When people talk about japa, they often imagine someone escaping hardship, low pay, unemployment, and frustration. But sometimes, the story is different. Sometimes, the person leaving has everything people dream of: a good salary, comfort, and stability. And still, they pack their bags and leave.
I recently met a Nigerian lady in an office. We had both applied for a care job in the UK and were there for an interview. We got talking later, and I asked what she used to do in Nigeria. I realized that, like many newcomers, she was preparing to begin a career very different from the one she left behind.
Julie told me she worked for an oil company in Port Harcourt. Then she casually mentioned her salary. About ₦2 million every month. On top of that, she had side hustles bringing in between ₦500,000 and ₦1 million monthly.
And yet, she left it. Not for another oil job or for a corporate upgrade. The care role she was applying for in the UK would pay roughly £2,200 per month before tax, which is around ₦4.2 million at today’s exchange rate. Once taxes, rent, bills, and living costs are deducted, she would probably have less disposable income than she enjoyed back home. So why leave this behind and move to a country where you are starting from the bottom, doing shift work that most locals do not want?
“My decision wasn’t based on money alone. I chose long‑term stability. People think money solves everything, but in Nigeria, money only solves the problems the government refuses to solve. You can be earning millions and still be living in fear. The UK offers functioning systems. You pay taxes, and in return you get reliable electricity, clean water, and the basics for everyday living. In Nigeria, you pay taxes but don’t see where they go. You still end up paying for private alternatives. For electricity, you buy generators or install inverters. For water, you dig your own boreholes. For security, you have to hire private guards who cannot even save you if push comes to shove. I wanted a life where the system works for me, not against me,” she said.
Her point wasn’t that life in the UK is perfect. It was that many basic amenities Nigerians budget for separately are provided by the government in saner climes.
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Her decision to leave was also influenced by the constant kidnappings. Living in Port Harcourt and working in an oil company meant constantly looking over her shoulder. She had a second-hand experience when someone close to her was kidnapped.
“A friend of mine was kidnapped on her way back from work. We had to rally round to raise ransom money. Thankfully, she got out alive. I couldn’t stop thinking, ‘What if it were me?’ I had money, but I couldn’t really enjoy it. I couldn’t enjoy my life. There was another incident where some boys came asking questions about my neighbour while he was at work. He got wind of it and did not return home that day. His company had to move him to a different location, and he never returned to that compound. It was his friends who came to move his things out. Will I keep living in fear for the rest of my life? I can’t trade the peace of mind I have here. I’m not saying life here is perfect. Every country has problems. But there’s a difference between living somewhere you spend every day imagining the worst and living somewhere the system allows you to focus on your life. Here, I can breathe. I can walk freely. I can sleep without fear. I can plan my life without worrying that insecurity will scatter everything. Peace of mind is priceless,” she said.
It is a sentiment shared by many Nigerians who relocate abroad. While no country is completely free of crime, many migrants say one of the things they value is the ability to walk on the streets and return home at night without constantly anticipating the worst.
She also spoke about what happens when things go wrong and how, in Nigeria, there is often no safety net beneath you.
“Earning ₦3 million monthly in Nigeria looks like big money until you face serious issues. One illness can wipe out your savings. One job loss can destabilize your entire life. One insecurity incident can change everything. There is no government welfare system to support you, no soft cushion. If you are involved in a serious accident, your chances of survival are next to none. I do not want to raise a family in a country that does not value human life. I also do not see a future where my children will have the opportunities to thrive,” she said.
Like many other Nigerians who have relocated, she misses home, but does not regret her decision to relocate.
“Nigeria is home. I still have family and friends there. I miss them, the food, and the owambes. But I don’t miss the constant fear, the instability, and the national grid collapsing,” she added.
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