.

罢丑别听聽is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

That鈥檚 so sad. So, what kind of jobs were students taking on?

Restaurant jobs, delivery, call centres, your typical part-time stuff. But the one I’d say is the most useful, and the most viable for Nigerians specifically, is teaching English. Almost every Nigerian can teach English, and if you pick up enough Russian to communicate, you can teach English to Russian kids and actually make money. That鈥檚 what has worked for me here.

And how do you balance that with medical school?

The balance is almost non-existent. Medical school doesn’t give you that kind of breathing room. Some people work just enough hours to cover the minimum for the week and keep their grades intact. Others sacrifice academic performance to work more and be more comfortable. It’s a choice nobody should have to make, but that’s where we see ourselves now.

Has the Russia-Ukraine war had any impact on your daily life in Moscow?

Not really. The war is in Ukraine; it’s not something you feel in Moscow the way people outside might imagine. The scholarship programme itself didn’t end because of the war. Other countries that also have issues with Russia are still bringing students in. It鈥檚 purely Nigeria’s situation that ended our programme.

The one thing I’ll say is that the cost of living has gone up a bit. Meat, for example, used to be really, really cheap here; now it has tripled in cost. Milk too. But these are not life-threatening changes. We can still afford to eat. It鈥檚 just not as cheap as it used to be.

Have you experienced racism in these three years?

I feel like racism is non-existent in Moscow. I think bias exists everywhere and in everyone. But Moscow is a proper metropolis. There are enough Africans who have lived here long enough that the locals are used to having us around. You’re not a new thing; you’re on the same level as everyone else, and that’s how they treat you.

The only time you feel any kind of friction is when there’s a language barrier. If you can’t communicate with someone as well as they’d like, that creates awkwardness. But that’s a language issue, not a race issue.

After your studies, do you see yourself coming back to Nigeria?

Of course. Nigeria is my country. I love home. After I graduate, I want to come back and contribute by using what I’ve learned here to do something useful back home. But that doesn’t mean I’m closing the door on Russia either.

If I can get documents like the , which is like a permanent residence card, that would let me move freely between both countries, I’d want to do that. I’m keeping all my options open. But home is home.

On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in Moscow?

I’d say a nine. It’s a modern city with working infrastructure and an incredible transport system. If the train app says you’ll be somewhere in two hours, you’ll be there in exactly two hours. It has everything: good education, flexible work, opportunities, and new experiences. The only reason it’s not a ten is the war.

Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me . For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT).

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In 2021, Austin (42) left Nigeria for the United Kingdom (UK) with his wife because he didn鈥檛 want to raise their two children in a country with high insecurity and low living standards. Two years later, he moved to Canada for an even better life. This is how he did it.

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

I’m currently living in Ontario, Canada, but it’s been a long journey. I left Nigeria in October 2021, and I went to the UK first. I never even thought I’d end up in Canada. My family and I spent about two years in the UK, then moved to Canada in December 2023. 

What was life like in Nigeria before you left, and what finally made you decide to go?

I worked for an investment company as a stockbroker and also had some business interests on the side. Things were genuinely going well. Still, I’d always wanted to leave, though I wasn’t desperate about it. It was one of those things where I thought, if it happens, fine; if it doesn’t, fine.

Then Buhari became president, and things started to nose-dive. The EndSARS situation happened, and by then, I already had kids and was just starting to look at everything differently.

The moment that really triggered my need to leave was one day when NEPA brought light, and my eldest daughter, who was just about three years old at the time, shouted: “Up NEPA!” I sat there thinking that this little girl was already celebrating electricity as if it were a miracle. My parents did the same thing. My generation did the same thing, and now my own child. It was like, this country was never going to change.

That was the deal-breaker for me, but it wasn’t just that. The safety situation was also a big one. 

How did you start the process of moving to the UK?

I called a friend of mine who was already in the UK and asked how he did it. He told me that with around 鈧�3 million back then, I would be able to get myself to the UK. After that call, I went and did my own research.

