On Wednesday, June 24, 2026, the First Lady, Oluremi Tinubu, spoke at the Renewed Hope Initiative’s second-quarter meeting with the wives of state governors. There, she talked about giving out grants to help people start petty trading businesses, like roadside corn-roasting.

Call us traumatised, but we’re not shocked by the First Lady’s advice. These kinds of out-of-touch suggestions for deep systemic problems are completely on brand for her.

Let’s look at her rap sheet…

Remi the farmer

In July 2024, she suggested that Nigerian women start home gardens to address the country’s food insecurity crisis. Showing off her own home garden where she planted spinach, waterleaf, bitter leaf, ewedu, lemongrass, scent leaf, and okra, she said: “This little garden will be able to provide healthy vegetables enough for my household, and I would definitely be able to let some of my staff have as well. The solution to any problem lies in everyone contributing their own quota to getting that solution.”

We are not saying the First Lady is lying, but the 2026 budget for foodstuff and catering at Aso Rock is over ₦375 million. Her “household” is definitely not surviving on okra from her backyard. Yet, millions of poor Nigerian families are somehow expected to garden their way out of hunger caused by multidimensional poverty.

Remi the fashion killa

Nigeria has always struggled with tribalism. This was worsened by divisive politics like the “Yoruba Ronu” movement during the 2023 elections, a campaign in which the APC played a central role.

Remi Tinubu’s solution? Asoebi!

In 2024, the First Lady launched the “One Nigeria Unity Fabric” to “support local textile industries, create jobs, and celebrate Nigeria’s strength as one united nation.” Because matching outfits automatically solves deep-rooted ethnic tension, obviously.

Go, Remi, It’s Your Birthday!

Then, in September 2025, Remi Tinubu asked Nigerians to send her money for her birthday to help complete the National Library project in Abuja.

The project has been under construction since the government of Shehu Shagari in 1983, but remains uncompleted due to poor budgeting and a lack of political will. From her bag of tricks, Remi Tinubu pulled out another classic solution: birthday crowdfunding for a massive federal government infrastructure project.

Nigerians already crowdfund ransom payments to rescue people from terrorists, so why not for a national library, right?

Perhaps, for the ladies, a car?

Just three weeks before her Akara advice, Remi Tinubu gave cars to APC women leaders in states with opposition governors.

So, cars for politicians and their lackeys. But akara and kuli kuli business for the rest of us? 

Banger after banger

Many Nigerians are incredibly vexed by Remi Tinubu’s akara-selling idea. The anger is completely understandable, but honestly, nobody should be surprised at this point.

Grants for roasted corn and kuli-kuli are just the latest production from the brilliant mind that brought you:

• Gardening to solve food insecurity.
• Asoebi to solve tribalism.
• Crowdfunding government projects.

Nigerians are God’s strongest soldiers, and Remi Tinubu is proof.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

The following is a collection of stories from queer Abroad Life subjects about leaving Nigeria for countries where they can live their truth unapologetically.

“I spent 20 playing the good boy just to escape Nigeria” — James*, 25, M

Growing up feminine in Nigeria meant constant bullying. I played the “good boy” role for two decades just so my dad would fund my education abroad. But right before I left for the UK in 2022, my world shattered. I was “kitoed” by homophobes who beat and blackmailed me, and the very next night, an acquaintance sexually assaulted me while I was frozen in trauma. My spirit was broken, but I forced myself onto that flight because staying meant death.

I am in Canada now, physically safe and thriving professionally. I’m currently looking for a therapist to help me unpack it all and learn how to actually live.

*James’ story was originally published on March 20, 2026. Read the full story here. 

“I can finally come out to my homophobic parents” — Tope*, 33, F

I had a comfortable life in Nigeria, earning ₦35 million working in oil and gas. But I also knew I couldn’t navigate Nigeria’s toxic, secretive dating scene forever—having to be with women who were also with men as “cover.” I moved to the US in 2022 and completely started over.

Today, I am married to an incredible woman whose family has welcomed me with open arms. My super-religious parents are very homophobic and ask me about a husband whenever I call. It is heartbreaking, but the absolute safety of my marriage has given me the strength to finally come out to them next year. I am done hiding.

*Tope’s story was originally published on November 21, 2025. Read the full story here.

“I was bullied for being effeminate in Nigeria, but my partner’s family adopted me as their own” — Peter*, 28, M

In Nigeria, I was constantly bullied and called female names because of my appearance and sexuality. I finally escaped to the UK in 2023, but my first year here was pure survival mode, working brutal hours at multiple jobs.

Everything shifted when I met my partner on a dating app. Moving abroad with zero family is a quick route to depression, but his family completely adopted me as their own. For the first time, I have a safe space to cry, vent, and completely heal.

*Peter’s story was originally published on March 20, 2026. Read the full story here.

“Hollywood completely lied to me about how free queer people are in America” — Gabriel*, 31, M

I bolted to the US in 2021 for graduate school, desperate to live openly away from my homophobic family. But the glorious, rainbow-coloured freedom we always saw in Hollywood movies turned out to be a massive lie. Landing in a conservative “Red State”, I was hit with a harsh mix of homophobia and racism.

Even worse, the American queer community turned out to be incredibly toxic and vain. Because I am an effeminate immigrant, I am either treated with open disdain or heavily fetishised on dating apps by people who treat my nationality like an item on their checklist. Life here has been painfully lonely, but I’m still looking for a loving, monogamous relationship.

