Japa-Syndrome: When Nigeria’s Best And Brightest Look Beyond Her

…Can Nigeria create enough opportunities to make staying home attractive again?

By Christie Doyin

For more than a decade, a quiet but increasingly powerful movement has been reshaping the Nigerian society.

It is called “Japa.”
Originally a Yoruba expression meaning “to run away” or “to flee”, the word has become part of Nigeria’s everyday vocabulary, particularly among young people who dream of leaving the country in search of better opportunities, improved living conditions and a more secure future.

From Nigeria to the United States to Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia and several European countries, thousands of Nigerians have left, or are preparing to leave their homeland.

For many, it is not necessarily because they hate Nigeria. Quite the contrary.
Some leave because they believe they have exhausted every available opportunity at home.

They leave because years of searching for employment have yielded little or nothing. They leave because salaries are often unable to keep pace with the rising cost of living. They leave because of concerns about insecurity, inadequate healthcare, poor infrastructure, unreliable electricity, limited opportunities for professional growth and what many perceive as a system in which connections sometimes matter more than competence.

And so, the question is not simply: “Why are Nigerians leaving?”
The more important question should be: “What have we done, or failed to do, to make them want to stay?”

The Japa syndrome is a phenomenon that did not begin yesterday. The Japa syndrome did not begin with the present administration, nor can it reasonably be blamed on one president, one political party or one government.

The factors responsible have accumulated over many years and across successive administrations.

Nigeria has experienced military and civilian governments, different political parties and numerous economic policies.

Yet the fundamental challenges confronting ordinary citizens have remained remarkably persistent.

This is why the _Japa_ phenomenon should be viewed as a national wake-up call rather than merely a political talking point.
Young Nigerians are leaving because they are looking for something many believe they cannot find at home: and that is talking of opportunity.

And opportunity is not necessarily a handout. It is the opportunity to work, build a business, acquire skills, access quality healthcare, raise a family in a reasonably secure environment, obtain a good education and have confidence that hard work can translate into a better standard of living.

Perhaps one of the most disturbing aspects of the Japa phenomenon is the enormous sacrifice some people make to leave.
Families have sold houses, cars, land and businesses. Some have emptied their savings. Parents have borrowed heavily to finance the journeys of their children. Young people have abandoned promising careers or businesses because they believe their future lies elsewhere.

For some families, the departure of a son or daughter is accompanied by excitement and anxiety in equal measure.
There is the hope that the person will succeed abroad, secure a good job and eventually help those left behind.
But there is also the fear of loneliness, uncertainty, exploitation and the possibility that the much-advertised greener pasture may not be as green as imagined.
Life abroad comes with its own realities.
Housing is expensive. Taxes are high. Jobs can be demanding. Migrants may have to begin their professional journeys again, sometimes accepting jobs far below their qualifications.

Many endure loneliness, cultural adjustment and the pressure of supporting relatives back home.

Yet, despite these difficulties, many Nigerians still believe the opportunities available abroad outweigh the challenges.
That, in itself, should concern us.
What happens when a nation loses its young people?

There is nothing inherently wrong with travelling abroad.
Nigerians have always travelled, studied and worked in other countries. The Nigerian diaspora has also contributed immensely to the country’s development through remittances, investments, professional expertise and philanthropy.

The problem arises when migration becomes the preferred, or seemingly only, route to a decent life.

When a young doctor, engineer, teacher, lawyer, entrepreneur, technician or skilled artisan begins to believe that his or her future can only be secured outside Nigeria, the country loses more than one individual.
It loses years of education and training.
It loses productivity.
It loses innovation.
It loses potential entrepreneurs and employers.

It loses future community leaders.
And, perhaps most importantly, it loses confidence in itself.

A nation cannot sustainably develop when a significant proportion of its most energetic and ambitious citizens are constantly looking for the nearest exit.

But Nigeria is not empty-handed
This is where the conversation must change.
Nigeria is not a country without resources.
We are blessed with enormous human capital and abundant natural resources. We have fertile land, oil and gas, solid minerals, a huge consumer market, creative industries, technology entrepreneurs, professionals across virtually every discipline and a youthful population capable of driving transformation.

What appears to be missing is not potential.
It is the ability to convert potential into opportunity.

We must therefore ask ourselves why a country with such enormous resources struggles to provide enough jobs and basic amenities for its people.

Why should a graduate spend years searching for employment?
Why should young entrepreneurs struggle to access affordable financing, electricity, infrastructure and markets?

Why should qualified professionals feel compelled to leave because they believe their expertise is better appreciated elsewhere?

Why should access to opportunity sometimes depend on who one knows rather than what one knows?

These are difficult questions, but Nigeria must confront them honestly.
The burden of leadership/Government has a particularly important role to play.

