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 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).

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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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).

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

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

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

What inspired you to leave Nigeria?

Honestly, I didn’t have a particularly strong reason to leave. I just got an opportunity, and I took it. I had already gained admission into the University of Lagos (UNILAG) to study medicine, but then the scholarship for Russia came through, and I chose that instead.

How did you get the scholarship?

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

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

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

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

The weather hit me hard. I wasn’t prepared for it. We were warned that the temperature went to negative figures, but knowing and feeling are two completely different things. It was my first time seeing snow, my first time experiencing that kind of cold. It was almost painful, but eventually, I got used to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When are you expected to graduate?

If things go according to plan, 2029.

Does the scholarship have any academic performance requirements?

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

Are your classes taught in Russian or English?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And how do you balance that with medical school?

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

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

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

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

Have you experienced racism in these three years?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

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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).

Success* (28) is a medical doctor who moved to the UK to escape insecurity and poor salaries. In this story, she shares her experiences with the culture shocks of British medical practice, racist microaggressions and why she finds herself praying less often since relocating to the UK.

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

I live in the United Kingdom (UK), and I left Nigeria in early 2025.

What inspired you to leave Nigeria for the UK?

Everything. But let me start with the insecurity. I grew up in the northern part of Nigeria, so I saw firsthand the terrorism and religious intolerance. When I was young, there were times we had to be searched with bomb detectors before we entered church after a church had been bombed on Christmas Day.

Another catalyst for my relocation was the salaries for doctors in Nigeria—it’s just too little. When I practised in Nigeria, I earned ₦300,000 per month, and that was barely enough to cover my basic needs. In addition to the reason I mentioned, I had always wanted to leave Nigeria as early as my primary and secondary school days. I got a peek at what life was like abroad from friends who vacationed abroad with their parents. 

It’s the reason I studied medicine. I knew that healthcare workers were highly sought after in many parts of the world. So I knew it would give me a good chance to leave Nigeria.

What was life like for you in Nigeria before you left?

Working in a private hospital, I was making about ₦300,000 a month. I was only able to afford a shared apartment with that. But it was a terrible experience. We only had electricity between 4:00 AM and 6:00 AM. So I had this huge power bank that I’d charge at work and in church on Sundays. That was how my life was in Nigeria; it wasn’t easy.

As you said, doctors are in high demand in many parts of the world. Why did you choose the UK?

I chose the UK because the migration pathway for other countries is quite expensive. Though we are highly sought after, the process doesn’t come cheap. The UK is relatively cheaper than other countries, but it still cost me about ₦7 million to migrate. That was because I passed my exams on my first try. Some people have had to write the exams twice or thrice, and that increases the cost.

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There are very few doctors in Nigeria, currently about one doctor for every 10,000 patients. Do you have any feelings about that?

It does bother me because I’m always thinking about my family back home. What happens when my parents or other loved ones need medical care? Here, people can walk into the hospital almost dead, and we’re able to get very good outcomes because we have all the equipment we need. It makes me think back to my time in Nigeria, where we didn’t have the equipment, and we didn’t even have enough hands. It makes me worry about my family, but I can only put them in my prayers.

I also think about the times when I was back home in Nigeria, when I couldn’t really take care of my basic needs—it was difficult for me to get a place, having a car could only be a dream, and I was basically living off my parents. I think about all of these things.

With the way the Nigerian government is running the country, I don’t think you can blame doctors for leaving. I don’t feel guilty because I know that the Nigerian political system did not create a conducive environment for us to stay.

Doctors spend a lot of time in school, go through a lot of difficult exams, and a lot of money is spent training us. But when we graduate, we get paltry salaries, worth next to nothing. A lot of doctors have to work in multiple hospitals  to make ends meet. I did that too: I would work a morning shift in one hospital and then a night shift somewhere else. That’s the reality for many doctors in Nigeria.

Yes, Nigeria needs doctors. But leaving is the best option at this time. We want a good life for ourselves and our families. We want safe lives too. I’ve heard of doctors getting kidnapped back in Nigeria. It’s really crazy.

How has life been in the UK so far?

