I didn’t realize how much I missed “our people” until I entered a hall and heard Nigerian laughter. The kind of laughter that carries gist inside it. The kind that doesn’t need translation.
At my first Nigerian community event abroad, the food wasn’t perfect, but it was familiar. The music wasn’t loud enough, but it was ours. People greeted like they knew you, even if they didn’t. I felt my shoulders drop.
Then the conversations started: who is hiring, who just got papers, who is dating who, who is tired. It was funny and heavy at the same time. Everyone was building a life, but everyone was also carrying a secret struggle.
What surprised me most was the generosity. Someone offered me a winter jacket. Another person shared a job link. Another warned me about a landlord scam.
That day, I learned a migration truth: you can survive alone, but you’ll heal faster in community.
Since then, I’ve stopped acting too “independent.” I show up. I contribute. I share what I know. Because abroad can make you individualistic, but Nigerians—by nature—are built for networks.