We went through the student visa route. The UK uses a points-based system, so once you meet the required points, your school acceptance letter, proof of funds, and so on, it鈥檚 very likely the visa officer will sign off on it. It’s more within your control than something like the US visa, where your fate is basically in the hands of the consular on that day.

My wife was the primary applicant. She got admitted to Teesside University in Middlesbrough to study Public Health for her master’s, and I applied as her dependent, along with the kids. Back then, the UK still allowed dependents under the student visa route.

What did the whole UK application cost?

Tuition was around 拢11,000. Visa fees were roughly 拢400 per person. And then flights for the four of us came to around 720,000 naira. It was supposed to be cheaper, but we booked late because the visas came out close to the resumption date, so we ended up paying more.

How did the visa timeline work?

We applied for my wife’s visa first, and it took about six to seven weeks to come out. We heard the main applicant should apply first because if you apply as a whole family, it might raise flags with some visa officers who might think you’re all trying to run away. So we staggered it, her first, then the rest of us.

By the time our visas were needed, there were only three weeks left before resumption. So we paid for express processing, which took seven days.

Wow, that’s interesting. Did you use an agent for any of this?

No. I did the entire application myself. And that’s my strong advice to anyone: don’t rely on agents. The information is out there. As long as you meet the requirements, you don’t need anybody to do this for you. 

That鈥檚 solid advice. What was the first week in the UK like?

We landed and stayed with a friend in Middlesbrough. It’s important to hold a lot of funds when you’re moving to a country like the UK because you genuinely don’t know what you’re walking into. This was also just after the COVID lockdown, so things were still uncertain.

Getting accommodation was one of the hardest things. Middlesbrough is a student area, so there was high demand and many immigrants in similar situations. We couldn’t find a place within the town itself and had to look outside Middlesbrough before we found something we could move into.

What cultural shocks hit you the hardest?

Everything. The transportation system. The British accent was very hard for me to get accustomed to. The weather, too, was another thing that really shocked me; even in October, it was cold in a way I didn’t expect. 

When you experience a country where things actually work, you start to realise the dysfunction you’d been living in back in Nigeria. The way they value human life. The way the system is structured, you don’t need to know anyone to get a job; you don’t need an uncle or an aunt or anyone to pull a string for you. We were seeing this and thinking: This is just how things should work. It was as if we were becoming human for the first time.

Right-hand drive was also new, and since I’m not really into British food, we went with a lot of Nigerian food from home.

How did you manage financially in those early months?

I was still working remotely for my Nigerian employer when we first arrived, so that helped. But I also got a job at an Amazon warehouse, the pay was around 拢14 an hour, which was more than enough to cover our costs.

Our rent at the time was 拢450 a month, and we were spending less than 拢200 a month on food. School fees for the kids were free. So we weren’t burning through our savings; we were actually managing well. My wife also started a part-time job after settling in a bit.

So why did you leave the UK for Canada?

By the time I was ready to think about settling properly, I had already transitioned from a healthcare assistant role into tech. I was working as a business analyst. The company I was working with wasn’t going to sponsor my visa. My healthcare job had been willing to sponsor me, but I didn’t want to go back to healthcare when I’d already moved into tech. So we had that dilemma: do I go backwards just to get a sponsorship?

On top of that, the UK was already tightening its policies. So my wife and I sat down and thought about Canada. The pathway to permanent residency there is more straightforward and more accessible, especially for younger people, through things like Express Entry. We decided to apply for a student visa from the UK and move the whole family to Canada.

Was the Canadian application process complicated?

No, it was seamless, just documents, forms, and meeting requirements. I applied first, and once my application was approved, I applied for the family. We didn’t have to come back to Nigeria; we applied directly from the UK. The visa application fee wasn’t expensive at all. The tuition, however, that’s another story. Tuition in Canada is significantly more expensive than in the UK. But it is what it is.

I studied Global Supply Chain Management in Ontario.

What’s the biggest difference between the UK and Canada?

