What made me leave Nigeria and move to Scotland in 2022?
For many people, migration is about seeking better opportunities. For me, it was about seeking safety.
I am a Middle Belt girl who grew up in Northern Nigeria. From a young age, I witnessed religious crises, sectarian violence, riots, and insecurity. It was part of the reality I grew up with.
In 2006, I left Jos for my National Youth Service in Port Harcourt. I thought I was leaving behind the violence and moving towards peace. Instead, I found myself facing another kind of insecurity—militancy, kidnappings, and unrest in the South-South.
It felt like I was constantly running from one form of violence to another.
Despite everything, I built a good life in Nigeria. I had a successful career, my own house, my business, my car, and a comfortable middle-class life. Nigeria was home, and I loved it.
But the insecurity kept getting worse.
The turning point came when bullets started finding their way into our home.
On one occasion, we returned home to discover that a stray bullet had pierced our roof and landed in our living room. We saw the evidence on the floor.
Then it happened again.
This time, I wasn’t home. My husband and son were. Another bullet pierced the roof and landed on my son.
That was the moment we knew we could no longer stay.
We made the heartbreaking decision to leave everything behind.
I resigned from my job. We sold our possessions, our house, and our car. We packed our entire lives into six suitcases and started over in the UK.
Before moving, I researched extensively. The UK has four nations, and I carefully considered where would be best for my family. Scotland stood out to me. It felt safer, more affordable, welcoming, and family-friendly. As a Black woman raising a son, it ticked all the boxes.
So we chose Scotland.
Like every immigrant family, we struggled, adjusted, learned, and rebuilt. There were ups and downs, sacrifices and challenges, but slowly Scotland became home.
And here we are in 2026.
After fleeing violence in Nigeria, I now find myself once again confronted by hatred and hostility directed at immigrants and people who look like me.
It’s painful.
Sometimes I wonder: what does the world really want from us?
Is it our fault that we are Black?
Is it our fault that we speak with a different accent?
Is it our fault that our skin is a different colour, or that our hair has a different texture?
Many of us did not come here to take anything from anyone. We came seeking peace, safety, and a future for our children.
We work hard. We contribute to society. We pay taxes. Many of us are not entitled to public funds or benefits, yet we continue to do our part.
We take on jobs that many others are unwilling to do. We care for people, support communities, and help keep essential services running.
Yet whenever something goes wrong, immigrants are often the first to be blamed.
Why?
This post comes from a place of pain.
I gave up a comfortable life because I wanted my child to grow up somewhere safe. I never imagined that after escaping bullets in my homeland, I would still have to justify my presence, my humanity, and my right to exist in peace.
At the end of the day, we all want the same things: safety, dignity, opportunity, and a better future for our children.
This is a wonderful write up. Thanks for using your Platform to speak for the black with good hearts
What made me leave Nigeria and move to Scotland in 2022?
For many people, migration is about seeking better opportunities. For me, it was about seeking safety.
I am a Middle Belt girl who grew up in Northern Nigeria. From a young age, I witnessed religious crises, sectarian violence, riots, and insecurity. It was part of the reality I grew up with.
In 2006, I left Jos for my National Youth Service in Port Harcourt. I thought I was leaving behind the violence and moving towards peace. Instead, I found myself facing another kind of insecurity—militancy, kidnappings, and unrest in the South-South.
It felt like I was constantly running from one form of violence to another.
Despite everything, I built a good life in Nigeria. I had a successful career, my own house, my business, my car, and a comfortable middle-class life. Nigeria was home, and I loved it.
But the insecurity kept getting worse.
The turning point came when bullets started finding their way into our home.
On one occasion, we returned home to discover that a stray bullet had pierced our roof and landed in our living room. We saw the evidence on the floor.
Then it happened again.
This time, I wasn’t home. My husband and son were. Another bullet pierced the roof and landed on my son.
That was the moment we knew we could no longer stay.
We made the heartbreaking decision to leave everything behind.
I resigned from my job. We sold our possessions, our house, and our car. We packed our entire lives into six suitcases and started over in the UK.
Before moving, I researched extensively. The UK has four nations, and I carefully considered where would be best for my family. Scotland stood out to me. It felt safer, more affordable, welcoming, and family-friendly. As a Black woman raising a son, it ticked all the boxes.
So we chose Scotland.
Like every immigrant family, we struggled, adjusted, learned, and rebuilt. There were ups and downs, sacrifices and challenges, but slowly Scotland became home.
And here we are in 2026.
After fleeing violence in Nigeria, I now find myself once again confronted by hatred and hostility directed at immigrants and people who look like me.
It’s painful.
Sometimes I wonder: what does the world really want from us?
Is it our fault that we are Black?
Is it our fault that we speak with a different accent?
Is it our fault that our skin is a different colour, or that our hair has a different texture?
Many of us did not come here to take anything from anyone. We came seeking peace, safety, and a future for our children.
We work hard. We contribute to society. We pay taxes. Many of us are not entitled to public funds or benefits, yet we continue to do our part.
We take on jobs that many others are unwilling to do. We care for people, support communities, and help keep essential services running.
Yet whenever something goes wrong, immigrants are often the first to be blamed.
Why?
This post comes from a place of pain.
I gave up a comfortable life because I wanted my child to grow up somewhere safe. I never imagined that after escaping bullets in my homeland, I would still have to justify my presence, my humanity, and my right to exist in peace.
At the end of the day, we all want the same things: safety, dignity, opportunity, and a better future for our children.
Surely that is not too much to ask.