Why Nigerians in the UK Say Japa Is Not Always as Sweet as Instagram Shows

A reel opens with London lights, soft music, and a neat plate of brunch. The caption says “God did”. Two swipes later, the same person is on a cold 5 am bus, eyes half open, lunch packed in a plastic container, hoodie pulled tight against the wind.

That gap is where a lot of Nigerians in the UK live.

“Japa” is simple: to leave Nigeria for greener pastures. The UK stays popular because of schools, work routes, family ties, and the idea of steady systems. But the real story is more mixed. Some people thrive, some struggle, and many feel both at once.

This is the honest middle: what feels hard, what feels worth it, and how to plan with clear eyes so you don’t arrive shocked.

Instagram shows the highlight reel, but UK daily life has real pressure

Social media isn’t lying, it’s just selective. It shows the “first paycheck” smile, not the first winter bill. It shows the new coat, not the overdraft alert. It shows the wedding guest outfit, not the shift swap you begged for to attend.

In the UK, life can be calm and safe, and still feel heavy. The pressure is often quiet. It’s the kind that sits in your chest while you wait for the train, or while you refresh your banking app, doing maths like a secondary school teacher.

Cost of living shock: rent, bills, transport, and tax can swallow your pay

Pounds look huge when you convert to naira. Then you start paying for basics, and the “big money” becomes small money very quickly.

Most newcomers notice it in this order:

Rent first: even outside London, rent can eat half your income. Many Nigerians start with house shares, sometimes sharing a room too, just to get stable.

Bills next: council tax surprises people. Heating costs are real in winter, and energy prices can make you ration the boiler like it’s generator fuel.

Transport and tax: commuting is expensive, and your payslip reminds you that tax and National Insurance come off before you even touch your salary.

A rough example (not perfect, but close enough to feel real):

That leftover can vanish fast. One dentist visit, one rent increase, one family emergency back home, and you’re back to zero.

So people cope. They pick up extra shifts, take overtime, work nights, and accept longer commutes. It’s not always misery, but it’s rarely the effortless “soft life” people assume from a 15-second clip.

Loneliness is quiet: cold weather, short days, and missing home hits hard

There’s a type of loneliness that comes from silence. No generator noise, no neighbour shouting, no “aunty good evening” as you pass. At first, it feels like peace. Later, it can feel like emptiness.

Winter is where many people get humbled. The days can be short and grey. If you leave home in the dark and return in the dark, it’s easy to feel like you live inside a fridge. Some people experience seasonal low mood (often called SAD, seasonal affective disorder) where energy drops, sleep changes, and everything feels slower.

Then there’s the ache of missing home, even when home stressed you out.

You miss weddings you can’t attend. You miss naming ceremonies you only watch through shaky WhatsApp video. You miss your mum’s food, the way your people “check on you” without booking a calendar slot. The time difference doesn’t help. When you finally rest after shift, Nigeria is wide awake.

Starting again can also feel like starting from zero. New accent around you, new rules, new train routes, and nobody to gist with at the end of a long day unless you build that circle yourself.

Work in the UK can humble you, even if you have a degree

A common shock isn’t that there are no jobs. It’s that the first jobs you can get quickly may not match your plan, your CV, or your pride.

Plenty of Nigerians arrive with degrees, experience, and sharp brains. The UK still may ask you to “prove yourself” all over again. That doesn’t mean you failed. It means the system loves familiar patterns.

“UK experience” and CV filters: why many start in care, warehouse, cleaning, or delivery

People joke about “UK experience”, but it can block real opportunities. Employers may want local references, a UK-style CV, and proof you understand workplace norms. Some roles also require recognised qualifications or licensing.

That’s why many start with survival jobs, often in:

• Care work
• Warehouses
• Cleaning
• Delivery and ride-hailing
• Hospitality back-of-house roles

These jobs are honest work. They keep rent paid and food in the fridge. They can also feel like a hard reset, especially when you used to be “manager” back home.

Night shifts are where the body pays the price. The money might be better, but sleep becomes a problem. Social life becomes a problem too. You start missing events because you’re either working or recovering.

Care work deserves a special mention because it’s a major entry route for migrants. It can be meaningful, but it can also be intense, with long hours, short staffing, and emotional strain. A recent trade union report captures how costly this can feel for migrant workers in the sector, even when they’re doing essential work (UNISON’s “Caring at a Cost” report).

The gap between what you studied and what you do can mess with your confidence. You’re earning pounds, yes, but you might also be grieving a version of yourself that felt respected.

Visa rules and sponsorship stress: when your job controls your peace of mind

For many Nigerians, the hardest part isn’t the work itself. It’s the feeling that your status can sit in someone else’s hands.

Sponsored work can come with pressure. If hours get cut, if the company changes, if you lose your role, your timeline can tighten fast. Even when your employer is kind, the structure can feel like a collar: you can breathe, but you can’t relax.

Between 2024 and 2026, the UK has tightened parts of its immigration approach, including changes that affect some student dependant routes and a stronger focus on reducing net migration. Rules also shift, and fees can rise, so “I heard” advice can become outdated quickly. Always check current guidance before you move, and don’t build your life plan on TikTok threads.

