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Life has a way of flipping the script. One moment, you’re living comfortably in your own apartment, driving your car to work, and planning the future you’ve dreamt of. The next, you find yourself in a foreign land, sleeping on benches at bus stations, wondering how everything unraveled so quickly.
That’s the reality of *Nneoma (29)**, a Nigerian who once had stability, comfort, and a clear vision for her life in Enugu. She worked as a marketing manager at a real estate company, drove her own car, and lived in a two-bedroom apartment. She was saving up to open a school, her long-time passion, but she later decided to use that money to pursue a Master’s degree abroad.
Her plan was simple: study, work for a few years in the UK, then return home with enough savings to establish the school. She didn’t get a scholarship—she paid all her tuition and travel expenses herself. Initially, she wanted Denmark, but a friend, Betty, convinced her the UK was cheaper and promised to house her for three months until she found her footing. That promise gave her the courage to leave Nigeria in 2023.
When she arrived, Betty welcomed her warmly. But within a week, everything changed. Betty revealed she was married—something Nneoma never knew—and that her husband would be joining her in two weeks. Suddenly, Nneoma no longer felt welcome. Betty didn’t throw her out directly, but her attitude made it clear she had to leave.
Stranded, Nneoma reached out to family and friends. Her father, who never supported her decision to travel, offered no help. But her mother and a friend in Nigeria each sent her ₦300,000, which she used to rent an apartment near her school. The problem? Her new apartment was in a different city from the jobs she had already applied for using Betty’s postcode.
She soon got a job as a domiciliary carer—visiting patients in their homes rather than working in a care facility—and later added a night shift job as a mail sorter. But juggling between two cities was exhausting. She spent weekdays in her school apartment, then every Thursday morning, after lectures, she made the long trip to her work city. By 2 p.m., she started her care shifts, ending by 9 p.m., then dashed to the sorting job at 10 p.m., working till 6 a.m. She barely had time to wash up in bus station restrooms before resuming another care shift at 7 a.m.
On nights she didn’t have the sorting shift, she had nowhere to sleep. So, like many others, she resorted to the bus station benches. But the station closed at midnight, forcing them to move to an open space where tents were set up. That became her reality: chasing buses, working multiple jobs, and sleeping outdoors.
Even when she found temporary shelter, the experience was bitter. Through other Nigerians, she met Kola, who lived 25 minutes from her work. He offered her a place to stay—but after just two days, he pressured her for sex, saying she owed him for his “kindness.” When she refused, he threw her out in the middle of the night. She had no choice but to sleep outside in the snow.
Amid this, her relationship with her boyfriend, Peter, also crumbled. Back in Nigeria, they had serious plans for the future. He even wanted to move with her to the UK, but his visa was denied. From the day she landed, his attitude shifted—he accused her of being proud because she missed a call while in the shower. As she struggled with Betty’s coldness and Kola’s harassment, Peter grew increasingly hostile, transferring his frustration to her.
Even when she fell sick and was hospitalised due to her asthma, Peter didn’t call, despite her mother pleading with him. At her lowest point, she told her mum to let him know she would kill herself if he didn’t reach out—yet he still didn’t call.
For months, she slept outside, hinted to him about her struggles, even mentioned how men were exploiting her vulnerability, but Peter offered no real help. Once, he promised money for an Airbnb but never sent it. Then, after three months of silence, he resurfaced—this time with a visa.
When he finally arrived in the UK, he apologised and offered to get them an apartment. But by then, she was done. She told him plainly that she preferred to sleep in her tent than wait for his help. They broke up. Within three months, he returned to Nigeria, saying the UK wasn’t for him.
Looking back, the contrast is stark. In Nigeria, she had stability: a car, an apartment, a good job, and her support system. In the UK, she found herself sleeping in the cold, chasing buses, juggling two jobs, and enduring betrayal and heartbreak.
Still, Nneoma believes her life in the UK is better now. The struggles have reshaped her perspective and given her resilience she never imagined she had.
Her story is a reminder: the abroad life isn’t always what it seems. Behind the Instagram pictures and success stories are people sleeping on benches, fighting silent battles, and enduring hardships unimaginable to those back home.
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