Honestly, both places give you the basics that are completely missing in Nigeria: good roads, stable electricity, and security. Those are what we’re actually looking for. It’s not complicated.

The main differences are the accent and the transportation. The UK has a very extensive train network; you can get anywhere without a car, which is great. Canada is completely different. It’s the second-largest country in the world by land mass, with a population of only about 40 million, so the infrastructure to support that kind of public transport just doesn’t exist the same way. Having a car is basically a must.

What do you love most about life in Canada?

The basic things that shouldn’t even be luxuries. When you’re sick, they treat you first; there’s no “deposit 鈧�10,000 before we attend to you.” I’m not sleeping with one eye open, listening to generator noise. I’m not scared that my kids might not come home from school. I’m not afraid of entering a bus and something happening to me. Those things sound small, but they’re not. Personally, I feel this is just what life is supposed to look like.

Do you miss Nigeria at all?

Honestly? No. Maybe the food sometimes, but we get a lot of Nigerian and African food here, so even that is covered. I miss my family, though, but we do video calls so often that it feels like we’re in the same house.

And when you’re on social media, and you see what’s still happening there, it doesn’t make you want to go back. I have no immediate plans to visit.

What’s your advice for someone who wants to japa?

Do your own research. Sit down with your laptop, open the internet, and put in the work. People make agents sound like a necessity, but they’re not. If you meet the requirements, you can do this yourself. Agents often use false information, and you end up paying for something you could have done on your own.

Beyond that, be strategic. Know your end goal before you start. If you’re going abroad and you want to stay, you need to know the pathways to permanent residency before you even apply for your first visa. Don’t just follow what everyone else is doing. We’ve seen people arrive here, only to be back in Nigeria two years later because they didn’t have a plan.

Canada has more pathways to residency than the UK right now, like the Express Entry, provincial programmes, and others, especially if you’re young. The UK is tightening things more and more.

Just do your own research. The information is there; you just have to go get it.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your life in Canada?

Ten out of ten. And I say that specifically because of where we’re coming from. Some people in Nigeria will live their entire lives without ever experiencing what good governance feels like, and that’s what makes it painful. Coming here and seeing how life should actually be lived, that’s a privilege I take seriously.

I’m not rich. Abroad, nobody’s really trying to be extremely wealthy in the Nigerian sense. What I want is to be able to afford the basics, and here I can. My wife is working, and my kids are in school. I’m working two jobs 鈥� as a procurement officer and a part-time healthcare worker. We’re not struggling. Nothing is missing. That’s why I鈥檓 giving it a ten.

Want to share your japa story? Please reach out to me .

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罢丑别听聽is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

Three years ago, many Nigerian workers weren’t exactly living large, but they could still afford the basics. Rent was manageable, transport didn’t eat up a huge chunk of their salaries, and some people could even save a little at the end of the month.

Today, many 9-to-5 workers say that’s no longer the case.

As President Tinubu marks three years in office, we asked Nigerian workers how their lives have changed since 2023. Their responses reveal a pattern of shrinking purchasing power, rising living costs, side hustles, layoffs, and everyday compromises that have quietly reshaped what it means to earn a salary in Nigeria.

1. 鈥淚 never imagined I’d have to move back in with my parents鈥� 鈥� Charles*, 29, M

As of 2021, my 鈧�250k salary was enough to sustain me comfortably because I lived alone in a self-con and had very few responsibilities. But now, everything is more expensive.

My rent increased from 鈧�400,000 per year to 鈧�850,000. I could no longer afford to live on my own. I eventually had to move back in with my parents just to survive. I never imagined I would have to take that step again.

2. 鈥淚 became a part-time Korope driver to make ends meet鈥� 鈥� Chibuzo*, 36, M

Before 2023, my salary wasn’t much, but my wife and I could manage the basics and keep the house in order. It wasn’t easy, but it worked. These days, things are much harder, so I became a part-time Korope driver to make ends meet.

My job closes around 4:30 p.m., and from there, I go straight to driving. Even though I do it to add a little to what I earn from my job, it still doesn’t solve the problem because I have to share the money with the vehicle owner at the end of the day.