Successive administrations may have inherited difficult circumstances, and no single president can be blamed for every problem Nigeria has experienced.
But leadership must ultimately be judged by what it does with the circumstances it inherits.

The responsibility of government is to create an environment where businesses can thrive, investors can invest, workers can earn decent livelihoods and young people can see a future for themselves.

That means tackling insecurity, improving electricity supply, strengthening infrastructure, reforming education and healthcare, supporting agriculture and manufacturing, promoting entrepreneurship and making the public service more efficient.

It also means building institutions where merit is respected.

One of the complaints frequently heard from young Nigerians is that opportunities are sometimes distributed through connections rather than competence.

There have been situations in which people remain in positions long after they ought to have retired, while their children or protégés are subsequently positioned in strategic roles, even where questions about qualifications or experience arise.
Such practices do more than deny qualified Nigerians of opportunities.
They destroy hope.

A young person who repeatedly sees competence ignored in favour of connections may eventually conclude that the only way to succeed is to leave.

However, it would be unfair to place the entire responsibility on various governments.

Nigeria’s problems are also partly a reflection of our collective behaviour.
Citizens who evade taxes, sabotage public facilities, engage in corruption, inflate prices unfairly, manipulate opportunities, demand gratification for ordinary responsibilities or deliberately frustrate businesses are also contributing to the problem.

Those who steal public resources, undermine institutions or deliberately prevent others from succeeding are equally part of the Japa story. Even those who fleece money off your because they are in positions to handle your entitlements.

A country cannot be rebuilt by any government alone.
Citizens must also decide what kind of country they want to create.
Can Tinubu reverse the trend?
The administration of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu inherited a difficult economic environment and has embarked on major reforms aimed at restructuring the Nigerian economy.

The removal of fuel subsidy, foreign exchange reforms and other economic measures have generated considerable hardship and debate. The long-term success of such reforms will ultimately be judged by whether they translate into improved productivity, investment, jobs and living standards.

That is where the real test lies.
Nigerians do not merely want economic statistics.
They want to feel the economy in their homes.
They want jobs.
They want affordable and accessible healthcare.
They want quality education.
They want reliable electricity.
They want safer communities.
They want businesses that can survive.
They want an economy in which hard work provides a reasonable pathway to dignity and prosperity.

If the current reforms can eventually produce these outcomes, then they could help restore confidence among Nigerians, particularly the younger generation.
But goveurnment must communicate clearly, remain accountable and ensure that the burden of reform does not permanently fall on the most vulnerable.

Perhaps the most important lesson from the _Japa_ phenomenon is that patriotism cannot be demanded by speeches alone.
You cannot tell a young Nigerian to stay and build Nigeria while denying that young person a reasonable opportunity to build a life.

You cannot preach patriotism to a graduate who has spent years looking for employment.

You cannot ask an entrepreneur to remain in Nigeria while making it unnecessarily difficult to operate a business.

You cannot tell a professional to stay when basic conditions for professional growth are absent.
If we genuinely want Nigerians to stay, Nigeria must become a place worth staying in.

That requires deliberate investment in people, institutions and infrastructure.
It requires a merit-based system where qualification and competence matter.

It requires leaders who understand that public office is a responsibility, not a family inheritance.

It requires young Nigerians to also embrace entrepreneurship, skills acquisition, innovation and the courage to create opportunities rather than waiting indefinitely for government employment.

There is still hope
_Japa_ should not be interpreted as the death of Nigeria’s dreams.

Rather, it should be treated as a warning.
It is a warning that millions of Nigerians are asking whether their country can provide them with the future they desire.
The answer should be yes.
But that answer must be demonstrated, not merely spoken.

Nigeria must create an environment where a young graduate can say, “I can make it here.”

Where an entrepreneur can say, “I can build my business here.”

Where a doctor, engineer, teacher, journalist, artisan, farmer or technology professional can say, “My skills have value here.”

Where parents can confidently encourage their children to build their futures at home.
And where travelling abroad becomes a choice for exploration, education and global engagement, not an escape from economic hopelessness.

The responsibility belongs to all of us.
But goveurnment must lead. Leaders must provide direction and accountability. Institutions must reward merit. Businesses must create opportunities. Citizens must play their part.

Nigeria has the people.
Nigeria has the resources.
Nigeria has the creativity.
Nigeria has the potential.

What Nigeria needs now is the collective will to turn that potential into prosperity.
Perhaps then, the day will come when the question is no longer “How do I Japa?”
But rather:

“How do we build Nigeria so that nobody feels compelled to Japa?”

That is the Nigeria worth fighting for.
That is the Nigeria worth building.
And that Nigeria is still possible if and only if we are all determined.

Christie Doyin is a veteran journalist, who writes from Kwara State Capital, Ilorin