*Gabriel’s story was originally published on March 20, 2026. Read the full story here.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

“I fled Nigeria to save my life, and my queer activism became my ticket to asylum” — Saratu*, 25, F

Living in Kaduna as a masculine-presenting queer woman meant being trapped in constant fear. I had to hide from my family and society, and I saw friends get killed or go missing. In 2024, I managed to get to the UK on a student visa and then applied for asylum.

Thanks to the evidence of my underground activism in Nigeria, my refugee status was granted. Life feels so much lighter now. The absolute best thing about the UK is the complete freedom. I can walk down the street looking as masculine as I want, and nobody stares or judges me because everyone is too busy chasing their own goals.

*Saratu’s story was originally published on March 20, 2026. Read the full story here.

“I married a gay man just to escape my deeply religious family” — Fathia*, 31, F

Where I’m from in northern Nigeria, you aren’t allowed to move out of your parents’ house until you get married. For over 20 years, my life was an exhausting acting gig because I was agnostic and queer, living with an extremely religious Muslim family. When the pressure to marry became unbearable, I entered a lavender marriage with a gay Nigerian man living in Canada.

We agreed to get married to satisfy our families while living completely separate lives. Our parents happily swallowed the bait, and I landed in Canada in 2023. Settling in brought deep isolation and a rough job market, but I’ve made great friends, and I’m dating someone now. I finally get to experience the independent adulthood that most northern Nigerian girls are completely denied.

*Fathia’s story was originally published on March 20, 2026. Read the full story here.

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).

When it comes to money, Nigerians have basically spent the first three years of the Tinubu presidency being God’s strongest soldiers. It genuinely feels like this administration’s monetary policies were engineered in a lab specifically to test our breaking points.

What’s really wild is that President Bola Tinubu knows all of this. So, over the years, he has given some pretty bleak pep talks. Remember when he admitted he knew his policies were causing incredible hardship, only to drop a casual ? Or when he told us to brace ourselves for ?

To say Nigerians are going through a lot is a massive understatement. Here are the top monetary policies of this administration and how they’ve affected Nigerians’ pockets. Stick around until the end for a tip on how to survive the roughest waters of Tinubunomics.

1. Fuel Subsidy Removal (May 2023)

This may have been necessary to stop an unsustainable multi-billion-naira fiscal leak, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t instantly cause. The resulting inflation completely wrecked the basic financial formulas that everyday citizens used to save or invest. Oh, and we are the government promised those saved funds would provide.

2. Floating the Naira (June 2023)

The Central Bank to stop people and . But it also triggered a historic devaluation cycle where anyone earning and saving in naira watched their global purchasing power , turning wealth preservation into a losing battle for millions of Nigerians.

3. The Crypto Criminalisation Campaign (2021–2024)

The federal government launched a against global exchanges and peer-to-peer (P2P) networks, . This trapped millions in capital and triggered , transforming a basic economic liferaft into a high-stakes gamble where your life savings could get seized overnight. And remember how ? Crazy times.

4. The Electricity Tariff Hike (April 2024)

The Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC) for premium consumers to attract private investment and guarantee a minimum of 20 hours of daily power. This multiplied the energy costs of individuals and businesses, turning a basic utility into a luxury expense that drains monthly cash flows. To rub salt in the wound, .

5. The ₦70,000 National Minimum Wage Floor (July 2024)

This was after with the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) to shield the lowest-earning workers from cost-of-living shocks. An over 200% baseline wage hike sounds massive, but in 2026, ₦70,000 cannot even fill the tank of a mid-sized sedan.

However, businesses still had to absorb a sudden spike in their wage bills by hiking prices, which only worsened inflation. It looks like Nigerians are earning more, but we are also due to the cost-of-living crisis.

6. The Crypto Ban Reversal (2025–2026)

One thing about this administration: there is always a plot twist. The government completely switched up its attitude towards crypto, moving from outright criminalisation to regulation and, most importantly, taxation. The officially recognised digital assets and brought them under state oversight. Also, a new tax framework tracks digital trading gains so the government can get a cut. You can build your crypto wealth, but the government wants its share.

7. The Tax Reform Acts (January 2026)

The administration unified Nigeria’s dozens of scattered tax laws into four acts to simplify revenue collection and expand the tax base. It introduced progressive taxation, meaning high earners give bigger cuts of their income, and it widened the tax net to include the informal sector, the freelance gig economy, and digital assets. However you make money in Nigeria, the government wants a piece of it.

8.

This administration has a spending problem. The national budget has exploded year-on-year, constantly getting more outrageous. , hence the constant borrowing and heavier taxation. The catch is that it relies heavily on massive domestic and external borrowing, which while fuelling a vicious cycle of structural inflation.

Basically, banks see the government as a safe bet when giving out loans. When they’ve loaned out all their money to the government, . The state is overspending, and all Nigerians are paying for it one way or another.

9.

Under this administration, the Central Bank as a desperate tactic to . But with lending rates so high, taking out a business loan feels more like entering a trap. If you are not a gambler or incredibly confident in your business idea, you are probably going to have to fund your growth entirely out of pocket.

10. The CREDICORP Consumer Credit Pivot (2024–2026)

The Nigerian Consumer Credit Corporation is meant to dismantle the ‘cash-and-carry’ economy by . The opportunity to buy critical infrastructure without draining your capital upfront might be attractive, but it also introduces a debt-management culture that can permanently trap your future income if you lack discipline.

