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Dayo* was living what many would call the Nigerian dream — a ₦50 million-a-year job in oil and gas, financial comfort, and professional prestige. But in 2023, at 34, he decided to walk away from it all to pursue a master’s degree in the United States. The decision changed his life completely, forcing him to confront loneliness, race, mental health, and the uncertainty of starting over in a new country.
He says he wasn’t running away from hardship, but from boredom. “I wanted to get a taste of life outside Nigeria,” he recalls. “I was getting bored with my job, even though it was a dream job for many people. I also wanted to earn in a different currency.”
His family and friends supported his decision, but things got awkward at work. “My bosses started acting funny. They stopped involving me in important projects. I guess they considered me a flight risk,” he laughs. Despite the tension, he packed his bags for the US, ready to start again.
“I Had to Talk to a Therapist”
Unlike many of his peers who moved to the UK, Dayo was drawn to the US for its universities. But settling down was harder than he imagined. “The first few months were rough. There aren’t a lot of Black people where I live, and it felt like I uprooted my entire life. Nobody knew me. I had no friends. I eventually had to talk to a therapist just to process everything.”Therapy was new to him, but it helped. “I realised I needed to cut myself some slack. I made a big move. I should breathe and give myself time to adapt,” he says. “It helped me see things clearly.”
He stopped going eventually, worried about becoming too dependent on it, but he credits therapy for helping him navigate those early months. “People talk about mental health a lot these days, but I didn’t understand how real it was until I moved here.”
A year later, things are easier. “I have a few friends now, people I can be myself around,” he says. Most of them are Africans, not Nigerians. “There aren’t many Nigerians where I live, but people who look like you — you just connect with them. I can share my thoughts with them without fear of judgment.”
For Dayo, moving abroad in his thirties was very different from being an undergraduate migrant. “People who come here in their twenties are still flexible. They’re forming their worldview. When you come in your thirties, you already know who you are — and that makes it harder to adjust.”
Career, Purpose, and Pride
Dayo isn’t working at the moment. He says he wants a job that builds on his career in oil and gas, not just something that pays bills. “I respect people who do hospitality or care work, but I can’t do that now. I’ve done that kind of work before. At this stage, I only want a role that adds to my professional experience — maybe a research assistant job or something in my field.”The challenge, however, is finding that opportunity. “In Nigeria, I was always among the top two percent of applicants. Here, everyone is brilliant. It’s humbling.”
That humility extends beyond the job market. “I was never really aware of being Black until I got here,” he admits. “Back home, I didn’t have to speak in a certain way to be understood. Here, I have to adjust how I talk.”
Though he hasn’t faced open racism, there have been uncomfortable moments. “A classmate once said I looked dangerous. She caught herself and apologised, but it stayed with me. I’m not intimidating, so I know that came from a stereotype.”
He’s also noticed how stark racial inequality is in the professional world. “When I apply for jobs, I check company websites. Most of the people at the top are white. I knew there were disparities here, but I didn’t expect it to be this big.”
The Shock of Starting from Scratch
The logistics of American life shocked him, too. “You can’t get anywhere without a car,” he says. “Back home, you can just hop on a keke or danfo. Here, if you don’t have a car, you’re paying for Uber — and it gets expensive quickly.”Then came winter — his loneliest experience yet. “My first winter was depressing. Everyone travelled, and I was alone in my dorm room. In Nigeria, there’s always community. Even if you don’t have money, someone will invite you for Christmas rice. I didn’t have that here. It was terrible.”
That isolation drove him to book a flight back home. “Visiting Nigeria was the best thing I did. It’s the only place where no one asks for your purpose of visit. It’s freeing. It’s home. It’s good for your mental health.”
He spent a week in Lagos and visited a few other African countries, returning to the US recharged. “The trip was expensive, but worth it. I’ll keep visiting as often as I can.”
Between Two Worlds
When asked what’s next, Dayo sighs. “There’s a lot of uncertainty. The job market is tight. Companies are cutting jobs because of AI. I could stay and work here, but I also have student loans to pay. Going back to Nigeria right now would make that hard.”Unlike many migrants, he’s not desperate for a second passport. “It’s good to have, but it’s not something I’m chasing. I’ve travelled widely with my Nigerian passport. Maybe I’m not the ‘average Nigerian,’ but it hasn’t really limited me.”
Still, he plans to return home eventually — after he’s paid off his loans and saved enough abroad. “I might need to work here or in Europe for a while, but Nigeria is where I’ll eventually settle.”
Love, Loneliness, and Regret
Dayo admits that the uncertainty of his new life affects his relationships. “I wish I had settled down before leaving. It would be nice to be doing this with someone,” he says.He’s currently talking to someone in Nigeria, but it’s complicated. “If I were still there, I could get married today and provide a decent life. But now, I don’t know where I’ll be in a few months. I’m not ready to relocate anyone or invest heavily unless they’re ready to move independently.”
He believes relationships survive best when couples relocate together. “If you’re already married and you japa together, it works. Otherwise, it’s hard.”
“It’s Been Humbling”
Two years in, Dayo describes his US experience as humbling and eye-opening. “I’ve gone from being a local champion to a small fish in a big pond. It’s been hard to adjust mentally,” he says. “I know I’m good at what I do, but here, there are many people who are just as good or better.”When asked if he regrets leaving Nigeria, he pauses. “I wouldn’t say I regret it, but it’s been a downgrade in lifestyle. My place here is smaller. I cook my own meals. I’m now thinking about student loans. I never had to worry about that in Nigeria. But I know it’s temporary.”
If he could rate his happiness, he says it’s a six out of ten. “If you’d asked me when I first got here, I’d say two. I was depressed. But now, I have a small community, and visiting home helped. It’s not higher because I still don’t know what comes next. I can’t predict my future anymore — and that’s new for me.”
He pauses, smiling faintly. “Maybe ask me again in a few years. Then I’ll know if all this was worth it.”
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