My life is much better compared to when I was in Nigeria. First of all, I have a better work-life balance. I don’t have to work two jobs just to make ends meet. There’s a 48-hour cap every week. You are not meant to work more than 48 hours a week. So this means  I have time to do other things with my life.

I can afford my own place. I have savings and investments now, unlike in Nigeria, where I couldn’t afford to do either.

Food here is actually cheaper than back home. When I was in Nigeria, I always had anxiety about going to the market because the spaghetti I bought for  ₦500 this month could become ₦1,000 the next. But here, prices are very stable. I think my life here is better. I can support my family more, and I have a better community. Overall, it’s just better.

What’s your support system like?

I don’t have any nuclear family here; I’m the first person in my nuclear family to actually leave Nigeria. I have some members of my extended family here, but we are not so close.

But I have my church members. I also go to the gym, and I’ve made friends there. I have friends at work too. I know some people say not to make friends at work, but I’ve had a different experience. I have really nice coworkers.

Now my support system is actually growing. I’m getting to know more people and becoming acquainted with my environment.

Are these friends Nigerian?

The majority of friends I’ve made here are Nigerians or fellow Africans. It’s just easier to make friends with people you share similar cultures and backgrounds with. For example, the town I live in is white-dominated, so once you see a Nigerian, there’s this internal joy that you feel. It’s like any Nigerian at your workplace is automatically your friend.

I think if you’re able to have non-African friends, that means you both must have a very strong bond for that friendship to actually work out, because you’ll have very little in common.

Have you felt any sort of discrimination or racism since you arrived in the UK?

I have, but it’s nothing overt. What I feel at times is what we call microaggressions. An example was when I was looking for a house; landlords would see my name,, noticed that it doesn’t sound British, so they wouldn’t call me for house viewings.

But at work, I don’t feel any form of racism from my colleagues or from patients. The National Health Service (NHS) has a strict policy against racism. If any patient is racist to any doctor, that patient can be ordered out of the hospital, as long as they don’t have an emergency condition. So patients are cautious about what they say.

It’s the same with colleagues from other nationalities who are non-African. I notice that whenever they are talking to me, they try to carefully pick their words because they don’t want to come off as offensive. I think that can also affect making friends with non-Africans, because they’re always second-guessing everything they say. That doesn’t allow for real connections to form.

What about the growing anti-immigrant rhetoric? Does that make you feel uncomfortable?

It has created a bit of uncertainty because the policies are constantly changing, and you don’t know which policy they will come up with next, or how it will affect you. The  Prioritisation Act, for instance, basically says that UK-trained doctors have to be considered for jobs first before doctors from other countries. This was passed after I came here.

I’ve heard British doctors at work talking about how immigrant doctors are taking their jobs. Initially, when I came to the UK, I was always telling people that I got my job from Nigeria. But I noticed they were not really happy to hear that. It was more like, “Okay, you’re one of the people who took our jobs from us.”

I felt guilty about it for a very long time. But I had to deal with the guilt and tell myself that I got the job because I deserved it, and I worked for it. With time, I stopped telling people how I got my job. I only mention it to people I really feel comfortable with.

But one thing I always say is that there’s love at home. So if they say that I can’t stay here anymore, I’ll go back to my country.

Apart from working, what activities do you get up to in the UK?

I’m kind of an extrovert, so I spend more time outside than at home. During my free time, I go to the gym. I’m also learning how to swim. I sing, so I’ve joined the choir in church. I love going to shows too. During the summer, there are usually events happening around, like Afrobeats concerts. I usually go for those kinds of things.

I visit my friends, and my friends come over to see me. I travel, and it’s safe. I’ve always loved travelling, but in Nigeria, I couldn’t really travel so much because of the insecurity and the accidents. But here, the roads are freer, and it’s safer, so I travel easily without any restrictions or any anxiety that something bad will happen to me.

I also use my free time to bulk cook. You can’t be late to work; there’s a very strong work ethic here. So when I’m not at work, a huge chunk of my time is spent preparing for my next period at work. I clean my house, iron my scrubs, and cook in bulk so that nothing delays me when I’m going to work the next day.

What culture shocks did you experience when you arrived?