3. 鈥淓very day, I’m scared I could be next鈥� 鈥� Afolabi, 27, M

When I joined this company a few years ago, I had about eight people on my team. Over the past two years, many of my colleagues have been laid off because the company says it can’t afford everyone’s salaries. Now there are only four of us left.

Every few months, somebody else leaves, and the workload keeps increasing for the rest of us. These days, I come to work with the fear that it could be my turn too one day.

4. 鈥淚’m this close to quitting my job鈥� 鈥� Mayowa*, 29, M

I started teaching at this private primary school in 2021, and back then, most classes had about 20 to 25 students. Over the last two years, I’ve watched those numbers drop drastically, mostly because many parents can no longer afford the school fees.

Now, some classes are nowhere near as full as they used to be, and it’s starting to affect how often we get paid. Honestly, I’m this close to quitting.

5. 鈥淚 miss when things were easier for everybody鈥� 鈥� Esther*, 27, F

Back in 2022, whenever I closed late and couldn’t find a bus going home, one of my co-workers would offer to take me home with him. It became a routine, and whenever I tried to contribute to fuel, he always told me not to bother.

Recently, he asked me to start paying for fuel. I’m not complaining because I know fuel is expensive and he’s doing me a favour. I just miss when things were easier for everybody.

6. 鈥淚 genuinely wonder how people are expected to survive on these salaries鈥� 鈥� Priscilla, 31, F

I worked in my previous field for about three years before deciding to switch careers. The year I got a new job was the same year Tinubu came into power, and job hunting since then has been exhausting.

Most of the openings I see now offer between 鈧�150,000 and 鈧�200,000. It honestly feels discouraging, considering my experience level and how expensive everything has become. Sometimes I look at these salaries and genuinely wonder how people are expected to survive on them.

7. 鈥淚 was shocked by how much our hampers changed鈥� 鈥� Mariam*, 46, F

I’ve been working at the same company for years, and before 2023, our end-of-year hampers were always full. Because of my position, I would get things like a 25kg bag of rice, power banks, biscuits, chocolates, and other gifts. But ever since December 2024, it has just kept reducing.

Last December, there was no rice and no gadgets. We were only given a small box of biscuits and chocolates. I was genuinely shocked.

8. 鈥淢y transport fare quadrupled鈥� 鈥� Kemi*, 26, F

Before 2023, my transport to and from work was 鈧�500. The day after the fuel subsidy removal announcement, my transport to work alone became 鈧�500.

Today, I spend about 鈧�2,000 just getting to work, and that’s not even counting the journey back home. It still doesn’t make sense to me.

9. 鈥淲orking from home didn’t save me money after all鈥� 鈥� Precious*, 29, F

After Tinubu came into power, my transport fare increased from 鈧�400 to 鈧�1,400. To help workers cope, my company switched to a hybrid schedule. I honestly thought it would help me save money. Instead, electricity became more expensive. Data became more expensive, too. I’ve spent so much money trying to keep my home workspace running that sometimes it feels like whether I stay at home or go to the office, I’m still spending money I can’t afford to lose.

10. 鈥淲e had to sell our car to take care of our family鈥� 鈥� Eniola*, 36, F

My husband and I used to go to work together every day because our offices were close to each other. He would drop me off in the morning and pick me up after work. It worked well for years.

But recently, things became too expensive, especially the cost of maintaining the car. We eventually had to sell it so we could focus on caring for our children and keeping the family afloat. Now we spend almost twice as much on transport every day.

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For many Nigerians, therapy is still surrounded by stigma, misconceptions, and questions about whether it actually works. But for those who have had access to it, therapy has become a turning point. It has helped people process grief, heal from trauma, build healthier relationships, and better understand themselves.

In this piece, Nigerians share how therapy changed their lives.

1. “I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore鈥� 鈥� Simi*, 27, F

I started therapy in 2019 at a government hospital in Lagos because it was all I could afford. I was sceptical at first, but anxiety was completely kicking my ass, and I needed help.