The silver lining playbook

When macroeconomic policies shift this fast, the traditional personal finance rules our parents taught us become completely useless. You cannot simply ‘save 10% of your income’ and hope for the best.

Survival in today’s Nigeria requires moving past basic survival mode and learning the actual mechanics of a volatile economy. If you are trying to figure out how to navigate these exact policy landmines—how to protect your income from inflation, pivot your career, scale a business without deadly bank debt, and actually build assets that last—you need to be in the right room.

That is exactly what we are breaking down at the żěèĘÓƵ Naira Life Conference on August 22, 2026, in Lagos. This year’s theme is entirely focused on the modern Nigerian wealth lifecycle: Building it, growing it, keeping it, and passing it on. No corporate jargon, just real, unfiltered strategies from people who are successfully doing it despite the headlines.

Get your ticket at

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

When Peter (24) left for South Africa to study music production, everyone warned him to “be safe” due to xenophobic attacks. In this story, he talks about his time and experiences in Johannesburg and how South Africans have turned out to be far more welcoming than he ever expected.

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

I live in Johannesburg, South Africa, and I left Nigeria in early 2025.

What made you move?

I left for creative school. By my second year of studying electrical engineering at university, I had mentally checked out and only saw it through because my parents were paying for it. What I really wanted to do was music production and sound engineering, so I told my parents I wouldn’t be doing a 9-5 job once I graduated.

After school, I interned with a major music producer in Nigeria for a while. When I left that, I ventured into working with media, learning about sound for media at EbonyLife Creative Academy. It was around that time that my mum suggested I pursue a formal education and actually become certified.

The initial plan was to go to the United States, but the school fees were too expensive. So I looked at other options and found an opportunity in South Africa. I applied and got admitted to study Sound Production at the here.

Why didn’t you study in Nigeria?

I didn’t see any options for exactly what I wanted in Nigeria. Most of the options I saw there were theoretical music training. But training for music and training for sound production are two different things.

Unlike the music schools in Nigeria, we don’t have traditional exams where you sit down with pen and paper. Our assignments make up our grade. For example, they can give you a set of multi-tracks and tell you to mix them for your test. It is more hands-on than just learning theory. It’s rare to see that in Nigeria.

Let’s talk about South Africa. What was it like when you first arrived?

It was so cold. You see snow on TV and think it looks nice. Trust me, it doesn’t feel nice. I arrived in the autumn, just before winter, but I was already shaking. The actual winter came around May, and that was when I really knew what cold was.

I was also anxious about experiencing Xenophobia because of the things I had heard, so when I got here, I decided not to move around too much. But when I did, I didn’t see any visible hatred.

Because people here can easily tell you’re Nigerian from your accent, so once they hear that, they ask where I’m from, and I tell them Nigeria. What follows is them asking me things like, “Oh, do you know Davido?”

There was no visible hatred. What I’ve learned is that xenophobia exists here, but only in certain parts of the country, mostly in the townships, which are more rural. You don’t see it in the cities. And even in the places where it’s more common, if you have South African friends around you, you’ll be fine.

Are you saying the xenophobic sentiment is not as bad as people might think?

I feel like the media has made it look bigger than it is.  immigration is an actual issue in South Africa, but it has been hijacked by xenophobic people to attack everyone. And the xenophobic ones are a small minority.

But the media picks it up and presents only one perspective, and that’s dangerous. When the news of xenophobia breaks, it makes people react blindly. I remember when I was in Nigeria, and news of xenophobic attacks literally made people raid a Shoprite near where I lived.

So you’ve never been worried about being attacked in South Africa?

I haven’t had any reason to be afraid of attacks. My school is far away from the townships where it usually happens. And the South Africans I have met have been friendly when they learned I was from Nigeria. There are traits that a Nigerian has that we take for granted but are fascinating to them. For example, how entrepreneurial we are.

But others don’t find it as fascinating. Nigerians come here and maybe open a business, and in just a couple of years, they grow more than the South Africans who have been here for years. Some of them look at that and say, “Wow, these Nigerian men are so enterprising.” However, some take it negatively and say, “They should just go back to their country, what are they doing in my place?” So it is two-sided. But from my personal experience, I haven’t had to be afraid because of the xenophobic attacks.

That’s great. How about your ability to make friends and build connections; has that been affected in any way?

No, definitely not. No South African I’ve met has given me reason to think they are prejudiced. I simply haven’t experienced that.

What is your support system like in South Africa?

My community is made up mainly of people I met at school or church. At school, our assignments are usually group-based practical projects. So after class, we work together on these projects, and in doing that, we learn about each other and form bonds.

The majority of my friends here are South African, and a few are Nigerian. At church, my pastor is Nigerian, but the majority of the congregation is mostly South African.

Were there any culture shocks you experienced?

The calmness. Coming from Lagos, it’s very shocking how calm and chill it is here in Johannesburg.

Another shock is that hip-hop is still a big deal here. Back home, it is mostly Afrobeats. But here, hip-hop is a massive thing among young people. Amapiano is big too, but hip-hop seems to be bigger.

Also, marriage is not seen as a big deal here, the way it is in Nigeria. Back home, parents are constantly asking when you are going to get married because they want grandchildren. The parents here don’t do that; after all, they, too, are probably not married, they just cohabit. Marriage is not seen as a sacred cultural necessity.

Another thing that shocked me here was the language barrier. They speak English, but their traditional languages are quite important to them. In Nigeria, nobody might bat an eye if you can’t speak your mother tongue, but here, that is almost like a taboo.

