In late February, Nigeria held a presidential election that many citizens regard as flawed and illegitimate. The vote wasn’t expected to go smoothly, but accusations of vote-rigging were immediate. There were reports of people snatching ballot boxes and gunmen attacking polling stations. A new electronic voting system that aimed to make the election more transparent did not go according to plan; electoral staff at some locations failed to upload results, leading to further accusations of tampering.
In late February, Nigeria held a presidential election that many citizens regard as flawed and illegitimate. The vote wasn’t expected to go smoothly, but accusations of vote-rigging were immediate. There were reports of people snatching ballot boxes and gunmen attacking polling stations. A new electronic voting system that aimed to make the election more transparent did not go according to plan; electoral staff at some locations failed to upload results, leading to further accusations of tampering.
A week later, Nigerians woke up to the news that the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) had declared Bola Tinubu the winner. Tinubu had not technically passed the threshold for outright victory in the first round, as he did not achieve 25 percent of the vote in the Federal Capital Territory, which includes Abuja. Two candidates contested the results: former Vice President Atiku Abubakar and Peter Obi, who had defected from Abubakar’s party and picked up significant youth-led support ahead of the election. Obi ran on a promise to change the status quo.
After Tinubu’s victory, the word japa—which literally means to run, flee, or escape—trended on Twitter. A Yoruba word, japa has in the last few years become part of Nigeria’s slang lexicon as a shorthand for migration. “It’s time for me to japa” is now a common refrain, often in response to bad news. The word even appears in local headlines. Although the expression is often used playfully among friends, it signifies the serious dream of a better life beyond Nigeria. This duality reflects something unique about the Nigerian mindset: the ability to feel pain and a sense of loss—in the event of Tinubu winning, for example—as well as a nonchalant hopefulness about the future, simultaneously.
Last year, the country’s immigration service issued a record number of passports—1.9 million—in part reflecting an increasing number of citizens leaving for work or study. Emigrating isn’t possible for everyone, but the determination to reach greener pastures in Europe, the United States, or beyond often outweighs financial considerations. Nigerians who decide to leave may do whatever it takes to make it work. And when it doesn’t, threatening to japa serves a form of escapism: a reason to feel good about the future and a reason to persist.
Many young Nigerians first expressed their desire to japa in the wake of the #EndSARS protests in 2020. The movement took aim at police brutality, calling for the disbanding of the notorious Special Anti-Robbery Squad, or SARS, unit. Military forces cracked down with force against protesters, killing more than 100 people and injuring hundreds more. After the violence, some Nigerians felt that to japa was their only hope. In a 2021 survey of Nigerians by the Africa Polling Institute, 73 percent of respondents said they would seize the opportunity to move abroad with their families. That figure seems only likely to rise in the aftermath of this year’s presidential election.
Direct experience with police brutality was the final straw for Ademola Olaitan, a content creator who moved to the United Kingdom last year. In October 2021, while returning home from a photo shoot in Lagos, Olaitan was searched and detained by police officers. “I spent hours in the cell for literally doing nothing wrong,” he said, adding that the incident had traumatized him. Olaitan expressed that the situation in Nigeria had forced his hand. “I didn’t want to japa: My plans were to come here for vacation or maybe make money, but after that incident, it just forced me to,” he told Foreign Policy.
Nigeria has grappled with significant outward migration for decades, starting with an economic collapse in the 1980s. In the years that followed, the health care and agriculture sectors suffered, and unemployment skyrocketed, pushing people abroad for work. These trends have shaped today’s Nigeria, which now lurches toward another crisis. For the last eight years, under former President Muhammadu Buhari, corruption deepened despite his promises to fight it. And unemployment rose from 9.7 percent in 2014 to a projected 37 percent this year. For most Nigerians, the cost of living has become unbearable.
Ahead of the presidential election, many Nigerians expressed fears that their country’s democracy was on life support, and the vote was seen as a critical moment for its survival—a chance at better and more accountable governance. With Tinubu’s win, that hope crumbled. People expressed their anger on Twitter: “INEC Chairman Mahmood [Yakubu] stole our mandate,” one user wrote in the wake of the results. For some Nigerians, the outcome seemed to revive a desire to emigrate. “‘Dust your passports! It’s time to japa,’” another tweeted—tinged with a bit of irony—on March 1, the day the INEC declared Tinubu’s victory.
Aisha Abdullahi, a psychologist in Abuja, said the lack of steady electricity was her trigger. “If I ever japa, just know electricity drove me to [it]. Nothing else,” she said. “I’m ready to keep hustling and making my ends meet.” Abdullahi said her frustration stemmed from her expectation that a country such as Nigeria should be able to provide steady electricity and other basic services for its citizens. “Nigeria, especially the capital city, not having constant power supply creates a deep resentment inside me. It is a shameful hardship,” she said.
In recent years, the notion of japa has become a catalyst for community building, both for those who have left Nigeria and those who remain. On social media, Nigerians in different parts of the world have come together to talk about their experiences living far from home, recounting rejections they faced, how their visas were ultimately processed, and the hardships of leaving loved ones behind. Then there are the difficulties they share in adjusting to life post-japa, from bureaucracy to just how long it takes to settle into life in a new country. Nevertheless, these communities—mainly Twitter spaces—have inspired others who wish to emigrate.
The japa phenomenon is fueling brain drain in Nigeria, and this phenomenon is most evident within the country’s health care system. A report this year by the U.K. Nursing and Midwifery Council recorded a 280 percent increase in the number of Nigerian-trained nurses and midwives registered in the United Kingdom between 2018 and 2023. Many factors drove them to emigrate: poor work environment, low pay, and government disregard for their profession. But the result is fewer qualified health professionals in Nigeria, further weakening the sector.
In June, Obi addressed the “japa wave” on Twitter, arguing that such brain drain may eventually reap benefits for Nigeria. “Nigerians leaving the country may look like a loss today,” he wrote, “but when we start doing the right things and taking the governance of our nation more seriously, the knowledge and resources from them will be critical in the building of the New Nigeria, as it happened in China, India, Ireland and other developing countries.” For those thinking of leaving, the country’s opposition leader had just seemingly endorsed their decision.
To millions of Nigerians facing the prospect of Tinubu holding on to power for up to eight years, the country seems to be heading in a bad direction, one where they can’t quite envision a future for themselves. If the lines of people seeking to renew their passports are any indication, desperation to japa is deepening. For many people reeling from the results of a disputed election, battling for a better future abroad seems worth the risk—and gives them a glimmer of hope.
