The other day, I was talking to some friends, and I told them, "If you're born in Nigeria, by default, life is winning you 5-0". We all burst out laughing. What else can you do but laugh? Being Nigerian sometimes feels like you're playing a game with invisible rules designed specifically for you to lose, and all most Nigerians know this.
You’re guilty until proven innocent…
So imagine this: I'm feeling extra blessed one day and decide, "You know what my family deserves? Everyone, let’s go to Paris!" Simple, right?
Nope, it’s not.
Each family member has to go through a series of checks and balances as if they were Osama Bin Laden's descendants. Documents upon documents, it’s like you’re auditioning for the world’s best elaborate paper trail.
Bring your birth certificate to prove you were really born. Then, your grandmother's birth certificate, too, just in case you're secretly related to someone suspicious from six generations back. Bank statements? Oh yes, please bring those too—showing at least $5,000 that's been lounging in your account for at least six months.
And don't forget the letter from your employer promising they'll keep your job while you're away. Because obviously, the moment a Nigerian touches foreign soil, their natural instinct is to abandon their entire life, career, and family for the privilege of washing old people’s bum in a depressing care home.
"What's that? Oh you own property in Lagos worth millions? That is interesting, but can you prove you have a compelling reason to return to it? Perhaps a signed affidavit from your dog confirming he'll miss you terribly?”
The worst of them all… those visa interviews…
To apply to a country like USA, you have to show up at what I call "the judgment seat" – the visa interview. There you sit stand (because they don’t even give you a chair in some of them) across from Ms. Bureaucracy, a woman whose face seems permanently stuck between "suspicious" and "mildly annoyed". A middle-aged woman with rectangular glasses perched on her nose. Her desk so neat, it looked like she'd never actually used it, and behind her hung a US flag, a silent reminder of where your allegiance is expected to lie during the interrogation.
"Why do you want to visit the USA?" she would ask arrogantly as if she owned the world.
"Tourism", your sorry self would reply sheepishly, immediately regretting your response as her eyebrows formed a perfect horizontal line of disapproval as if "tourism" was a concept too sophisticated for someone with a Nigerian passport to understand.
"Do you have family in the USA?" she would fire back.
"No, ma'am"
"Friends?"
"Nope."
"A secret USA lover perhaps?" (Okay, she probably won’t actually ask this, but her expression would suggest she is considering it).
"What guarantee do I have that you'll return?" she would finally ask, the million-dollar question.
And you're left with two options: bare your soul with genuine emotion about your homeland ties, or cook up some perfectly rehearsed lie because even your crazy-ass Nigerian self doesn’t actually plan to return.
Oh, visa interviews – such a humbling experience, it’s the biggest exercise if you want to learn how to swallow your pride. The power imbalance is palpable—you, the supplicant, begging for permission; they, the gatekeepers, weighing whether you're worthy of entry into their promised land.
And there you are, sitting standing like a dummy, looking blankly left and right because they don’t even allow phones in there, while you try to both appear wealthy enough to travel and humble enough to not seem arrogant.
The Passport Olympics and Nigeria competing in the disadvantaged category…
You know that feeling when you're at an international airport, and you see people from certain countries breezing through smart gates like they're walking through their own living room? Meanwhile, you're in a special line that might as well have a flashing neon sign made by Tony from LCSIGN saying "ADDITIONAL SCRUTINY REQUIRED"?
I always wonder why those smart gates at immigration work for some nationalities and not for some.
It's like watching people play life on easy mode while you're stuck on legendary difficulty with no checkpoints.
"Oh, you have a Greece passport? Please, take this express lane with complimentary shoulder massages."
"Nigerian passport? Perfect! Step right into this long line. We have some questions about your second cousin's neighbour’s dog."
Lowkey, this situation forces you into a subtle state of inferiority—which most Nigerians naturally have—not because you believe you're less deserving, but because the world has conspired to make you feel that way. Your nationality becomes a burden rather than a source of pride, a hurdle to overcome rather than a part of your identity to celebrate.
And I’m using passport as a reference point because a passport is meant to be your access card to the world. And if that’s already a disadvantage to you, imagine what other things must be like.
In offence and defence of Nigeria…
But can you blame the world? Probably not. Some Nigerians are really trash… and that’s what you get when you put 250M+ people in one country with over 500 different languages to confuse them.
I see Nigeria on some sanction list and wonder, “Nigeria isn't even this bad.” It's just a country with a huge population and some bad leaders. And every country with a vast population has a very high number of good and bad people. Often, bad people shine more in the media, and the world feeds from the media.
But that’s just a story for the gods. Because, most times, what the world thinks is more important than what is true.
Nigeria is home to some of the GOATs. We're the ones who look at constant electricity outages and say, "Well, I'll just start my generator", I’m sure that visa interview lady can’t even start a generator.
Wrapping this up…
I'm from Nigeria. Am I a bad person? Checks moral compass… Nope, still pointing due north.
Being Nigerian isn't the worst—it's just like being part of an exclusive club, where the membership benefits include supernatural resilience, a high level of patience for nonsense, and the ability to find humour in the most frustrating situations.
So yes, we might start the game down 5-0, but if there's one thing Nigerians know how to do, it's come from behind for a dramatic victory. After all, we're the people who invented "Nigerian time" – we might be late to the party, but when we arrive, we make it worth the wait.
Still….. despite the 5-0 score life has handed us, some of us equalize, beat the score, become a GOAT, and remain one. Life lost, and we're here celebrating the comeback victory.
And if you ever see a Nigerian and a “USA” person sitting at the same high table, just know the journey there is never the same. Sure, it’s far from everyone, but there’s a good chance that one had to come from 500000000000KM, and the other… who knows? The point is, doings get level, and if you didn’t know, now you do.