 Those are the three major things that shocked me when I got here. The fact that they were more welcoming than I expected was the biggest shock of all.

Have you visited Nigeria since you got to South Africa?

Yes, I usually come back in December. There is a July break for about a month, but because of flight prices, it makes more sense to come home in December. My school session doesn’t start until March, so if I am back home by late November or December, I get to stay through December, January, and February. That is three months as opposed to just one month in July.

Do you intend to return to Nigeria or build a career in South Africa?

The plan has always been to go back; it still is. Not because I don’t want to be here, but because I have many things I need to do at home. But I am trying to build relationships and contacts here.

What matters in my industry is the clients, not your physical location. Meeting artists here and building that relationship means that when they need work done, they will call me, no matter where I am.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

What would you say has been your worst experience in South Africa?

Easily, my first week here. As part of the visa process, you have to book your accommodation before coming here. I wanted a place close to school, but the area has very high rents. So I picked the cheapest accommodation I found. You don’t pay the actual rent until you arrive, but I paid the documentation and booking fee to hold the space. That was about 200 Rand.

When I arrived, a cab driver took me from the airport to the place. When we got there, he told me, “This does not seem like a good place.” He insisted it wasn’t safe and suggested we confirm first. He told me to leave my things in the car while we went in to check.

We went inside and found a lot of drug dealers smoking heavily, homeless people, and prostitutes. It was a terrible place. We got my key from the receptionist, and when we opened the room, we saw weed on my bed. That was the final straw. I video-called my parents and showed them. They asked me to leave immediately.

The driver took me to a hotel. He came back the next day, and we drove around the city, house hunting.

It took a couple of days, but we finally found a good place just a couple of minutes from school. I was only able to get it because the original renter had just cancelled their booking. It was more expensive than I had planned, but after that initial experience, I was just happy to have a good place.

That week was my worst experience here, but the driver was really helpful.

Was the driver South African?

Yes, he was South African.

What has been your best experience?

I can think of a couple. First, was a spicy food eating competition with some friends from school. One of us had this extremely hot sauce and started vomiting.

I know that sounds crazy as a best experience, but it was a really nice bonding moment for all of us. I am not a very expressive person when it comes to friendships, but that situation brought out an expressive side of me. It went from having fun to me becoming genuinely concerned and going into protective mode. It reminded me that these people are actually my friends whom I care about.

Some other really awesome experiences have been at school, having the opportunity to meet industry professionals. Our lecturers like to bring industry professionals to speak to us. Meeting Ndabo Zulu and being able to ask him questions about music really stuck out to me.

What is your favourite thing about South Africa?

It is really the people. They are much more welcoming than I thought. I had an expectation based on how things are portrayed.

A lot of them have actually researched Nigerian culture. I met a new acquaintance recently, and when she found out I was Nigerian, she started trying to speak Pidgin. She didn’t have our accent, but she was trying. They try to relate to you on your own terms. I’ve had South Africans ask me about the security situation back home, even the kidnapped children in Oyo. I wondered how they knew about that from all the way over here. It touched me in ways I didn’t expect.

What about your least favourite thing?

The weather. The winter season is tough. If I start shuttling between Nigeria and South Africa, I will always avoid the winter period from May to July. During that time, I’ll be in Nigeria. Then, from August till about March, is when I’ll prefer to be in South Africa.

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

I’ll say nine.

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).

On Friday, 12 June 2026, the Borno State government . The very next day, Saturday, 13 June, .

This sequence of events captures a strange paradox Nigerians have had to live with for several years now: watching the government pardon terrorists while communities continue to be ravaged by the violence they cause.

It raises some big questions: Is this plan to reform terrorists actually working? Can these killers ever truly change? Is it tone-deaf for the government to be hosting rehabilitation ceremonies for terrorists while the victims’ villages are still on fire?

Forgive and forget

This idea of forgiving and reforming terrorists isn’t new in Nigeria. Since 2016, the government has been running —a programme meant to get insurgents to lay down their weapons and rejoin society. And  from the start, many Nigerians have been strongly against it.

But the government’s logic is pretty simple: if you promise these fighters safety, training, and a fresh start, they might just surrender. Basically, it’s a victory without having to fire a single bullet.

are being used by several countries worldwide to tackle terrorism, with varying degrees of success.

Take Saudi Arabia, for instance. Facing from Al-Qaeda in the early 2000s, the Kingdom targeting extremists. combines psychological counselling with religious re-education by moderate clerics to completely dismantle their radical ideology. It is as one of the most successful deradicalisation programmes globally.

Somalia also has a deradicalisation programme for former members of the Al-Shabaab extremist group that has . The Defector Rehabilitation Programme (DRP) has had , including trying to identify defectors and mark them for vengeful attacks. 

But how has Nigeria’s attempt turned out so far?

Keeping your enemies close

Back in the 2010s, former Niger Delta militants oil bunkering facilities. They knew the area perfectly, so their insider secrets were a game-changer for the military. Today, something similar is happening in Northern Nigeria. Former terrorists , helping troops avoid hidden bombs, locating enemy camps, and identifying top terrorist commanders.

Sometimes this backfires spectacularly. In October 2024, Premium Times reported that a group of former terrorists who had been given rifles and motorcycles to help the military to return to terrorist activities.

Borno State Governor Babagana Zulum also that many former terrorists who passed through Operation Safe Corridor returned to terrorism after using their time in the programme to spy on security agencies and communities.

But even when former terrorists stay and are reintegrated into these communities, it is not the happy ending the government envisions. 