They like queuing. There’s a queue for everything. There was a time when I first arrived, and I wanted to jump the queue with my normal Nigerian mentality, and someone confronted me about it.

Another thing is that everyone tries to be polite. Unlike in Nigeria, where people show their anger. For British people, even when they are really angry, they smile, and they try to be calm. Trying to unlearn that Nigerian directness so you don’t get labelled as aggressive is not easy.

It’s also the same at work. You have to learn how they communicate. In Nigeria, we have a direct way of communicating; you can tell people exactly what needs to be done. But you don’t want to look patriarchal in the UK, so there’s a way you try to use flowery words: “Oh, would you like to do this?” “Do you think it will be okay if you do this?”

Also, unlike in Nigeria, where you can gossip and make some jokes at work, you can’t just make any type of joke here because it may be offensive to the next person. I miss the laidback work culture that we have in Nigeria.

As for the accent, when I came here initially, it was difficult to hear what people were saying. In Nigeria, I used to believe I had a very good command of English, but when I came to the UK, I was taken aback by people asking me to repeat myself because they couldn’t understand me. At times, I have to spell a word to make them understand my pronunciation of it. For someone who learned English as a first language back home, that was a big shock.

Definitely. How did you manage?

I try to speak as slowly as possible so that people can hear me, and I don’t get offended if someone tells me to repeat what I say. Also, I try to demonstrate. When I’m conversing with a patient, if I want to talk about any eye pain, I may just point to my eye so that they can easily get what I mean. I also avoid using big words or complex grammar and just try to use the simplest English possible, and that actually helps.

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

I’ll say 20.

Wow.

I feel that all the things Nigeria took away from me in 27 years cannot be gotten back in one year. It’s a journey, but so far so good.

I am happier in the UK. I’m less anxious, and I’m praying less. I know people might see that as a bad thing, but in Nigeria, most of my prayers were built out of anxiety: “Let me have food to eat,” “As I’m going to work, may an okada not crush my leg,” “May I not be kidnapped,” “May I not have an accident.” All those kinds of things. I don’t have those anxieties anymore.

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Mike (43) moved to the UK for a master’s degree when he became disillusioned with life in Nigeria. In this story, he shares the struggle of being a mature student in data science, and how a Christmas holiday in the UK turned into a permanent relocation for his family after he secretly applied for jobs on his wife’s behalf.

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

I currently live in Kent, United Kingdom, and I left Nigeria just after the pandemic in January 2021.

Was that your first time leaving the country?

No, I have travelled out of the country several times. My spouse and I go on vacation almost every year, but that was the first time I knew I was going for the long term.

What inspired you to make that move?

I saw the trajectory things were taking in Nigeria, and realised it was not the kind of place I would like my children to grow up in. There was this general sense of helplessness, especially after the EndSARS protests and what happened at the Lekki Toll Gate.

It felt like there was no sense of order. To get things done, you had to know. I saw no structure; everything had to do with power or who you know. From my perspective, I just saw a continuous breakdown of law and order, and I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore.

But what was life like for you before you left?

Life was not bad at all. I was a project manager in an oil servicing firm, and my wife was doing very well, too. She had risen up the ladder to be a Managing Director at a fintech after years in investment banking. Life was good. We were living in our own house, we had two cars, and my children were going to some of the best schools around.

However, there was this general sense of insecurity. Once, my children’s school bus didn’t come back to drop the kids off on time. We would learn later that it was due to traffic, but when we couldn’t reach the drivers and the teacher with them, our first thought wasn’t a possible traffic jam. The first thing we thought was, “Have they kidnapped our kids?” You could feel the general insecurity in the country, and you know it can touch you at any time, regardless of how much you have.

How did you move to the UK?

I came for a Master’s in Data Science. During my studies, my wife and kids came over for a Christmas holiday. My wife is highly skilled, so I took her CV and put it out there without her knowing. Within a couple of days, she was already getting calls for interviews from some top companies. She couldn’t believe it.

She was actually against relocating at first because of the life we had built in Nigeria. But the speed with which those calls came flipped the switch for her. I also took her to see friends she knew over the years who were already established in the UK, living comfortably in good neighbourhoods. It gave her a picture of what was possible within a short period if we chose to build a life here.