My therapist changed my life. Even after I moved from Lagos, she continued doing phone sessions with me for free through COVID, grief from losing my dad, and everything else 2020 threw at me.

Things still aren’t perfect, but I handle life a lot better now. I’ve been off medication for a while, and I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. I owe it all to my wonderful therapist.

2. 鈥淭herapy helped me realise I still deserve help鈥� 鈥� Kelechi*, 25, F

I fell into a depression after I was attacked on my way home from work one day. Eventually, I reached out to a therapist in Abuja because I knew I was getting dangerously close to breaking point.

I’d tried therapy before with someone online in the US, but I connected more with the Nigerian therapist. She was gentle, supportive, and knew how to call me out when I tried to avoid dealing with difficult issues.

My sessions with her are over now, but therapy helped me realise I still deserve help, even when things get dark again.

3. 鈥淚t completely changed my partner, and I handle conflict鈥� 鈥� Chidera, 48, F

I started couples therapy with my partner a few months ago, and it opened my eyes to so many things about myself, our relationship, and the way we communicate.

Our therapist also encouraged us to attend individual therapy because you can’t really build a healthy relationship if you’re avoiding your personal issues.

One of the biggest things therapy taught us was how to regulate our emotions together rather than constantly reacting to each other. It completely changed the way we handle conflict.

4. 鈥淚 finally experienced what emotional safety feels like鈥� 鈥� Itohan, 23, F

My father was abusive, and throughout most of my life, I learned to suppress my feelings. I genuinely had no idea what emotional intimacy was supposed to feel like.

After my family moved to the US, I decided to try therapy. During one session, my therapist hugged me, and that moment changed something in me. I’d experienced hugs before, but never one that felt genuinely safe. It felt like therapy unlocked a part of me I didn’t even know existed.

5. 鈥淭he first person I came out to was my therapist鈥� 鈥� Charles*, 24, M

Therapy helped me admit to myself that I’m gay after years of repressing it and pretending that part of me didn’t exist.

The first person I came out to was my therapist. Since then, I’ve opened up to some friends and family members, too. I genuinely don’t think I would’ve been able to accept myself without therapy.

6. 鈥淭herapy helped me stop hurting myself鈥� 鈥� Efe*, 45, F

I never really thought therapy was for me until I moved to the UK and became more open to the idea.

I was coming out of an abusive relationship, and even after leaving, I kept blaming myself for everything that happened. Therapy helped me see how much shame, fear, and emotional baggage I was carrying.

I eventually stopped hurting myself emotionally and physically. It took more than six years to find the right therapist, but once I did, my life truly started getting better.

7. 鈥淢y inner child is finally healing鈥� 鈥� Chukwudalu, 22, M

I struggled with mental health issues for years and mostly relied on YouTube videos, music, and motivational messages because I didn’t believe in therapy.

A friend eventually recommended an online therapy platform, and those sessions changed my life. I haven’t had nightmares or panic attacks in months, and I finally feel more in tune with myself.

Honestly, it feels like my inner child is healing.

8. 鈥淭herapy helped me rebuild my life鈥� 鈥� Jacob*, 33, M

Therapy helped me heal from grief and my divorce in ways I honestly didn’t think were possible.

Losing my parents changed me deeply, and for a long time, I felt stuck in pain I didn’t know how to process. Therapy gave me the tools to work through that grief without losing myself in it.

For the first time in years, I felt capable of rebuilding my life.

9. 鈥淟earning how to protect my peace changed everything鈥� 鈥� Taye*, 35, M

I’ve been with my therapist for over eight years, and she has completely changed the way I deal with the dysfunctional dynamics in my family.

She helped me understand how unhealthy my relationship with my mum was and taught me how to protect myself emotionally.

Therapy taught me boundaries. It taught me emotional distance. Most importantly, it taught me that I don’t have to respond every single time someone hurts me.

Learning how to protect my peace has been one of the greatest gifts therapy has given me.

