When people talk about Japa, they often focus on visas, job offers, exchange rates and cost of living. What rarely gets equal attention are the deeply personal journeys behind relocation — the setbacks, sacrifices and rebuilding that happen quietly in immigrant homes.

Tomi Waziri’s story is one of those realities.

Before Canada, before content creation, before rebuilding — there was trauma. At 27, while driving Uber in Nigeria, he survived a violent attack that left him permanently blind. In an instant, his independence disappeared. Hospital bills drained his finances. Depression followed. At one point, he had just ₦50,000 — about $40 — left in his account.

Two months after the incident, the woman who was then his girlfriend told him they should get married.
He was shocked. She was resolute. Her words were simple: “We will grow together.”

They held a modest sitting-room wedding with only close family — no elaborate hall, no grand reception. One year after he lost his sight, they were married. Today, five years later, he still talks about giving her the big wedding celebration she once deserved. She, he says, doesn’t even think about it. For him, it remains a promise.

Migration came later. Like many families in the Japa era, they moved in search of stability and opportunity. But relocation did not erase reality.
In Canada, Tomi is still rehabilitating — learning adaptive technology, relearning independence, and navigating the slow processes that new immigrants often face. He is not unemployed by choice. He is rebuilding capacity in a new country while adjusting to life without sight.

His wife is the primary breadwinner.
She works full-time, sometimes night shifts, and carries the financial weight of the household. Yet Tomi refuses to see himself as idle. He prepares the children for school, handles household responsibilities, and contributes where he can. Together, they create family-focused content on YouTube and Facebook as an additional income stream.

For many immigrants, especially those in single-income households, this dynamic is familiar. Canada offers structure and opportunity, but it also demands resilience. Housing costs, childcare, transportation and taxes can quickly stretch one salary. When health challenges are added to the equation, the pressure multiplies.

Still, their story is not framed around complaint. It is framed around partnership.

He openly acknowledges the emotional and physical toll on his wife — coming home from night shifts to chores, groceries and content creation. He publicly thanks her for her sacrifices. In an era where migration narratives often center on individual hustle, this one centers on shared endurance.

There is also a broader lesson here about disability and migration. Immigrating as a person with a newly acquired disability presents unique barriers — employment access, credential transfer, assistive technology costs and integration support. Yet it also highlights the power of adaptive systems and community support structures available in countries like Canada.

Tomi often reminds people that life is a journey. They are not where they used to be. They may not yet be where they want to be. But they are moving forward.

In the #Japa conversation, success is frequently measured by property purchases, luxury photos or currency conversion. Stories like this expand that definition. Sometimes success is survival. Sometimes it is partnership. Sometimes it is relearning how to use a smartphone without sight and still finding the courage to create content that inspires others.

Five years into marriage, rebuilding in a new country, raising children, managing disability and financial pressure — this is what a real Japa story looks like behind the scenes.

Not just relocation.

Reconstruction.