They told me the streets of London were paved with gold. They told me that once I "japa," my life would automatically upgrade. They lied. I spent four years in the UK working as a healthcare assistant, wiping bottoms, swallowing racism, and surviving on shift work that destroyed my sleep cycle. I saved £25,000. Sounds impressive until you convert it and realize I gave up my prime years for money that can't buy back my sanity. Last December, I came home for Christmas and something shifted. I sat in my family compound in Enugu, eating fresh ukwa under the mango tree, and I wept. I had forgotten what peace felt like. In London, I was a "key worker" — a fancy word for modern-day serf. Here, I am a person. I have returned permanently. I used my savings to start an agro-processing business. I earn less on paper, but I live more in reality. The "japa" community will @ttack me. "You couldn't hack it." "You are lazy." "You should have stayed and suffered like the rest of us." But why must suffering be the badge of honor? Why is leaving your homeland treated as the only valid ambition? The UK needs Nigerian labor; it does not love Nigerian people. I was tired of being tolerated. This is not an anti-japa post. It is a pro-choice post. If you want to leave, leave. But stop shaming those who choose to stay and build. Stop making it seem like Nigeria is a waiting room for the departure lounge. Some of us are planting trees we intend to sit under. Have you ever regretted relocating? Or are you abroad and too proud to admit you're lonely? Let's be honest for once.