Many people only feel properly settled when they get Indefinite Leave to Remain. Until then, peace can feel conditional. That stress shows up in small ways: staying in a job you’ve outgrown, avoiding risk, and postponing big dreams because the paperwork clock is always ticking.

The parts people don’t post: bias, systems, and slow services

Even when you have work and a roof, there are frictions that wear people down. Not every day is dramatic. That’s the point. It’s the slow drip: a comment here, a form there, a long wait, a “computer says no”.

Racism and subtle bias: from housing to the workplace, it can wear you down

Some racism is loud. A shout on the street, a slur online, a nasty note. But many Nigerians talk more about the quiet type.

It can look like being ignored when you speak, then someone else repeats your point and gets praised. It can look like your name being “hard to pronounce” in a way that makes you feel like a problem. It can look like slower promotion, even when your results are clear.

Housing can bring its own stress. Landlords and agents often ask for proof of income, credit history, and references. If you’re new, you may have none, so you pay more upfront or accept a worse option. Some people also feel judged by accent, skin colour, or postcode.

This doesn’t hit everyone the same way. The UK is diverse, and many workplaces are fair. But enough people experience bias that it becomes part of the shared story. And it can affect mental health. Research in the UK has linked experiences of racial discrimination with poorer mental health outcomes (Centre on the Dynamics of Ethnicity, University of Manchester).

Bureaucracy and the NHS: forms, proof, waiting lists, and “try paracetamol” stories

The UK runs on paperwork. Not vibes.

You need proof of address to open some accounts. You need right-to-work checks for jobs. You need a National Insurance number, sometimes while you’re already applying for roles. If you want to rent, you might need payslips you don’t have yet. If you want credit, you need history, but you need credit to build history. It can feel like a polite maze.

Healthcare is another adjustment. The NHS is free at the point of use, and that matters, especially for emergencies. But it’s under heavy pressure, and waiting times can be long.

A common scenario: you wake up with a pain that won’t go. You call for a GP appointment and get offered a date two weeks away. You try a walk-in centre, it’s full. You end up in A&E, waiting for hours because your case isn’t life-threatening. When you finally see someone, you’re told to rest, hydrate, and take paracetamol, and you leave feeling unheard.

For Nigerians used to paying for faster private care (when it’s affordable), this can be frustrating. For nurses and health workers, it can also be sad, because they see how stretched the system is. Professional discussions around international staff and inclusion show up often in UK nursing spaces too, including forums like the RCN International Nursing Research Conference abstracts.

How to plan your UK Japa well, without killing your dream

Japa doesn’t have to be a horror story. But it should be a plan, not a mood.

A good plan won’t remove all stress. It will stop preventable mistakes. It will also protect your confidence when the first months feel rough.

Do real research, not social media research: budget, location, job path, and timeline

Social media research tells you what is possible. Real research tells you what is probable for someone like you.

Start with a simple checklist:

True rent ranges: don’t guess. Check multiple listings for the exact area, not just “London”.

Commute costs: rent is cheaper far out, but travel can punish you monthly.

Winter costs: proper coats, boots, and heating are not optional.

Emergency fund: aim for a buffer that can cover at least 2 to 3 months of basics if possible.

Reality of the first 6 to 12 months: this is often the hardest period, even for smart people.

Choose your city based on work options and support network, not aesthetics. “This place looks calm” isn’t a plan if there are no jobs in your field and you know nobody there.

Also, speak to people doing your exact route. Same visa type, same field, same family set-up. A friend in tech on a different visa can’t fully guide a nurse on sponsorship, and vice versa.

Protect your mental health and money: community, side plans, and honest expectations

If you’re alone, you need community on purpose. The UK won’t automatically plug you into people.

Small things that help:

Community spaces: Nigerian groups, student unions, faith centres, cultural meet-ups. Even one familiar face can change a week.

Winter routines: take daylight seriously. Walk when the sun is out. Keep your room warm enough. Don’t treat tiredness like laziness.

Ask for help early: if you’re struggling, speak up. Talk to your GP, or look for local support groups. Many people wait until they crash.

Money boundaries: people back home may think you’re swimming in pounds. Be honest. Don’t send yourself into debt to look successful.

Keep a plan B mindset too. Plan B doesn’t mean failure. It means you respect reality. That might be changing roles, switching cities, exploring other countries, or even returning home for a season to re-group. Soft life often comes later, after you’ve built stability, credit, skills, and a network.

If you want deeper context on how immigration policy can shape migrant life and power dynamics, academic work on the UK “hostile environment” can be sobering, such as this University of Essex thesis focused on Nigerian migrant women (repository.essex.ac.uk).

Conclusion

That Instagram reel wasn’t fake. It just wasn’t the whole bill.

For many Nigerians in the UK, Japa brings safety, structure, and better long-term options. It can also bring pressure, loneliness, and a season of humble work before things improve. The difference between “it’s sweet” and “it’s suffering” often comes down to planning, support, and expectations.

If you’re considering the move, save more than you think you need, research your route properly, and ask hard questions before you book a flight. And if you decide to stay and build in Nigeria, that choice also deserves respect. Growth has more than one address.