She didn’t go back after that holiday. Her role in Nigeria was remote, so she worked from the UK for a couple of months until she got a very good job here. Our house in Nigeria was locked for about five years before we rented it out recently.

So staying wasn’t always the plan?

From my perspective, it was the plan. But my wife wasn’t too keen. She was at the peak of her career in Nigeria. But when she saw how fast she was getting senior management interviews here, things changed. It took her 12 years to reach that level in Nigeria, but within three days of putting her CV out in the UK, she was getting calls. This was just after COVID, so there was a high need for specialised skills. She got a job offer that sponsored her, so we have been under her skilled worker visa.

Since you moved to the UK, have you been back to Nigeria at all?

Yes. The year I travelled, I lost my dad, so I came back for his burial. But since my wife and kids moved here, we have not been back.

What was your first experience like arriving in the UK?

It is totally different from coming for a three-week vacation. This was the height of COVID, so restrictions were still in place. For the first time, I saw how things really work. I remember going to a bus stop, and my app told me the bus would be there at 3:15 PM. At 3:15 PM on the dot, the bus came; I almost shed a tear. In Lagos, you can’t have public transport that can be timed.

I realised that here, even with a menial job, you can afford an okay life. As a security guard in McDonald’s, you can afford to travel somewhere in Europe once or twice a year for a holiday. Menial jobs are not looked down upon. My wife insisted I shouldn’t work so she could fund my lifestyle, but as a man, I had to work. So I did some menial jobs while I was a student. I was able to get warehouse and care gigs while in school.

Why did you choose Data Science, and what do you do now?

I chose Data Science because I knew the world was moving towards machine learning and AI, and I had a background in mathematics and computer science. Studying it was hard because I was in my late 30s, struggling alongside 22-year-olds from India and Nigeria. Now, I still work in data, but I focus on data and AI governance.

What is life like now?

When I finished school in Leeds, we moved to Kent, where we live now and where my wife’s job is. At the time, things changed, and she went from a largely remote schedule to a hybrid one. But it was also time for our kids to start secondary school, and the best Grammar Schools are in Kent, so it just made sense.

Also, Kent is much closer to London. It’s about 45 minutes by train, or an hour if you drive. And London is basically like Lagos in terms of jobs. The moment I changed my address when we moved, I started getting a lot more job offers.

So the move has been great, and life is good. My wife has a great job, I have a good job too that I really enjoy, and our kids are in great schools.

Sounds great. Which was your favourite city to live in?

I was resistant to moving from Leeds because it was less expensive; when we moved to Kent, we were paying almost double the rent. But I have grown to love Kent. It is quiet and reserved, and if we want the bubbly vibe of London, it is just 45 minutes away.

How much contact do you still have with Nigeria? Do you see yourself returning permanently?

Nigeria will always be home; we still have a house there. But most of my friends are no longer in Nigeria; they have moved to Australia, Canada, or the UK. My close friends and I actually meet regularly in the UK. I still try to stay up to date on Nigerian news, but the connection is not as strong. Once we get full citizenship, we might make more frequent trips home.

As for settling long-term, there is a possibility because we still have property in Nigeria. At the same time, I like the idea of being a global citizen, so it might not be Nigeria we retire to—it could be Botswana or Rwanda—but Nigeria will always be a base.

What is your support system like in the UK?

The move to the UK can either make or break you as a family. If there are any cracks in your relationship, it will widen them. That’s why we hear of so many people ending up divorced after they move here. But if your relationship is solid, it can bring you closer. For us, it has made us closer.

We were both very intentional about picking roles that allow for remote or hybrid work. My wife is almost fully remote, and I only go to the office once every two weeks. This gives us time to be part of our kids’ lives.

In Nigeria, we had help, and our parents were around, so we would leave at 5:00 AM and not be back until 10:00 PM. We wouldn’t see the kids awake until the weekend. Now, I drop my daughter off every day and pick my son up from the train station. We do homework together.

