The queues at Nigerian international airports tell a story that Nigerians have grown increasingly weary of. Between 2020 and 2025, it seems every week brings another farewell: families quietly sobbing at departure gates, friends gathered for yet another send-off party, their conversations punctuated by nervous laughter and heavy sighs that betray the dawning realisation that this may be the last gathering of its kind. Neighbours sell off furniture in hurried sales before boarding flights to Toronto, London, Sydney, or Dubai.
Then follows a social media post of the now-famous “Japa” meme from the Nollywood film King of Boys, where Eniola Salami (played by Sola Sobowale) raises a glass with a knowing smile beneath the caption: “Welcome to a new dispensation.” The word “Japa,” a Yoruba term meaning “to flee” or “to run away,” has become the defining term for the average Nigerian’s migration dreams.
Nigeria consistently ranks among the top ten countries with the highest desire to migrate. A Gallup poll shows nearly half the population would leave if they could, while LEAP Africa’s Japa Report found 71% are actively considering relocation and 85% would move abroad given the chance. Traavu Global, founded by Blaise Aboh, reflects this demand: nearly 20,000 people have taken its global talent visa assessment since launch, though only 3% qualified. The numbers highlight the scale of migration aspirations among skilled Nigerians.
What began as a trickle in 2020 has transformed into something far more substantial: a silent migration that has fundamentally altered the landscape of Nigerian talent and industries. A PwC report revealed that as many as 31% of firms in Nigeria have been significantly affected by this exodus, facing a cut in their supply chain workforce and a significant talent gap.
The central question that must be asked, then, is not if this migration is happening, but what the multi-dimensional impacts of this drain are. What challenges are left behind, and what unexpected opportunities might be emerging from them? This story seeks to explore that question through the experiences of Nigerian tech innovators who have left, those who have remained, and the institutions caught in the middle of this shift.
The exodus – Understanding the scale and drivers
The COVID-19 catalyst
In early 2020, nearly everything shifted. The pandemic exposed the fragility of systems, making long-standing weaknesses glaringly visible. However, this exposure also opened up new possibilities, primarily remote work. Technology companies across Africa, North America, and Europe, suddenly forced to embrace remote work, began to realise that talent didn’t need to be geographically proximate to be effective.
But the newfound economic mobility that remote work provided also intensified youths’ frustration with systemic issues at home. Later that year, Nigerians embarked on a peaceful protest to disband a notorious police unit called the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), famous for harassment, extortion, and assault. For many young Nigerians, the protests symbolised a rare chance for change through collective action. But when violence erupted, especially after the October 20 Lekki Toll Gate tragedy, many felt a line had been irreversibly crossed.
Among those who participated in or witnessed the EndSARS protests, many interviewees pointed to October 2020 as the moment when their relationship with Nigeria fundamentally shifted. Joyce Imiegha, founder of Reneé PR and now a communications manager at a UK-based company, had long harboured dreams of pursuing a master’s degree in psychology abroad. But the outcome of the EndSARS protests transformed that distant aspiration into an urgent necessity. Imiegha was actively involved in the protests, visible enough to be interviewed by CNN. That visibility, however, came with consequences.
“My father became genuinely fearful for my safety because many protesters were getting arrested,” she recalls. But it wasn’t only fear that accelerated her migration timeline—it was the compound frustration of watching friends relocate throughout 2021 whilst she continued to navigate Nigeria’s increasingly inadequate infrastructure.
The months following the protests coincided with the gradual reopening of international borders and the emergence of new visa programmes designed to attract global talent. Countries like Canada, with its Express Entry system, and the United Kingdom, with its Global Talent Visa Programme, became increasingly attractive to Nigerians.
By early 2022, many early migrants had settled abroad, and their stories of reliable electricity, working healthcare, and responsive governments stood in sharp contrast to the struggles their friends back home continued to endure.
The personal calculus – Decisions and trade-offs
Push factors
The mathematics of frustration is easier to quantify than one might expect. Between 2015 and 2023, Nigeria’s National Grid — the backbone of the country’s electricity supply — collapsed approximately 93 times. Each collapse meant that an already unreliable power system was plunged into complete darkness, leaving residents with no option but to rely on the country’s most common alternative source of electricity: generators.
Despite the deafening noise and the steep cost of fuel, residents have little choice as generators provide power when the grid fails. Charging mobile devices, laptops, power banks, and in some homes, even powering pumping machines to keep water flowing through taps.
One such resident was Habib Wasulu, a product manager and founder of Smileys Africa. “My apartment was upstairs, and every time the power went out, I had to go downstairs to switch on the generator, then back again to turn it off when electricity was restored. On top of that, I couldn’t stand the loud noise those generators made,” he said, when asked for some of the reasons why he decided to relocate.
Nigeria also deals with economic challenges. Due to the rising cost of living, many professionals work multiple jobs, while others run businesses alongside their primary employment, leading to a surge in micro and small businesses across the nation. This has earned the term “side hustle”; however, it also means that for many professionals, work-life balance is rare, or in some cases, nonexistent.