The new neighbours killed your family

Imagine surviving a literal nightmare, only for the government to tell you that the person who burnt your village or killed your relatives is now your next-door neighbour. Are you just supposed to smile and move on because the government said so?

Well, many people are understandably unable to accept former terrorists with open arms. It’s not just insensitive; it’s deeply traumatising for these communities. , Maiduguri resident Dogara Wim Bitrus captured the mood perfectly, noting that it is “almost impossible for society to accept them, because society will never see them the way the government wants them to be seen.”

Also, Borno’s governor, Zulum, said: “The host communities where the reintegration process is going on usually resent the presence of Boko Haram terrorists, even if they have been deradicalised, because of the despicable and atrocious activities they have committed in the past.”

You cannot blame host communities for refusing to welcome them, especially given how flimsy the government’s deradicalisation efforts are. Insurgents —no courts, no convictions, no justice. Instead, they undergo a lasting just a few weeks, before swearing on the Quran that they will never terrorise again.

It is ridiculous and a slap in the face of the people whose lives have been ruined by extremist violence. Whatever good intentions the government had with this programme are completely going down the drain because of terrible execution.

A rehabilitation plan must put the victims’ healing first. Anything else is just creating a powder keg that is bound to explode.

Who do you care about?

Nothing tells you what a government really cares about like a budget. And following the money shows us who the government appears to consider more important.

The Borno State government says its rehabilitation programme has absorbed around —i˛Ôł¦±ôłÜ»ĺľ±˛Ô˛µ and their families. At the same time, the state is home to who were run out of their homes by these same people.

The government’s , when examined, don’t seem to match up. In 2025, the Borno government spent ₦7 billion on rehabilitating terrorists. That was the state’s . It spent the same amount on the —the body responsible for feeding and housing the millions of victims of this violence.

The disparity shows up in very real ways on the ground. Repentant terrorists receive stipends from the government and have . Meanwhile, their victims, now living in the IDP camps, are meant for animal feed.

If the aim is to heal these communities, the government is failing woefully. Right now, the budget is painting a deeply wicked picture: it looks like it pays more to have been a terrorist than to have been their victim. That’s not how you foster reconciliation and peace. Instead of closing old wounds, this spending disparity creates new scars.

If you ask the average Nigerian where they would rather their tax money go, between victims of terrorism or the terrorists, the answer feels very obvious. But it seems the government thinks differently.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

Is it worth it?

The government loves to to make it look like they are winning the war on terror through this soft touch approach. They proudly announce that hundreds of thousands have surrendered, but if you look closer, the math appears strange.

Borno State claims to have accepted 350,000 people into its rehabilitation programme. But only nine thousand are fighters. The rest are their wives and children.

In December 2024, the Minister of Defence, Christopher Musa, reported that Safe Corridor had . But of that number, 62,000 were children, and 36,000 were women. The headline numbers only appear large because the government includes the families of the terrorists.

But let’s think about the facts for a second: ten years, billions of naira spent, and only a few thousand actual fighters have put down their weapons. When we consider the costs, both monetary and otherwise:

• Security: Terrorists using the programme to spy on security forces and communities, and get access to military equipment before escaping.
• For the communities: The deep trauma of being forced to live with the people who slaughtered their families and shattered their lives.
• For the victims: Starvation and neglect while their oppressors get double rations for having multiple wives.

A non-kinetic approach to ending violence has its benefits, but when we put them next to these costs, it raises a stark question: Is it worth it?

Rehabilitating the rehabilitation programmes

Whatever the answer is, one truth remains: the government is jumping the gun. You cannot be reintegrating terrorists while attacks are still a daily occurrence. It’s like trying to stitch up a wound while the knife is actively cutting through flesh. Maybe stop the cutting and stem the bleeding first.

Regardless of the academic pros and cons of rehabilitation, these celebratory ceremonies feel like a slap in the face while the horrors of terrorist violence are actively trending on our timelines. It is profoundly tone-deaf.

The government has its reasons for pursuing rehabilitation as an anti-terrorism tactic. But Nigerians also have valid reasons to feel aggrieved and suspicious. The situation has not been helped by the government’s mishandling of the programmes so far.

The government owes Nigerians proper processes, transparency on what deradicalisation actually entails, accountability, and responsible spending that does not appear to put perpetrators ahead of their victims. If the government can get their act together and do things properly for once, Nigerians might be able to better tolerate the rehabilitation policy.

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 —we’d love to hear from you!

Tolani* (24) is in Johannesburg on a fully-funded postgraduate scholarship. But while her academic dreams are thriving under a highly supportive education system, daily life is overshadowed by xenophobic violence. In this story, she talks about how she’s trying to make good memories in Johannesburg, and why she can’t settle in South Africa after her studies.

Where are you currently living, and when did you leave Nigeria?

I am currently living in Johannesburg, South Africa. I left Nigeria in 2026.

What made you move?

School. I came here for my postgraduate studies. I always knew I wanted to do my postgrad outside Nigeria, because I think the educational system at home is too limited.

Why South Africa?

I actually thought of the other locations, too. I was considering schools in the United Kingdom and even the United States until a certain orange man made me change my mind about that.

Then I began to consider opportunities in Asia—specifically China and South Korea—but at the time I was planning to apply to their schools, I received an offer from South Africa. It’s a full scholarship to the University of the Witwatersrand, one of Africa’s top universities. It’s a great opportunity, so I just dropped everything else.

