On a breezy Saturday in Abu­ja, Nkechi sat in a wedding hall dressed in gold lace, watching her childhood friend exchange vows. Everyone cheered, but Nkechi’s eyes welled with tears. Not because she wasn’t happy for her friend — but because her own fiancé, who had japa-ed to Canada two years earlier, called the week before to end their engagement. His reason was blunt: “Nkechi, I can’t keep holding you when life is moving fast here. I’ve met someone.”

Her story is not unique. Across Nigeria, the wave of japa — the mass migration of Nigerians seek­ing greener pastures abroad — has left marriages and relationships gasping for survival. Love is being tested not only by distance, but also by time zones, loneliness, immigra­tion laws, and the crushing weight of survival abroad.

THE WAITING GAME

In Ibadan, 29-year-old Wale had promised his fiancée that once he settled in the UK, he would send for her. She waited for 18 months, holding on to his video calls and oc­casional money transfers. But last December, he told her he couldn’t continue. “I can’t juggle my new job, immigration stress, and a long-dis­tance engagement,” he confessed.

“He was honest, but it broke me,” Wale’s ex-fiancée, Funmi, re­counts. “I wasted almost two years waiting. Now I feel too old to start again.”

Many young women share similar stories. Engagements once full of promise dissolve quietly when relocation stretch­es into years. The “I’ll come back to marry you” vow often clashes with the harsh realities of start­ing life abroad.

Even established marriages aren’t spared. At a counseling clinic in Lagos, Pastor Bode shares that he has seen an in­crease in couples struggling with japa-induced distance.

“Some husbands leave first, promising to send for their wives. But the process drags. In the meantime, the wife feels abandoned, and the man feels pressured abroad. Many end up in quarrels, infidelity, or outright separation,” he explains.

Take the case of Mr. and Mrs. Adepoju. After 12 years of mar­riage, he left for Canada to pursue a master’s degree. His wife stayed back with their three children.

Initially, daily calls kept the fire alive. But soon, the calls grew fewer. She discovered through Facebook that her husband had a “new family friend” abroad.

By the time she confronted him, the marriage was already crumbling. “I was holding the home here, but he was building another there,” Mrs. Adepoju said bitterly.

IMMIGRATION HURDLES

Beyond personal choices, immigration policies also play a cruel role. Spousal visas can take years to process. Some countries restrict work opportunities for dependents, forcing one partner to remain financially dependent.

For couples in the UK, new immigration rules have made it harder to bring in dependents. A 33-year-old nurse who recently re­located to Manchester explains: “I couldn’t bring my husband im­mediately. The new law requires me to earn above a threshold first. He’s still in Lagos, but the distance is already straining us. Sometimes I ask myself if this japa was worth it.”

For others, japa becomes the unexpected doorway to new love. A young man who relocated to Germany shared anonymously: “I didn’t plan to move on. But being lonely in a new country, working odd hours, I found com­fort in someone who understood. Before I knew it, I was in another relationship. It wasn’t betrayal in my mind — it was survival.”

This is the quiet truth many families don’t discuss. Abroad, loneliness and cultural differenc­es push some Nigerians into new relationships, leaving spouses or partners at home bewildered.

Couples often lean on technol­ogy to keep their love alive. Vid­eo calls on WhatsApp and Zoom, joint prayers over Telegram, and surprise money transfers through apps like Wise and Send­wave have become the language of long-distance love. But technol­ogy has limits. “Video calls can’t hug you,” says Ruth, a lawyer in Abuja whose husband relocated to the US. “After the first year, I started resenting the phone. I needed a real partner by my side, not a voice on screen.”

WHEN DISTANCE STRENGTHENS BONDS

Not every japa story ends in heartbreak. Some couples find ways to make it work.

Chidi and Amarachi, married for five years before Amarachi left for postgraduate studies in Canada, decided to treat the sep­aration as a project. They kept a strict schedule: daily devotion calls, monthly financial check-ins, and yearly visits.

“It wasn’t easy,” says Chidi. “But we reminded ourselves that this was temporary. Today, we’re reunited, and stronger than ever.”

Their story proves that with discipline, trust, and faith, some marriages can survive the japa storm.

Marriage counsellors say the biggest casualty of japa is trust. Distance breeds suspicion, and suspicion breeds breakdown.

Sociologists note that emigra­tion is reshaping family struc­tures in Nigeria. “The nuclear family is under stress. Extended families often step in to fill gaps, raising children left behind,” explains Prof. Kehinde, a family sociologist at UI.

Psychologists warn of ris­ing cases of depression linked to separation. “Some spouses at home feel abandoned, while those abroad feel isolated,” says Dr. Nwosu, a Lagos-based therapist.

Between 2019 and 2023, over two million Nigerians emigrated under various study and work vi­sas. Canada, UK, and US remain top destinations, with new clus­ters in Germany and Australia.

According to a 2024 report by SBM Intelligence, family separa­tions due to japa are now among the top five causes of marital breakdown in urban Nigeria.

Japa has also redefined cul­tural practices. Bride prices are delayed because grooms-to-be migrate before marriage. Wed­dings are postponed indefinitely. Some families now hold “Zoom weddings” where the groom joins in virtually.

“Tradition is changing,” says an Ibadan-based marriage regis­trar. “We now record more post­poned marriages tied to migra­tion plans. Sometimes, couples marry in secret so one can apply for spousal visas later.”

Japa is more than a buzzword — it’s a force reshaping Nigeria’s emotional landscape. For some, it brings opportunity and a chance at family reunification abroad. For others, it brings heartbreak, loneliness, and divorce.

At its heart, japa has placed love and marriage at a cross­roads. Every departure stamp on a passport carries not just dreams of greener pastures, but also the risk of emotional uprooting.

For Nigerian couples, the challenge is not just surviving abroad, but keeping love alive across oceans. As Nkechi — the heartbroken bride’s maid — put it, “We plan for visas, but who prepares us for love that gets lost in transit?” (Sunday Independent)