As Oyinlola Akindele, a marketing operations manager, puts it: “If you’re not part of the top 1%, affording even simple comforts like a vacation feels almost impossible. Everyone is scrambling to break into that small circle, and work-life balance just isn’t realistic because you’re constantly thinking about how to start a business or find another source of income. After a while, career options start to feel narrow, which is why you see so many people turning to foreign companies once they’ve exhausted the opportunities in Nigeria.”
This inability to outwork the nation’s economic downturn continues to drive many Nigerians to “japa”—a move widely regarded as the beginning of a new dispensation.
Pull factors
This nationwide migration is not just a flight from the country’s harsh realities, but a pursuit of the possibility of a better life for those moving abroad, and in some cases, for the families they leave behind. In its 2024 annual report, the International Organisation for Migration estimated Nigeria’s diaspora at about 17 million people, spread across the globe, with Europe and North America hosting the largest numbers.
According to a 2023 study on Nigerian migration, the pull factors driving Nigerians to these regions can be classified into political, economic, and socio-cultural categories, ranging from poor economic conditions and unemployment to insecurity and the pursuit of greener pastures.
On these measures, the contrast with Nigeria is striking. Canada ranks 14th on the Global Peace Index, the UK 30th, and the US 128th. Inflation is projected at 3.2% in the UK for 2025, 2.6% in the US as of July 2025, and 1.7% in Canada. Life expectancy is at 82.7 years in Canada, 81.5 in the UK, and 79.5 in the US.
In Nigeria, the figures tell a different story—an inflation rate of 21.88%, a Global Peace Index ranking of 148, and an average life expectancy of just 54.6 years.
Beyond statistics, these figures reveal the struggle to keep up with rapidly rising prices, the constant shadow of insecurity, and the cumulative impact of social and economic pressures that shorten lives and limit opportunities. It is in this contrast that the powerful pull of migration becomes clear. These figures translate into choices about safety, education, and career advancement, quality healthcare, and the hope of a better life.
When asked how relocating has impacted her life and career growth, Princess Akari, a product manager, said, “The moment you change your location, you automatically become more attractive to recruiters, there is constant electricity, and life is just way better, and when you send money back home, it goes a long way, especially due to the exchange rate.”
For others, relocating means being able to dream bigger—to step into environments where stability, infrastructure, and global networks open doors to possibilities that feel out of reach at home. “I keep discovering new ways for me to grow. I feel like the options here are limitless, there are so many possibilities, and I have a good work-life balance.” Oyinlola Akindele responded to the benefits of relocation on her career growth.
Victor Adeleye, founder of Hackthejobs, said, “Relocating has helped me to see things from a global perspective. When I think about solving problems, I’m thinking about solutions that are scalable globally because I am now better positioned for bigger things.”
While the benefits are undeniable, migration, like every other choice, comes with two sides to the coin.
What gets left behind?
The trade-offs that accompany migration are often deeply personal. Family members spread across continents now rely on video calls and online chats, carefully planned around time zones, to bridge the distance that physical presence once filled. Birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries are now often celebrated virtually because, with the high cost of flight tickets, many cannot afford to visit home regularly.
Over time, this distance can strain relationships and result in cultural disconnection, often seen in second-generation migrants who grow up unable to speak their mother tongue or with very limited knowledge of their parents’ homeland.
Migration also means losing the safety net and communal support of family and friends. In an attempt to achieve a better life, many are forced to rebuild networks from scratch in an unfamiliar environment.
But beyond the emotional and intangible costs, there are measurable losses. One of these is the loss of the country’s human capital. As Nigerians, it’s not just our loud, boisterous energy that stands out, but also our resilience, hard work, and competitive spirit—qualities that set us apart wherever we go. These are the very qualities that migrants carry with them, enriching different industries in their host countries, while leaving a gap back home.
The ripple effects – Impact on Nigerian ecosystem
Across organisations and HR departments, the “Japa wave” has reshaped teams and forced companies to rethink how they attract and retain talent.
In 2024, Felix Bissong, an HR professional, lost twelve employees in one swoop. It was unlike anything he had ever seen in his six years working across the Nigerian tech ecosystem. “Losing so many talents to japa was sad, but there was nothing I could do about it. People are looking for flexibility, economic stability and chasing their career goals,” he said.
Moses Joel, with his decade of HR experience, tells a similar story. “When they receive foreign offers, especially those that include relocation support and significantly higher salaries, it’s nearly impossible to convince talents to stay,” he explains.
Companies are experimenting with creative retention strategies, though their success remains limited. While some offer Employee Stock Option Plans (ESOPs) or remote work flexibility, others conduct quarterly salary reviews to stay competitive.
Emmanuel Faith, another HR professional, mentions that some companies allow employees to work remotely for several months whilst maintaining their home-country salary—essentially buying time for knowledge transfer before inevitable departures.
The most pragmatic approach involves accepting reality rather than fighting it. “I’ve never tried to convince anyone to stay,” Faith admits. “In fact, I encourage them to leave if they get good opportunities. But I ask them to consider staying connected to the company remotely.” However, the fundamental constraint remains: local companies operating in naira cannot compete with international offers that present better opportunities to Nigerian professionals.
