In the quiet of a chilly morning in London, 28-year-old Temi Adeyemi pulls her coat tighter as she rushes into the Tube. It’s a far cry from the hot and busy streets of Lagos she left behind just over a year ago. “I miss home,” she says softly, “but I couldn’t see a future there.”
Temi is part of what many now call the Japa Generation — a wave of young, educated Nigerians leaving the country in search of better opportunities abroad. Japa, a Yoruba word meaning “to flee” or “run away”, has become shorthand for what feels like a national exodus.
According to data from the Nigerian Immigration Service and foreign embassies, there has been a sharp rise in migration over the last five years, particularly among professionals under 35. Doctors, engineers, IT experts, academics, and creatives are packing their bags — not for holidays, but for new lives in Canada, the UK, the US, and even countries as far-flung as Lithuania and the UAE.
“I Just Wanted to Breathe”
For Ayo Bello, a software developer now living in Toronto, the decision to leave was not taken lightly. “I had a good job in Lagos, but it felt like I was stuck. No light, no steady internet, bad roads, and the pressure to support family with no real safety net. I just wanted to breathe,” he says.
His story echoes that of thousands. Poor infrastructure, rising insecurity, a struggling economy, and limited job growth have created a sense of hopelessness. In 2022, a NOIPolls survey showed that 7 in 10 Nigerians would leave the country if given the chance.
“I’m Still Trying to Leave”
While many have already left, others are still navigating the long and often frustrating process of emigration.
Chinaza Okeke, a pharmacist in Enugu, is one of them. For the past year, she has been preparing for her licensing exams to move to the UK. “Every night I read after work. I’ve spent almost all my savings on application fees, IELTS, and agency costs,” she says. “But it’s worth it if I can get out.”
She says watching friends succeed abroad keeps her motivated. “It’s hard when you see people who were on your level now thriving in better systems. It’s not jealousy. It’s just… painful hope.”
But it’s not always rosy on the other side. Many migrants face culture shock, loneliness, and the pressure of supporting family back home. Still, the overwhelming belief is: it’s better than staying.
“I Choose to Stay”
Yet, not everyone wants to run. For Tolu Ogunlade, a young architect in Ibadan, staying in Nigeria is a deliberate decision — not one forced by circumstance.
“I understand why people are leaving. Things are hard,” he admits. “But I want to be part of the solution. If everyone leaves, who’s going to fix this place?”
Tolu co-founded a small design studio focused on sustainable building practices. It’s tough — power cuts and inconsistent client payments — but he believes change is possible.
He isn’t alone. Across Nigeria, a growing number of young people are choosing to stay, build businesses, and advocate for change. They form a quiet but determined minority — optimistic, grounded, and often idealistic.
The Bigger Picture
Experts warn that while migration is not inherently bad, the scale of the current trend could lead to a brain drain that will hurt Nigeria’s future.
“When your best minds are leaving in bulk, especially in sectors like healthcare and technology, it becomes a national crisis,” says Dr. Halima Yusuf, a demographer based in Abuja. “The government needs to urgently invest in young people, or this generation will become known not just for fleeing, but for giving up.”
Still, for many young Nigerians, the question remains: Should I stay and hope, or leave and live?
It’s a dilemma that speaks not only to personal ambition but to the heart of what it means to believe in a country that too often feels like it has let its youth down.
As Temi prepares to catch the train to work, she pauses. “If things ever change, I’d love to go back. Nigeria is home. But for now, I’m just trying to survive.”
