Real Stories: I sold my father’s land to japa, now I want to come back home

My father died in 2018, but I’m starting to think he must be turning in his grave.

That land in Ikorodu meant everything to him. He used to talk about it like it was gold. “One day,” he’d say, “this land will be your backup in life.” I didn’t know I’d end up cashing in that “backup” just to escape this country.

I was 27, jobless, and tired. Nothing was working. Every job I applied for either ghosted me or offered to pay chicken change like I was a joke. My mother was managing her shop, my siblings were looking up to me, and I felt like I was drowning in disappointment.

Japa fever was everywhere. Canada. UK. Germany. People I went to school with were posting snow pictures and master’s degrees. And here I was, pressing phone all day, surviving on gala and indomie.

So I made the decision. I sold the land.

PREVIOUS: Real Stories: I joined Yahoo-Yahoo after my babe called me ‘broke’

It was still in my dad’s name, but no one in the family was checking. I told my mum I needed it to “start a business.” I even faked a loan rejection letter to convince her. When I sold it, I got ₦7.8 million. I paid an agent ₦2.5 million to process my study visa for Canada. I used the rest to “package” myself and got my proof of funds, winter jacket, laptop, the whole works.

I remember crying when my visa came out. I thought, “Finally. God has done it.”

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way, it’s that Canada is not paradise. I arrived in Ontario in January. The cold slapped me into reality. My “school” was some small college in a forgotten town. Accommodation? A shared basement with five other Nigerians. Work? Nothing. My study hours limited how much I could earn, and the only job I found was cleaning offices from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m.

ALSO READ: Real Stories: My family disowned me for converting from Christianity to Islam

Some days, I walked home in the freezing cold because I couldn’t afford bus fare. I missed home-cooked food. I missed my mother’s voice. I missed Nigeria, the same country I cursed every day before I left.

And then the agent called me, “Your balance is due.” That’s when it hit me: I was broke, alone, and stuck.

Now, I think of that land every day. The land my father cleared with his hands. The one he used to walk around with pride, saying, “This is for my children.” And I sold it… for a dream that’s now a burden.

I want to come back. But how do I face my mother? How do I tell my siblings that the land is gone? That their inheritance was spent on expired dreams?

I japa’d to find a better life. But now, all I want is home.

PREVIOUS STORY: Real Stories: He paid for My BBL in Turkey then demanded ‘installment’ sex as payment