We have no help here, whereas we had two in Nigeria. So we’re a lot more hands-on with our children now. If you are the kind of man who has a problem with doing housework, you will struggle. I’ve always been hands-on, so it has worked out great, and it has been one of the best decisions we’ve made.

Was there a culture shock in terms of raising kids in the UK?

Yes. Here, you have to be more intentional. Nigerians believe very strongly in the saying about sparing the rod and spoiling the child. Here, you have to move away from that mindset unless you want social services to take your kids away. You have to find other ways of thinking about discipline, like maybe taking away privileges instead.

Any other culture shocks in general life?

Ironically, I sometimes miss the “anyhowness” of Nigeria. For example, the driving test in the UK was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. It’s harder than getting a job.

What was so difficult about the driving test?

It’s about recalibrating your mind to be on the other side of the road. We are not used to obeying road signs in Nigeria. Driving there is basically a “free-for-all.” So here, you have to unlearn those bad habits first. I think it is actually better if you have never driven in Nigeria before you come here, because you won’t have to unlearn so much.

What has been your worst experience?

My first winter was terrible; I realised I didn’t pack the right types of clothes. I hate the weather here. Even now in May, it is still cold.

One other bad experience was being kicked out of my apartment at night with my wife and kids. This was when they came for the Christmas holiday. I was staying in my one-room apartment in a shared flat for students while my wife was doing her job interviews. I had signed a rule saying multiple people couldn’t stay in the room. I think a housemate ratted me out to the landlord. He came knocking, saw my family, and said they had to leave that night or he’d be fined by the council.

We had to hop on a bus at midnight to stay with my wife’s cousin in a different city. We spent five days there, and within that time, she got the job offer that allowed us to rent a two-bedroom house. That night was terrible; I felt like I had put my family in a mess.

Wow. What has been your best experience?

The best part is just how quickly we’ve been able to settle. Within three years, we had bought our house and were both in very good jobs.

So it all worked out in the end. What do you like most about the UK?

I like that if you are focused, you can plan your life for the next 10 years. You can build a skill and grow. I love how orderly it is and how intentional they are with everyday living. I could sleep without locking my door and not be worried. I recently went up north, and at one point, I was driving at 2:00 AM, and I just thought about how I wasn’t worried about kidnapping or potholes. My only worry was falling asleep at the wheel. That relative safety is something I really value.

You mentioned you are waiting for your paperwork

Yes. It is just a matter of about ten months now. If you are on a skilled worker visa for five years, you qualify for Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR). So we’re almost there.

Does the anti-immigrant rhetoric in the UK make you feel uncomfortable?

We were faced with tribal sentiments back in Nigeria, so it’s not new territory. I only worry about my kids because they already face some of that rhetoric in school. It’s about having conversations with the kids about reality and helping them understand that the world has people like that.

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

I’ll say eight and a half. If you can take away the anti-immigrant rhetoric and give me Nigerian weather, it’ll be a ten.

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Samson* (20) left Nigeria when his family migrated to the UK. In this story, he talks about the initial loneliness of life in the UK, why he decided to move to Georgia for his studies, and the reality of experiencing overt racism in a country where some people are still shocked to see Black people.

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

I currently live in Georgia. I left Nigeria with my family in 2023, and we moved to the United Kingdom (UK).

What inspired you to leave Nigeria?

We were looking for better opportunities, basically. My mom got a job there, and we all decided to move. My mom got there first, about five months before the rest of us joined her.

What was that experience like for you?

Obviously, I was excited, but I also felt sad because I would be leaving my friends behind. I get very attached to people. But I got over it eventually. I’ve met new people here. And I still talk to my friends in Nigeria a lot too. 

When we arrived, we stayed at an uncle’s place for about four months. He made sure we did not lack anything. So it was a very relaxed start to life in the UK. But not being able to do anything or go out with friends got to me quite a bit, to be honest.

It has been a good experience; it just came with a bit of loneliness. But I wouldn’t change anything about it.

What are you up to now? 

I’m studying medicine in Georgia. I moved here in 2025.

Studying medicine in the UK is quite expensive as an international student. My parents cannot keep up with that kind of expense. So I looked for cheaper alternatives around Europe, like Romania.  I eventually settled on Georgia.

