BY EMAMEH GABRIEL
The images that greeted us last week were both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Heartwarming, because 262 Nigerians, many of them traumatised, some in tears, touched down at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport in Lagos, finally safe from the horror they had endured in South Africa. Heartbreaking, because they were fleeing a country many had once believed offered the paradise they could not find at home. By the time the evacuation exercise is completed on June 24, over 1,000 Nigerians would have been repatriated.
The South African Department of Home Affairs has confirmed that 586 Nigerians were processed for repatriation, with the first batch of 268 departing on June 11 and a second flight scheduled for June 15 .
But these numbers do not tell the full story.
In the last eight weeks alone, about 12 Nigerians were reportedly shot in South Africa. One of them, Mrs Emilia Godwin, lost her husband to the violence. In tears, she told anyone who cared to listen: “I will not return to South Africa, they killed my husband” . Across the country, Nigerian tenants were given 24-hour quit notices by landlords. Shops were looted and set ablaze. Gangs armed with sticks and whips marched through townships, going door to door, howling insults that Nigerians were their primary target .
Returnees have since opened up about the dehumanising treatment they endured. Rafiu Wasiu, a mechanic, described being treated “like animals.” He recounted how black South Africans would stop him on the street, demand his phone, and stab him if he resisted, while the police did nothing. Milly Abuh lost her business after authorities shut it down, claiming she lacked proper documentation. When she asked questions, they beat her. Lara Jacob, who had legal permits, was told point-blank to “go home and fix your country” when she attempted to renew them .
Between 2000 and 2020, a study recorded 127 Nigerians killed in South Africa. The Nigerian Union South Africa has documented no fewer than 118 deaths over the years, including the recent killing of Mr Chikamnene Eddie Mmuonagorom, fatally stabbed at his home in Kimberley. These are not statistics; they are lives, families, and dreams cut short.
Home is Home
What, then, must Nigerians learn from this recurring tragedy? The lesson is simple: your home is your home. Many of those who left Nigeria did so because they were convinced, through relentless narratives on social media, that their country was the worst place on earth. They believed there was paradise elsewhere. They were wrong.
South Africa, with its unemployment rate exceeding 33% and youth unemployment above 45%, is not paradise. The socioeconomic frustrations that drive xenophobic attacks are a reminder that no country is without its own demons. The Nigerian returnees who appealed to the federal government for rehabilitation and start-up capital to rebuild their lives are testament to a painful truth: there is dignity and safety in one’s own country that cannot be found elsewhere.
But there is a deeper wound here. Many Nigerians abroad, not just in South Africa, are trapped. They left with grand expectations, sold a dream by those who had gone before them. Now, out of shame, they cannot return. They had left Nigeria with the impression that paradise awaited them. It was an illusion, one peddled by frustrated Nigerians overseas who, from the comfort of their foreign residences, badmouth the country on social media, dragging its image and misleading those who know no better.
The phrase “Japa” has become a cultural phenomenon, driven in part by diaspora narratives amplified through social media platforms. These narratives, often presented without nuance, depict Nigeria as irredeemably broken and foreign lands as utopias. The result is a perception tax that costs Nigeria dearly, higher borrowing costs, delayed investment commitments, and a national reputation that lags behind the reality of ongoing reforms.
A Patriotic Duty
Let us be clear: criticism of Nigeria is necessary and healthy. No government should be immune from scrutiny. But there is a difference between constructive criticism and the systematic de-marketing of one’s own country. When a Nigerian abroad tells the world that Nigeria is a “burning house,” they are not just expressing frustration; they are signaling to investors, rating agencies, and potential partners that the country is terminal. The cost of that signal is borne by every Nigerian, in higher interest rates, weaker currency, and diminished opportunities.
We must stop fooling ourselves. The challenges we face as a nation, insecurity, unemployment, infrastructure deficits, are real and must be addressed. But they are not unique to Nigeria, and they are not insurmountable. What is unique is our willingness to throw our country under the bus in ways that other nations would never contemplate.
The evacuation by Air Peace, which has now conducted this humanitarian mission twice in three years, is a testament to what patriotism looks like. Chairman Allen Onyema did not wait for government approval; he acted. The airline’s Boeing 777 aircraft, which carried the returnees, would have cost between N252 million and N309 million for a commercial flight. Onyema covered it himself. That is what love of country looks like.
Moving Forward
Nigerians must learn that the grass is not always greener on the other side. South Africa’s xenophobic attacks are a brutal reminder that being a foreigner comes with risks that no amount of economic opportunity can justify. Those who return home, broken, traumatised, but alive, are the lucky ones. Many others are buried in foreign soil, their dreams unfulfilled.
We must also acknowledge our collective failure as a nation to create conditions that keep our citizens at home. But that failure does not excuse the actions of those who, from abroad, paint a picture of hopelessness that sends more of our people into harm’s way.
As we welcome our brothers and sisters back home, let us also welcome a new mindset: home is home. It may not be perfect, but it is ours. And it is the only place where we will never be treated like animals. That lesson, learned the hard way by over a thousand Nigerians who have seen the worst of what the world has to offer, is one we must never forget.
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