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Benjamin Franklin was famously convinced that borrowing and sorrow go hand in hand. But if the United States鈥� founding father were alive in Nigeria today, Bola Tinubu would probably tell him he has it all wrong.

Tinubu and borrowing鈥攁 romance better than Twilight. At the national level, he has built a government that runs completely on credit. In three short years, Tinubu has borrowed . That is a massive mountain of debt that future generations will somehow have to pay back.

But the president does not just want the government to borrow. He wants regular Nigerians to get perfectly comfortable with living on credit, too. Nowhere is this vibe more obvious than with the .

Is NELFUND a genuine lifeline keeping poor students in school, or is it a ticking time bomb designed to trap a new generation of Nigerian youth in debt?

What is NELFUND?

Tinubu signed the Student Loan Act, which created NELFUND . The plan sounds simple: The government gives zero-interest loans to students in tertiary institutions to cover their fees. Students who apply for upkeep allowance may also get a monthly stipend. The fund claims that it has as of April 2026.

The government says this initiative will remove financial barriers and give poor Nigerian youth equal access to higher education. It鈥檚 ironic because it鈥檚 this same administration that made higher education unaffordable in the first place.

He that taketh away

First, Nigerians have become significantly poorer under Tinubu. The country went . That is almost 20 million freshly minted poor people thanks to Tinubunomics. Naturally, a poorer population will struggle to pay for school.

But while the president was making Nigerians poorer, he also pulled the safety net from under them.

Less than a month after Tinubu signed the Student Loan Act, . For example, the University of Lagos , depending on the course. Fees jumped from 鈧�19,000 to over 鈧�100,000 for non-STEM courses and over 鈧�190,000 for medicine.

Under the hood, the government had quietly cut its funding to these institutions. This left them to fend for themselves by charging students higher fees. They took away subsidised education and replaced it with an invitation to borrow.

In September 2024, the government that it was funneling 30% of the Tertiary Education Trust Fund (TETFund) into the student loan scheme. TETFund is mainly funded by a special tax collected from corporate entities operating in Nigeria to fund education.

This means the government took money that it was always supposed to spend on public education infrastructure and turned it into a personal loan for students. The NELFUND scheme is essentially the Nigerian government robbing its youth and giving them back their own money as a loan.

Look out, it鈥檚 a trap!

If you ignore the fact that the government defunded education to force you into it, a zero-interest loan might look great on paper. But the gloss quickly wears off once you read the fine print on the official NELFUND website.

The state: 鈥淭he Loan amount shall become fully and immediately due and payable 2 years post NYSC.鈥�

Here is the kicker. As long as you owe NELFUND, you are legally barred from taking any other loans. Nigeria has a job-scarce economy that forces many young graduates into entrepreneurship. Imagine not being able to take a business loan for your startup because you are still tied down by NELFUND.

Owo mi da!

In Tinubu鈥檚 Nigeria, studying medicine at a federal university like UNILAG will cost you over 鈧�1 million in mandatory fees. If you add from NELFUND, you will graduate with over 鈧�2.2 million in debt.

How would that work in a country with a 鈧�70,000 monthly minimum wage?

You would have to save every single kobo of that minimum wage for almost three years just to pay the government back. Until you do, you cannot access a business loan or a mortgage.

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A very bad example

We do not need to guess how this story ends. We can just look at the United States, where the president claims to have gotten his accounting degree.

The US government aggressively after the 2008 financial crisis. That move led to an explosion of student loans over the next decade. Today, about in student debt.

It is a massive disaster. The National Consumer Law Centre, a US non-profit, that paying back these loans is keeping low-income individuals trapped in poverty, with some even facing homelessness.

The US is now looking for a way out of the crisis it created for its citizens. The Biden administration even .

The point is that we already know exactly where mass student debt leads. So, why is Tinubu so determined to recreate that same American nightmare here in Nigeria?