How are you finding life in Georgia?

It’s fine, I guess. It is a less developed country than the UK. When I first got here, it felt a bit like mini Lagos because of the hustling and bubbling. There are still signs of the old Soviet era. You see new, good-looking buildings and older, terrible-looking ones side by side.

The primary language here is Georgian. English is not really spoken among the older people; they speak Russian and Georgian. Some younger people speak English alongside Georgian.

To be honest, it feels like the government here does not care about the Georgian people. You see people begging on the streets in traffic. People really struggle here. Even lecturers and medical doctors struggle so badly in this country.

Coming from the UK, when I convert Pounds to the Georgian Lari, I can live quite comfortably. But the Georgians themselves do not necessarily live a comfortable life; things are very expensive for them.

For me, though, the biggest issue is racism. Some Georgians are not used to Black people, so they can act very strangely around us. 

And you didn’t experience anything like that in the UK?

Not exactly. I feel racism in the UK is more subtle, more hidden. For example, I had a boss at work in the UK who I think might be racist. But I cannot prove it.  He smiles and acts all nice, but I noticed a pattern of strictly assigning certain tasks to the Black members of staff. That’s what racism in the UK felt like. You feel like it’s there, but you can’t exactly prove it.

And in Georgia?

In Georgia, little kids call me the N-word all the time. You see adults who will be the ones to touch you or brush against you, and then they get offended and keep cursing at you in their language. You see people recording you; some might do it out of curiosity, but some actually record you to post you on the internet. It happens all the time.

How does that make you feel, and how do you react to it?

I grew up in Nigeria, where everybody was the same colour. Even when we saw white people, we didn’t really care. So, I don’t really care about it. I know it affects some people, but personally, I couldn’t care less, to be honest.

Does it ever make you feel unsafe?

No, it does not make me feel unsafe. I go out anytime I want. I do anything I want. I really don’t care. If you come to me, we can have a scrap; that is not a problem. But I am not scared of anybody like that.

Please be safe. You mentioned you made new friends. Are these in the UK or Georgia?

Both.

Are they Nigerians, British, or Georgians? How did you meet them?

In the UK, I made friends at work. Most of them are British, some are Albanian, some are Indian, and some are Ghanaian. I don’t really have Nigerian friends in the UK unless you count people at church. But those are acquaintances, not really friends. In Georgia, I made friends at university. Some are Nigerians, some are from the UK, some are Indian, and some are Canadian. It is quite diverse.

Have you been back to Nigeria since you left?

No. The opportunity hasn’t come up yet. I plan to, but not now. Maybe in the next two years.

If you look to the future, do you see yourself returning to Nigeria to settle at some point, or is your life abroad now?

I think I see my life as being abroad. Obviously, it’s not completely up to me right now, but I do see myself continuing to live abroad.

Let’s go back to the UK. Were there any culture shocks you experienced when you first arrived there?

The main culture shock for me was the fact that people don’t go to each other’s houses that much. You can’t send someone to your neighbour’s house to go and chill. Everybody just stays in their own space. Also, the way they behave toward their elders is different; they do not behave the way we do toward ours in Nigeria. Their idea of respect is different. Those are the two main shocks I had.

What is your favourite and least favourite thing about the UK?

I’ll say my favourite thing is how accessible everything is. Anything you want is accessible, whether online or in stores. My least favourite thing is that I feel like the UK wants to put you in debt. Their taxes are very heavy. It feels like they want you to be broke.

What about Georgia? What were the culture shocks there?

This wasn’t a shock compared to Nigeria, but coming from the UK, I was shocked by the homophobia in Georgia. In Nigeria, people are homophobic, and it is the same in Georgia. Most people are very homophobic, and they are aggressive about it. In the UK, people are very chill about it; I have lesbian and gay friends there. In Georgia, it is very different.

What is your favourite and least favourite thing about Georgia?

My favourite thing is that I have more friends compared to the UK because of university. Also, when I convert Pounds to Lari, I’m able to live comfortably. My least favourite thing is the constant staring. I get that some of them do it because they don’t see a lot of Black people and they’re curious. So I try not to pay much mind to it, but it gets to a point.

