_By Sam Agogo_
Nigeria’s migration story is deeply rooted in its history. Long before the green passport existed, Nigerians were already crossing borders — first as students in colonial England, later as workers in the oil-rich Middle East, and eventually as hustlers in the bustling markets of Asia.
Migration was not just a choice; it became survival.In the 1960s and 70s, young Nigerians travelled abroad to study law, medicine, and engineering, returning home as nationalist agitators and professionals who helped dismantle colonial structures. But by the 1980s and 90s, the narrative shifted. Coups, economic collapse, and insecurity pushed Nigerians out in droves. The naira lost its value, jobs disappeared, and the middle class suffocated under failed policies. Migration became an exodus.By the turn of the millennium, Nigerians were everywhere: in Guangzhou’s markets, London’s hospitals, Houston’s universities, Johannesburg’s streets, and Riyadh’s labour pools. Some left with valid visas and clear plans. Others overstayed visitor permits or student visas, driven by desperation as fundamental as hunger. They sent money home, built houses they rarely visited, and educated siblings across thousands of miles. Their remittances became a lifeline, often outpacing oil revenue as Nigeria’s main source of foreign exchange.Yet this compact between nation and diaspora has always been one-sided. The state takes the remittances but fails to protect its citizens abroad. Today, that failure has erupted into a global crisis: Nigerians abandoned in detention centers, beaten in xenophobic attacks, stranded by immigration reforms, and dying in perilous journeys across deserts and seas.The most haunting evidence of this abandonment is now circulating across social media. A viral video shows Nigerian men hunched inside a sparse, airless deportation facility in New Delhi. Their faces are hollow, their voices heavy with despair. They are not criminals, nor terrorists. Their only offence, many say, is that their travel documents expired. Yet they have been locked inside India’s immigration detention system for months — some for more than a year, others for as long as three years.One detainee, Onyeka, spoke with desperation: “We need help, please. The Nigerian Embassy is not working here. We are doing nothing here. We are just suffering here.” Another, Arinze, revealed that some of his fellow countrymen have now spent three years inside the facility — three years of lost income, family separation, deteriorating health, and in some cases, deteriorating sanity. The video is raw, painful, and damning. It is not just a record of suffering; it is a testament to the collapse of trust in Nigerian institutions abroad.The humiliation deepened when Finnish officials arrived at the same camp, identified their citizen, and removed him immediately. Nigerians watched helplessly, realizing what true consular protection looks like.Elsewhere, the crisis takes different shapes but the same form of neglect. In South Africa, xenophobic attacks have claimed Nigerian lives. Amamiro Chidierbere Emmanuel died after being beaten by soldiers, while Nnaemeka Matthew Andrew was arrested and later found dead in a mortuary. Nigeria’s Foreign Minister condemned the killings, accusing South Africa of failing to protect foreign nationals. Evacuation flights began but stalled, leaving many stranded as anti-migrant groups set deadlines for deportation.What makes the Nigerian case even more painful is the contrast with other African nations. Ghana, Zimbabwe, Malawi, and Kenya all moved swiftly to evacuate their citizens when the violence escalated. Their embassies coordinated buses, flights, and safe passage, ensuring their nationals were not left to the mercy of vigilante mobs. Nigerians, by contrast, were left waiting outside their High Commission in Pretoria, pleading for evacuation as deadlines loomed. The difference was stark: while other governments acted, Nigeria hesitated.Saudi Arabia tells another story of abandonment. Sweeping labour reforms in 2024 upended the lives of thousands of Nigerians. Work permits were revoked, housing districts demolished, and migrants left jobless and homeless. Deportation camps filled with Nigerians, some forced to wrap themselves in polythene bags against desert cold. Though 384 were repatriated, many remain trapped, their fate uncertain.Libya remains the deadliest corridor. NiDCOM estimates 7,000 Nigerians stranded there. The International Organization for Migration has assisted over 65,500 Nigerians to return home in nine years. Yet the flow continues. In February 2026, a boat carrying 55 migrants capsized. Fifty-three died or went missing, including Nigerian children. Only two Nigerian women survived — one lost her husband, the other both her babies.Across India, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, and Libya, the pattern is disturbingly consistent: embassies that don’t answer phones, high commissions that make empty promises, and diplomatic missions that fail to protect citizens. Nigeria benefits from billions in remittances yet abandons its people when they need help most.The Tinubu administration must act decisively. It must conduct an audit of Nigerians in detention worldwide, fund and staff embassies to provide real consular protection, negotiate bilateral repatriation protocols with countries where Nigerians are routinely detained, and empower NiDCOM with legal authority and resources to act as an emergency diaspora response agency.Most importantly, Nigeria must become livable again. Until then, its citizens will continue to risk death in deserts and seas, or languish in foreign jails, waiting for a country that has not yet learned to come for them.This is not just a diaspora crisis — it is a referendum on governance. Every Nigerian stranded abroad is a reminder that the surest protection policy is one that makes Nigeria a place worth staying in.
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📧 Email: samuelagogo4one@yahoo.com
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