Relocation, popularly known as “Japa,” is often portrayed on social media as a fast track to success — smiling selfies abroad, branded coffee cups, snowy backdrops, and captions that suggest instant stability. But for many Nigerians living overseas, the reality is far more complex.

In a widely shared post on X, Tolulope Michael offered a candid account of what life abroad often looks like behind curated photos. According to him, many Nigerians overseas are quietly struggling, even as they project success online.

He described friends in Canada working multiple jobs, breaking down emotionally in private, only to return online the next day with cheerful posts. The pressure, he said, comes from all sides — families back home expecting financial support, personal fear of failure after sacrificing everything to relocate, and societal expectations that equate migration with instant wealth.

Life abroad, he explained, often involves waking up before dawn for physically demanding work, living frugally because of high living costs, and dealing with deep loneliness in unfamiliar environments where accents, culture, and identity create invisible barriers. Many immigrants, he noted, survive not because they are exceptionally talented, but because they are adaptable — willing to start again, accept discomfort, and rebuild from the ground up.

Michael stressed that relocation is not inherently bad, but warned against confusing movement with ease. “You are trading one type of hard for another,” he noted, adding that mental, emotional, and financial preparation matters more than social media inspiration.

The Weight of Expectations From Home

That sentiment was echoed by JP Attueyi, who shared a personal experience from his early years in the United States. According to him, the longer Nigerians stay abroad, the heavier the expectations from those back home.

During a visit to Nigeria, Attueyi recalled being asked by a cousin for $100,000 to “improve his business.” When he explained that he did not have such funds, the cousin reacted with disbelief, convinced that years spent in the US automatically translated into extreme wealth.

The interaction revealed a common misconception — that earning dollars is equivalent to instant prosperity. Attueyi said it became clear that many people back home viewed foreign currencies as interchangeable with the naira, without accounting for taxes, rent, healthcare, and the cost of living abroad.

That misunderstanding, he argued, fuels unrealistic demands and emotional strain on Nigerians in the diaspora, many of whom are still finding their footing. “The average Nigerian abroad wishes to come back home,” he said, “they just don’t know how.”

A Broader Conversation on Migration

Together, the reflections have sparked renewed conversation around the emotional toll of migration, the illusion of success created by social media, and the urgent need for economic and structural reforms at home.

Both contributors emphasised that the goal is not to discourage relocation, but to promote honesty. Migration, they argued, should be viewed as a reset rather than an escape — one that requires resilience and humility.

They also pointed to a deeper national concern: the necessity of building a country people do not feel compelled to flee. Until Nigeria becomes a place where opportunity, dignity, and stability are accessible, many will continue to leave — even when the cost is invisible but heavy.

As the conversation around #Japa continues, these personal accounts serve as a reminder that behind many success stories are sacrifices rarely captured in photos — and that relocation, while sometimes necessary, is never as simple as it appears.