What are your plans for the future?

Finish medical school and definitely go back to the UK. I’ll try to build my portfolio and find a good-paying job. If I can’t find a job as a doctor immediately, I’ll find anything related to it and continue building myself.

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

For the UK, I’ll say an eight. Everything feels accessible. I have family and friends close by, so it is just very comfortable for me.

I’ll say a seven for Georgia. I think Georgia is a hidden gem. Most people shy away from it, but it is very nice if you actually open up to it—the places, the history, and even some of the people. Not everyone is racist. I’ve met some really good people 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).

Beatrice* (30) moved to Canada in 2023 after losing hope in a future in Nigeria. In this story, she shares her experiences, from getting a job to meeting her fiancé, and how her near-obsessive level of intentionality got her Permanent Residency in Canada in less than three years of living there.

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

I live in Ontario, Canada. I left Nigeria in 2023.

What inspired you to leave Nigeria?

I looked at Nigeria’s economic situation and saw no clear path to success. The government was doing nothing to support the youth. In contrast, I saw how other countries set up programmes for young people and how much easier it was to succeed there.

After serving in the mandatory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), I took up some side hustles, like sewing, and then applied for a postgraduate programme in Canada.

Why Canada?

Canada was the first and only country I applied to. I chose Canada because my brother had been there for years and was already established. The college I got into ended up being close to his house, so I stayed with him, which made everything easy for me.

That sounds convenient. What was it like when you first arrived?

I had the softest landing you could ever imagine. My brother picked me up from the airport and took me home. He prepared everything for my arrival to the point of even making my bed. I had everything I needed to start up. He reassured me that all I needed to do was focus on my studies, and that’s what I did. I focused on school and graduated with honours.

I also ensured that while living with my brother, I respected his space. I didn’t disrespect the common areas; I cooked his favourite meals, kept the house clean, and always sought his permission before inviting friends over. He’s my brother, but I didn’t want to cross a line because disrespecting someone’s space can make them feel a certain way. Living with him meant getting a job wasn’t an immediate priority until I graduated. I  got a job just a few months after finishing school.

How was your social life at first?

I had some Nigerians in my class, and we would go out once in a while and host each other at our places. I arrived during the spring, which is short, so summer came quickly with many activities.

To integrate, I gathered all the information I could. I asked a lot of questions. I also followed many Canadian-based creatives on social media who shared their struggles and how they navigated the system. Following them helped me stay informed because they broke things down in an easy-to-understand way.

What is your situation like now?

Financially, I’m doing well, I have a good job, I’m engaged and planning for my wedding. So, it is going well so far.

I think a mistake many people make when they come to a new country is bringing the old mindset from wherever they are coming from. I acknowledged from the onset that this was a new environment. I learned how to talk to people, what to talk about and what to avoid. At work right now, there are certain things I wouldn’t mention or ask because I understand the culture is different.

Also, I was very intentional about many things, including the relationships I kept and the quality of the people I surrounded myself with. Everything I have now in terms of a social life is because of that intentionality. I have a very strong friend group that supports each other. I actually met my fiancé through a friend of a friend.

Nice. You mentioned knowing what topics to avoid in the workplace. Could you give some examples?

It’s best to avoid talking about politics here. People aren’t going to declare who they’re voting for like we might do in Nigeria. On the other hand, in Nigeria, people are usually secretive about certain things, like pregnancy, for instance. But here, people talk about pregnancy very openly. You can ask a colleague about their due date, and they will tell you.

It’s also best to avoid sharing too many details about your personal life, especially with white colleagues. For example, if you’re constantly telling them during check-ins that your weekends are “stressful” or you have too much going on at home, they start to notice trends.  If you start to flop at work, they might use that as a reason to lay you off, saying they want you to go “take care of yourself.” You have to be smart and not give them a pattern they can use to put you in a box.

Sounds like smart advice. You said you were intentional about relationships. What were you looking for in a partner?

I wanted a kind person. Kindness lies at the foundation of everything else. A kind person will care for you, support you, and won’t want to see you suffer. My fiancĂ© had that quality, so it triggered our conversations.

Is your partner Nigerian?