What are your plans after school in South Africa? Do you plan to stay back?

No, I don’t plan to stay here. I actually haven’t thought deeply about what I’ll do after my studies because I still have one and a half years to go. Maybe I will apply for a fellowship, try the Global Talent visa route and move to the UK or somewhere else. But no, I don’t plan on staying here before these xenophobic people attack me.

You moved to South Africa at a very interesting time. The xenophobic unrest is starting up again. How do you feel about what is going on around you?

Yeah, it is a very interesting time to move. At the time I got the scholarship, things were calm. But then, a month before I moved, there were xenophobic attacks all over the news. It was really scary.

Thankfully, it’s quite calm around campus. But I have been seeing things and reading about people’s experiences, and it is really ugly. I’m trying to stay mostly indoors, except when I am going to school. I don’t have any business outside until the whole unrest calms down.

I’m sorry you have to live that way. What is your support system like? Have you made any friends?

I have not really made many friends. For support, I have a couple of family friends and some friends who moved here before me, so I reach out to them. I’m also making sure to join many communities.

Whenever anyone asks me to go anywhere, I almost always say yes. I’m really trying to enjoy my stay here. And I make sure I take enough pictures, because I want my gallery to be full of memories. Luckily, I’ve met some nice people who have volunteered to go out with me when I’m bored. I can just hit them up, and they are more than happy to accompany me. So yeah, it has been nice, and they have been helpful.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

Do you plan to visit Nigeria during your studies?

I would like to come visit, actually, but the travel costs are really high. We have winter break here from June to July. But I’d rather save the money and come home in December.

Makes sense. What is your daily routine like?

I wake up in the morning, do some home workouts, pray, and check my school emails to see if I have anything to do. I work on my assignments, watch movies, do some bulk cooking, eat, and sleep. Sometimes during the week, I also go to church. That’s basically it.

How are you finding the educational system? Is it what you expected?

Yeah, actually, it is that and more. They have a proper educational system and really good support for students. It is unlike where I am coming from, if you know what I mean. They think about the students, so a supervisor or lecturer can’t stress you unnecessarily. You have your own voice, you can dictate your pace, and they help you if you are not ready to do something at a particular moment.

You mentioned going out with some of the new people you are meeting. What kind of activities do you do for fun?

Well, it is not anything crazy. Sometimes it could just be a walk, or going to restaurants and events. We might just walk around school while they tell me random things about the country. I’m also avoiding going to certain places because of the whole xenophobia thing.

What would you say has been your best experience so far in South Africa?

It was on my first day here. I was stranded in school because I couldn’t find the way back to my apartment. So I walked up to someone and told her I was new and couldn’t find my way to where I was going. She just said, “Oh, follow me.” At that point, I had no choice but to follow her.

She led me some of the way, then gave me very accurate directions. I followed her directions and found myself right in front of my gate. It was really nice to be helped by a stranger like that. That first day was crazy, but that moment was memorable.

Do you have a favourite thing about South Africa?

No, because they are killing my people.

Right. And I think that probably answers what your least favourite thing about South Africa is too.

Yes. But one more thing is how cold it gets here. I’ve been drinking a lot of black tea to cope. But once you pour out a steaming cup, it gets cold within a minute.

On a scale of one to ten, how happy would you say you are in South Africa?

I’ll say an eight.

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 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’s 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’t wearing a military uniform but an agbada; it came from a civilian administration—the administration of Bola Tinubu.

This is how Nigeria’s democracy died in 2023.

Demo of democracy

Abraham Lincoln’s definition of democracy is perhaps the most quoted: “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” 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—or at least the most successful—campaign 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 “On Your Mandate” 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’s  Akpabio’s job to keep Tinubu in check, yet he calls him a king. If that doesn’t tell you we’re in trouble, nothing will.

All politics is local

Okay, so the federal lawmakers bow to “king Tinubu”. But what about the state governments? Surely, democratically elected governors—voted in by their own people—can 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 ₦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’d learn from Nyesom Wike that Fubara’s suspension was lifted overseen by Tinubu.

Democratically elected state governors shouldn’t have to switch to the President’s 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’t 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’ve never had it this bad

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

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

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’s Democratic Party (PDP) held almost as much numerical power as the APC does today. They grew from , , and in Obasanjo’s 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’s 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’Adua’s 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’s 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’s 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—popularly known as the nPDP—. 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’s 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’s 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 “would stay in that government house.”

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’s own Attorney-General of the Federation, Mohammed Bello Adoke, backed by other cabinet members, looked the president in the eye and —”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’s rights from executive overreach.

Today, that same Kashim Shettima sits as the Vice President to Bola Tinubu—a 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’d think they’re 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’ve seen this Senate tell Tinubu’s executive picks to “” 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—i˛Ôł¦±ôłÜ»ĺľ±˛Ô˛µ opposition figures like Samuel Ortom of Benue State—resisted, 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’s 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—just buying food—unaffordable 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—Bola Tinubu.

It’s 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—it 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 —we’d 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—at least the ones I worked in—did 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’d 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—short 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’s not like Nigeria, where you even have morning devotions at work.

Then there’s 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’t 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.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

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’m not sure it would be a wise decision. But if things change for the better, why not?

I’m also considering moving to the United States (US). I’ve 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’m 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’t have family here, we lean on each other. My best friend and I moved at the same time—she 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’s 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’s 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’t 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 £300, I can easily do it. I can fly out, chill for a few days, and come back. And £300 isn’t even a lot of money; I can make that in a single shift. It’s 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’ll say Morocco. We’d 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’ve 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’t 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).

