In Yoruba folklore, the saying “Eni tí ó lè ṣe Alábàárù l’Òyìngbò, kò lè ṣe bí Adegboro l’Òja-Ọba” carries a lesson as relevant today as it was generations ago. It loosely translates to: “Someone who cannot carry loads in Òyìngbò market cannot become like Adegboro in Ojà-Ọba.” The proverb celebrates resilience, vision, and the discipline to rise from humble beginnings to prominence. Adegboro’s story begins in Ìbàdàn, where, faced with limited opportunities, he journeyed to Lagos in search of a better life. In the bustling chaos of Òyìngbò Market, he found work as a humble head porter, hauling heavy loads for traders and shoppers. Though the work was grueling, he saved every kobo he could, eventually acquiring a cart to ease his burden and multiply his earnings. Instead of succumbing to the comfort his progress afforded, Adegboro continued to work hard, reinvesting his income until he had transformed his life completely. His rise became a parable for ambition anchored in persistence.
Today, in the era of “Japa”—a slang term for mass emigration—Adegboro’s lesson feels more urgent than ever. Across Nigeria, millions of citizens dream of leaving the country in search of greener pastures abroad. Recent surveys paint a stark picture: a 2024 Afrobarometer report revealed that 56 percent of Nigerians have considered emigrating, an increase of more than 20 percentage points since 2017. A 2023 NOIPolls study found that 63 percent of adults are willing to relocate abroad, with the figure rising to 73 percent among the youth aged 18 to 35. The main motivations are economic hardship, unemployment, better education, and a search for security.
The migration wave has taken a heavy toll on critical sectors, particularly healthcare and technology. Thousands of Nigerian doctors now practice abroad, leaving domestic hospitals short-staffed. The tech industry is also feeling the pinch as skilled professionals depart for foreign opportunities. While some find success overseas, others face harsher realities than anticipated. High living costs, cultural isolation, and systemic discrimination leave many migrants disillusioned.
For those unable to secure legal migration pathways, the quest for a better life can take dangerous turns. Some risk perilous desert crossings to reach North Africa or attempt hazardous boat journeys to Europe. The story of Usman Kabir, who sold his family land to fund a journey through the Sahara only to end up stranded, is one among many tragic cautionary tales. The desperation fueling this wave has also created fertile ground for scammers who prey on vulnerable Nigerians with promises of non-existent jobs, scholarships, or visas.
Even for those who succeed in leaving, the promise of a better life often proves more complicated than the dream. Judith Okoli, a nurse who moved to the United States, discovered that while her income improved, the loneliness and sense of alienation took a toll on her mental health. Similar experiences have led to an increasing number of returnees. Between 2017 and 2020, around 16,800 Nigerians came back home after finding life abroad less fulfilling than expected. Some returned by necessity, others by choice, drawn back by family ties or new opportunities in Nigeria’s growing fintech, entertainment, and real estate sectors.
In many ways, these returnees embody the spirit of Adegboro. They have endured hardship, learned new skills, and are now applying their experiences to build a life at home. Like the young porter in Òyìngbò, they understand that resilience, not geography, is the true measure of success. The Japa era has shown that while migration can open doors, it is not a guaranteed path to prosperity. For every Nigerian who finds greener pastures abroad, there are others who learn that the grass is not always greener on the other side.
Adegboro’s journey reminds us that progress is often a product of endurance, discipline, and the courage to start from where you are. In a time when the impulse is to flee at the first sign of hardship, his legacy challenges Nigerians to rethink what it means to seek a better life—whether at home or abroad. The moral endures: it is not where you begin, nor even where you go, but how you build, persist, and grow that determines the true harvest of your labour.