Yes, he is Nigerian.

Have you been back to Nigeria since you left?

No, I haven’t. We will go home soon for our wedding. I wanted to get my permanent residency (PR) before travelling, which I have now.

Oh. That was quick.

Yes. That’s something else I was very intentional about. Some people have been here longer than I have and aren’t permanent residents yet because they didn’t do proper research into the system. I got my permanent residency in less than three years, and that even includes my study year.

How did you get your PR so quickly?

Before I even entered the pool, I used the to check my score. I researched current trends and accepted scores. Then I used the website to see what I needed to improve my score to ensure I had enough points. I realised I needed a very high English test score, so I prepared hard and got a score of 11 out of 12.

When I was unemployed, I was very vocal about it. I talked to everyone I knew to get advice, which helped me shape my resume. Also, I made sure to get a job in a field that would give me extra points for PR. Some people work for a long time only to realise later that the job they’ve been doing doesn’t count towards their PR score. I made sure to research all of these things from the beginning, and it influenced the job I chose. I also got extra points because my brother is a resident here.

Do you see yourself returning to Nigeria permanently?

With the state of things right now, no. It doesn’t look like the government is working for the people or prioritising their needs. I don’t live there, so I am not in the know of everything, but I see what is in the media and have conversations with my parents who are still there. In Canada, I see the government’s efforts to make life easier, more affordable, and of higher quality for people. I don’t see that same effort in Nigeria.

What culture shocks have you experienced in Canada?

The first was politeness. People are polite, but I wouldn’t say they are “nice.” They will smile as they say something you don’t want to hear. You might go for a job interview, and they will smile and chat, making you think you’re getting the job for sure. Then they’ll turn you down with that same smile. In Nigeria, if someone doesn’t like you, it’s easy to know even from a distance. Here, a smile doesn’t mean friendship, and you shouldn’t cross lines just because someone is smiling at you.

Another shocker was the tax. When you buy something, the price on the shelf is not the final price because taxes aren’t embedded. You go to check out, and the price changes. Everything is taxed—water, candy, and services like getting your hair done. That is separate from the tax taken from your paycheck.

Then, the weather, there is no getting used to it. The weather is brutal; you just have to embrace it every year. You have to layer up and stay warm, or you will get sick. My body is still trying to adjust. Sometimes I just think to myself, “It doesn’t make sense for a place inhabited by humans to be this cold.”

What has been your worst experience in Canada?

I don’t think I’ve had a significantly bad experience.  But job hunting was a humbling time. Having people look impressed in an interview only to ghost me afterwards was hard, but luckily, I didn’t have to deal with that for too long.

What has been your best experience?

Meeting my circle of friends. I am so grateful for the people I have. We are always there for each other—visiting, celebrating, and supporting one another. Knowing I have people who care for me outside my family makes life easier. Meeting my fiancé is also one of the biggest highlights.

What are your favourite and least favourite things about Canada?

My favourite thing is that no one cares about your status. No one cares about your bank account or what car you drive. There is no pressure to perform or fake your life. I have colleagues who earn much more than I do but take the train to work; being normal is normal here.

The public facilities are also great. I take the train, and I can nap, work, or watch a movie in it because it’s comfortable and safe. During the summer, even if you are broke, there are so many free third spaces and activities—lakes, parks, and gardens. It doesn’t cost much to live a decent life here.

My least favourite thing is the taxes. I understand they make public services good, but it feels like too much. I probably feel this way because I don’t have kids yet and am not enjoying the full benefits, like free education or healthcare.

Have you ever experienced racism?

Not directly. And honestly, I don’t think I’d care if I did. I have high self-esteem. If you’re being racist to me, I might not even notice it at first because my mind doesn’t go there. I know the value of my life, and you don’t define me. If you think I’m different because of my skin colour, it tells me your mind is shallow, so why should I care what you think?

What are your long-term plans?

I want to be financially stable, own a home, and own a business. I see Canada as home, and I am not looking to migrate anywhere else.

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

Ten. I know certain things worked in my favour, but a lot of what I have was also due to my intentionality. I have what I need: a job and a system that supports me. Why wouldn’t I be happy?

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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