Diaspora still plugged in
While the departure of skilled professionals continues to reshape Nigeria’s workforce, the story is not one of loss alone. Many of those who leave remain tethered to the country’s tech ecosystem, finding ways to contribute knowledge and capital from afar. In fact, this “silent migration” has created a new class of diaspora professionals who are physically abroad but remain emotionally and economically invested in Nigeria’s growth.
Blaise Aboh believes this is one of the overlooked benefits of brain drain. “Many who have migrated are breadwinners with family obligations, and they pay ‘black tax’—a form of giving back that also fuels investment at home,” he explains. For Blaise, who belongs to a diaspora group of over 500 Nigerian global talent visa recipients in the UK, remittances are more than just family support. He attributes the surge in migration since 2020 as one reason why cross-border payment fintechs have gained traction in Nigeria. And the contributions don’t stop there; many migrants are establishing development shops abroad, hiring talent back home, and investing in local real estate, he said.
For others, such as Peace Itimi, relocation has not meant disconnection from the ecosystem. From her base in the UK, she continues to run Founders Connect, a storytelling platform spotlighting African tech leaders. Organising events remotely comes with its fair share of challenges—logistics, the “unknown unknowns,” and ensuring resonance with local audiences—but for her, the work has always transcended geography. “We’re always finding new stories and even better ways to tell them. I don’t believe it is only about being present at the location,” she said. Through WhatsApp groups, video calls, and trusted partners on the ground, Peace has found ways to bridge the distance.
Similarly, Tobi Asu-Johnson, founder of Zap Africa, manages operations from London while making three to four trips to Nigeria each year. He explained that daily communication via WhatsApp and Slack helps keep the team closely connected. “Running the business from abroad has actually normalised frequent communication,” he said, noting that his accessibility has deepened trust and strengthened team culture.
In the words of Habib Wasulu, “The strength of a company is its people. While my physical presence would enable us to achieve even more, we have put structures in place to ensure operations run smoothly—though it’s not without its challenges.”
This digital setup challenges traditional notions of brain drain. The talent leaves, but the expertise, capital, and networks remain accessible. The model works because technology makes it possible, and economic incentives make it necessary.
Founder and ex-CEO of Migo, Ekechi Nwokah, noted, “I can’t imagine going a single day without talking to my employees. I also make frequent visits because I need to understand the challenges they’re facing—whether it’s fuel scarcity, a faulty transformer, or other everyday problems unique to Nigeria.”
High earners abroad can invest in property, fund local startups, and sustain teams at favourable exchange rates. At the same time, their international exposure allows them to introduce global best practices into Nigerian companies.
Beyond founding and investing in startups back home, Nigerians in the diaspora also mentor young professionals in the country. For instance, Princess Akari runs People in Product, a product management community that offers support, resources, and mentorship. The community also organises physical hangouts, which she helps plan remotely.
Similarly, through Grazac, a tech innovation hub in Ogun State, and the Ogun Digital Summit, Victor Adeleye is supporting tech professionals in upskilling while driving the growth of Ogun State’s tech ecosystem. “From organising programmes to providing workspaces and supporting startups, I still play an active role in strengthening the ecosystem back home,” he noted.
Still, individual ingenuity has its limits. Diaspora professionals may build bridges back home, but they cannot resolve the very challenges that prompted them to leave. That responsibility rests with those who hold the power to address the root causes.
Policy, systems, and the way forward
There will always be those who choose to leave—whether to pursue education, advance their careers, or experience life in a new environment. The responsibility, however, rests with the Nigerian government to create the conditions that slow this mass exodus. At the very least, this means providing the basics such as reliable electricity, citizen safety, quality healthcare, functional schools, and stable inflation. Beyond improving the quality of life, these foundations signal to citizens that home is worth staying in.
The solution to Nigeria’s japa wave is not simply persuading people to remain; it lies in creating compelling reasons for those who have left to return—a trend popularly known as “reverse japa.” In this way, the loss of human capital through migration can become a cycle where talent leaves, grows, and eventually comes back to reinvest at home.
Victor Adeleye is one of those considering such a return. “I have plans to move back to Nigeria because I’m still invested in building the country’s tech ecosystem. Those of us who have left can learn from other systems, gain global perspectives, and then return to use that knowledge to build at home,” he explained.
Yet passion alone cannot build lasting systems. It requires structure, stability, and opportunity—fundamentals that only government can guarantee. No citizen, no matter how determined, can outwork a failing economy, rising insecurity, or the absence of basic infrastructure.
Nigeria now stands at a crossroads: invest in reliable infrastructure, ensure safety, and create economic stability, and emigrants may return, while fewer choose to leave. Ignore these fundamentals, and today’s steady trickle overseas will become an unstoppable flood. The talent will thrive regardless. The real question is: which country will benefit from their success?
About the authors
This piece was put together by Olaitan Kenny and Ogechi Nelson, storytellers at Reneé PR.