The birth of a debt-trapped generation

This is where the major tragedy of the Tinubu presidency becomes clear. The administration is taking its own worst habit, which is an absolute addiction to debt, and forcing it on individual citizens.

For decades, higher education was the one reliable equaliser for poor Nigerian families. It was the only clear path to moving up the financial ladder. A university degree was the single asset you could acquire without starting your adult life in the negative.

By shifting the financial burden of public universities onto the backs of teenagers and young adults, Tinubu is ensuring that the next generation of Nigerian professionals will enter the economy already financially handicapped.

The government has successfully turned tertiary education into a massive financial risk that poor Nigerians simply cannot afford to take.

In just three years in office, Tinubu鈥檚 legacy in education is defunding institutions and a debt trap disguised as assistance.

We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us 鈥攚e鈥檇 love to hear from you!

We don鈥檛 always recognise ripple effects, and oftentimes never know who is touched by them. For Elizabeth Afadzwana Ivase, that moment came at just nine years old, at a political rally where she heard figures like Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti speak on independence and the role of women. It would go on to define the trajectory of her life and ignite her lifelong passion for equality and public service.

Elizabeth Ivase hails from Gboko, Benue State. At 18 years old while a student at Sacred Heart Teachers’ College in Kaduna, she testified before the Willink Commission, a body appointed by the colonial government to investigate the concerns of minority groups and recommend safeguards. Chaired by British lawyer Sir Henry Willink, the commission intended to address the anxieties of ethnic minorities ahead of Nigeria’s 1960 independence. 

Ivase’s testimony in Kaduna boldly advocated for Northern women鈥檚 civic rights, including the vote, which they lacked due to regional customs. In doing so, she challenged Northern leaders such as the NPC鈥檚 legal adviser, Abdul Ganiyu Abdul Razaq, despite discouragement from peers like Ladi Kwali. Her intervention contributed to the broader momentum that would secure women鈥檚 franchise nationwide by the 1979 elections.

An astute educator,  Elizabeth鈥檚 career began in 1957, the year she testified before Willink, as a teacher. She rose and became the first Tiv woman appointed Chief Education Officer. She made significant contributions on the Board of Governors for Women Teachers College in Kabba, where she served from 1959 to 1961, and the Tiv Local Education Authority, where she championed the establishment of day secondary schools to expand access to education in rural Benue, particularly for girls. 

Her dedication earned her a Bachelor of Education and Master of Education, which further solidified her as a leading proponent of education for the girl child during Nigeria’s second republic. She supported institutions like Katsina Ala College of Education and facilitated policies to reduce barriers for female students in the North.

Before joining politics at the federal level, she served as a Gboko Town Council member in 1971 and was involved in the Benue-Plateau State administration as the first female member of the Benue Plateau Scholarship Board and the first and only female member of the Benue-Plateau Leaders of Thought group from 1973 to 1974.  She eventually rose from grassroots activism, formally entering politics during the Second Republic when she was appointed by Benue State Governor Aper Aku as the first woman in the state’s Executive Council in 1979. 

She went on to serve as Commissioner for Special Duties between 1979 and 1982.  In this role, she initiated infrastructure projects like the Taraku Soya Mill and the Ahungwa Earth Dam, which boosted local agriculture and economy. 

She also broke national barriers in February 1982 when President Shehu Shagari named her Federal Minister of State for Education, a role she held until 1983 and a historic first for any woman from Northern Nigeria. In this position, she focused on educational reforms and women鈥檚 inclusion.

Following the 1983 military coup that ended civilian rule, Elizabeth transitioned from core politics to community and civil society leadership. She served as chair of the Benue Women’s Commission for two years in 1991, a role that enabled her to further empower women economically and socially. 

Afterwards, she served as chair of the Nigerian Association of Women Entrepreneurs Board of Trustees. She also led the Mzough U Kase Tiv Wives Association worldwide, promoting cultural preservation and support for Tiv women and culture. 

Elizabeth鈥檚 legacy lives on as the first woman in Northern Nigeria to serve in several political roles and the first woman from the region to be appointed a federal minister.