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

Tinubu and borrowing—a 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’s ironic because it’s 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 ₦19,000 to over ₦100,000 for non-STEM courses and over ₦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’s 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: “The Loan amount shall become fully and immediately due and payable 2 years post NYSC.”

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’s Nigeria, studying medicine at a federal university like UNILAG will cost you over ₦1 million in mandatory fees. If you add from NELFUND, you will graduate with over ₦2.2 million in debt.

How would that work in a country with a ₦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’s 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 —we’d love to hear from you!

Elizabeth (33) has moved between Nigeria and the UK throughout her life. In this story, she shares some truly scary experiences she has had in Nigeria, explains why she can’t wait to leave the UK, and opens up about what it’s like connecting with Nigerians who see her as an outsider. 

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

I live in the United Kingdom, and I left Nigeria in 2019. I’ve moved between both countries throughout my life.

Tell me more about that.

I was born in the UK and grew up here, but I went to Nigeria for three years of boarding school, a month of A-levels, and then again for university.

Going to Nigeria for medical school was a way to connect with my culture. I had worked with Nigerian doctors in the past, and they were just built differently. They had incredible confidence and grit; they were resilient in a way that other doctors were not. I wanted to know how they were trained so I could be like them, because they truly inspired me. So, I chose a Nigerian university.

What inspired you to move back to the UK?

I wanted to stay in Nigeria for my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) year. I was very into public health at the time, and wanted a chance to work in that area for service.

But my parents said, “Absolutely not.” They actually bought the tickets themselves and sent them to me. They insisted that Nigeria was not safe and that I had to come back home.

Let’s talk about life in Nigeria. What was it like coming here for school?

It was a rollercoaster. It’s the type of experience that makes you realise you’re not exactly like the people you think are yours. I came back believing I’m Nigerian and in my country, but people were very much giving me the vibe that I was not one of them. To them, I was “oyinbo.”

With time, I learned the mannerisms and the cultural nuances that make Nigerians, and things got better. For example, learning that “come and eat” is just something people say even when they don’t really want you to eat with them.

But medical school was a different experience altogether. It was very challenging by itself.

How so?

Sometimes your colleagues, senior students, lecturers, and doctors can have issues with you for intangible reasons. For example, when I was working in a state hospital in Nigeria before I left, a superior who was two levels above me at the time just really hated my accent.

I used to put on an intentional Nigerian accent in my attempt to blend in, but there were certain words that I hadn’t yet learned to say in a Nigerian accent, so my original British accent would peek through at times. Because of that, she used to make life horrible for no reason, just assuming I thought I was better than her. I would wonder, “How can I think I am better than you? You are my senior.” She just had it out for me and made sure I suffered whenever I worked with her, which was all the time.

I had to accept that people just wouldn’t like me because of their own preconceived notions of what I represent, even if I don’t actually possess those traits. It was a similar thing in boarding school, but it was worse there because they could physically beat you, and they did beat me a lot.

On the other hand, some people also just adore you because you came from abroad. They would talk to me just to hear my voice and accent. They didn’t really care about what I was saying; they just wanted to hear what I sounded like. For them, I was their first experience of someone from overseas.

So it was a mix of both—one half idolised me and the other half hated me. I never knew which it would be when I met anyone new.

How did that make you feel at the time?

It was hard. After completing Junior Secondary School, I went back to the UK. I remember deciding I was never going to go back to Nigeria again. I was completely over it. The experience was much harder than I expected because growing up in the UK, no one had ever disliked me for no reason.

But it made me stronger, because by the time I came back to Nigeria for university and encountered it again, I was a bit more prepared. I just didn’t like the concept of being treated as an outsider in a place where I’m supposed to belong. It was difficult because the whole point of going to university there was to connect with my Nigerian culture and not be an outsider.

Have you been back to Nigeria since you left in 2019?

Yes, I have been back for holidays, weddings, and to see friends.

What has been your best holiday experience in Nigeria so far?

I’ll say last year. I went to Abuja for a wedding, and then I went to Lagos and Ibadan, all within about 10 or 11 days. I got to see many places that I hadn’t seen in a long time, and visited spots I had only ever heard about on podcasts. The restaurants were good, the gym was great, and everything was fun.

Since it was a short burst of ten days and we kept moving across different states, the novelty stayed very much alive. If I had stayed longer, I probably would have started experiencing the typical fatigue that comes with the travel, transport, and infrastructure issues.

Do you see yourself settling permanently in Nigeria in the future, or is the UK home for you?

I hope to retire in Nigeria down the line, maybe when I’m like 70 years old. Of course, that’s based on the hope that the country doesn’t get worse by that time.

What has been your worst experience in Nigeria?

There are so many, but I can talk about the top ones.

Wow. Okay, go ahead.

So, first was a scary police encounter. I was in an Uber ride, coming back from the Island to the Mainland late at night, around 2:00 a.m. The police stopped the car near the Lekki Phase 1 gate and ordered us to get out of the vehicle.

My heart was in my mouth because you hear all these stories of what has happened to other people in those exact circumstances with the police. They didn’t physically harm us; they just made us get down and asked, “What do you have for us?” But the fact that they ordered us out of the car entirely made it much scarier than a regular checkpoint stop.

That’s always scary. Glad to hear it wasn’t worse than that.

Thanks. Next was a near-death experience at Tarkwa Bay. At the jetty, the boat wasn’t secured properly, so as I stepped off, it slipped, and I fell into the water. There was maybe only an inch between my head and the concrete wall as I tumbled all the way into the water. It was very close to being a completely different story.

Thank God I can swim. I swam up, and people from the shoreline and staff members ran over to pull me up because the jetty wall is quite high, and it’s hard to get out on your own. I still proceeded to do what I went to Tarkwa Bay to do before going home, because I couldn’t come all that way for nothing.

What could possibly top a near-death experience, though?

Getting sexually harassed by a senior doctor?

It was my very first night in the Obstetrics and Gynaecology department at the hospital where I was working. In between operations, while waiting for the nurses to prepare the next patient for the theatre, the senior doctor asked me to follow him to a separate location to copy some case notes.

We got into the room, and he locked the door behind us. When I asked what was going on, he said, “You know why we are here.” I replied that I only thought we came to write notes. Then he said something that infuriates me to this day: “You’re from London na.” As if there is some automatic correlation between being from London and being promiscuous.

I demanded he let me out or I would scream. He still wouldn’t, so I began counting down, “Three, two…” and then he opened the door. I was so afraid because he was a senior doctor who had been there for years; I thought people wouldn’t believe me.

I chose not to file a formal report because I’d experienced something similar before during my one month in a Nigerian A-level school. The authorities didn’t believe me over the maths teacher who’d worked there for years. Anyway, I told my fellow house officers. They were males, and they agreed to protect me by immediately offering themselves instead whenever that specific doctor tried to pick me as his house officer. Thankfully, about a week later, he was transferred out of the team entirely.

Sorry you had to go through that.

Thanks.

What about your best experiences in Nigeria?

I’ll start with winning the inter-house sports events at my secondary school three years in a row. I was a sprinter—I ran the 100m, 400m, and 800m—and I did cheerleading as well. Graduating from medical school was also a major happy moment.

It was also great randomly running into celebrities in Lagos. You could just attend a launch party for a drink brand and find yourself taking pictures on stage with celebrities.

What are your favourite and least favourite things about Nigeria?

My least favourite thing is the sense of helplessness within the country. There is a lot of helplessness about what can be done to improve or change things; people are demoralised, and while I can’t completely blame them, it is unpleasant to experience.

My favourite thing is the exact opposite side of that same coin: when given the right opportunity to succeed, Nigerians do incredibly well. It is very inspiring. That was the main reason I went there for university in the first place—seeing Nigerians who were doing super well globally. It is interesting how a Nigerian in one context can be so inspiring, yet in another context, the environment can be deeply demoralising.

°Őłó±đĚý 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. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

Let’s talk about life in the UK now. What is your typical routine?

My routine is quite simple. I get up, pray, go to the gym, come back, and get my baby ready for nursery. I take him to nursery, or my mum-in-law helps drop him off, and then I go to work.

When I get back from work, I pick him up and handle his evening routine. Then I take care of any additional administrative tasks that come home with me from work. On some evenings, I go to church for choir practice, and on others, I hang out with friends. I don’t go out on weekday nights, but I do on weekends.

What do you do for fun in the UK?

I schedule hangouts with my friends. We plan activities like pottery, painting, arts and crafts, or anything novel to us. During the summer, there are a lot more events, so we go to concerts, parks, and swim.

What are your favourite and least favourite things about living in the UK?

My least favourite thing is the tax. I pay 40% tax. I understand that it’s a necessary evil, but it’s still a lot.

My favourite thing is having most of my family here. I have my husband, my son, my parents, my grandparents, and my cousins, all here with me.

There’s a growing wave of anti-immigrant sentiment in the UK. What has that been like for you?

It is very sad to see because the UK depends heavily on immigrants to function across every single sector. It hasn’t affected me directly, but I do academic research on this topic regarding International Medical Graduates (IMGs). My research looks into how they are disadvantaged by the exam culture in the UK because they weren’t brought up in the same system, leading to higher failure rates.

On a societal level, it is very worrying. In 2024, the year I gave birth, there were major riots across the country with rioters trying to harm people of colour. The police put it down, but the sentiment is still there; there was another march just a few weeks ago. It makes you worry about who you are working next to and whether they are online, writing hate comments.

The political rhetoric claims immigrants are taking all the jobs, but it’s not true. For example, I have taken part in hiring processes here. By law, we have to assess all the British applicants first, and we can only look at international candidates with visas if those local options are exhausted. The right-wing media simply stoked the sentiment because it is an easy way to divide the country.

Have you encountered racism on a personal level?

The last time someone was overtly racist to me was on a bus in London, which is ironic given how multicultural London is. I had my headphones in, so thank God I didn’t hear the exact words she was saying, but it was an elderly white lady. I was sitting in a regular, non-priority seat, and she had plenty of options to sit elsewhere.

Instead, she stood right in front of me and demanded I give up my seat. I just kept playing my music and watched her face squeeze as her mouth moved. The passengers around us looked deeply offended by the horrible profanities she was spewing, but nobody stopped her. That is how the UK is—unless it is outright physical violence, people generally mind their own business.

I chose not to let it ruin my day or get offended, so I just kept my headphones in and remained seated until my journey ended. It didn’t make a difference to me.

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

I’ll say seven. I still want a better quality of life than I can get here. So, I am actually hoping to leave the UK very soon. With the medical work that I do, I can get paid a lot more and live a much happier life in places like Australia, Canada, or even the United States. The time is coming for me to move somewhere else, and to be honest, I can’t wait.

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).