Dear brothers in the abroad – Viola Okolie

Dear brothers in the abroad – Viola Okolie

Dear Brothers in the abroad,

Please stop coming home to marry. Yes.

See, you live in the abroad, you work in the abroad, you do virtually everything in the abroad. Some of you hold down two or three yeye jobs, jobs that before you left Nigeria for wherever it is you reside now, you would open your big mouths and yab people who engage in them like they were not earning money and running homes from it.


For instance, you walk past a nurse standing by the roadside in her smart white gown and paper cap pinned to her head and you start yabbing her “Nurse Eliza, sofri sofri dey give injection o. Abeg laugh small, the way wey dis your face dey, na your type dey go break needle inside person nyansh.” Meanwhile you are on your way to the American Embassy to drop off yet another fake passport in an attempt to scam them into issuing you a visa.

When you arrive at the American Embassy, you proceed to harass and talk down on the security guards stationed at the entrance. Do they know who you are? Do they know where you are headed? Do they know that your second cousin twice removed that came home for the Christmas celebrations promised to find you a place where you can join in his “business” and help him to “run things” as soon as you land in the abroad?

Then a common security man will have the temerity to talk to you anyhow he likes? Over what kwanu? Anyway, you will just hold yourself from giving him a proper tongue lashing because you need that visa more than the Nigerian Mpa Nnukwu needs his private jets. This is the year you get to visit the abroad, whether by hook or by crook.


Taxi driver, fast food hawker, newspaper vendor, barber… you just name it, all of them get an equal dose of contempt from you for engaging in menial tasks, especially when by some stroke of sheer luck, you hear the magic words “congratulations, please pick up your visa from so and so place on so and so date”.

You swell like ijebu garri left too long in a bowl of water. You rise like puff puff to which a generous dose of yeast has been added. Nobody can reach you, nobody can touch you, and you are on your way to the abroad. Very soon, you will be wearing bling bling from the tip of your forehead to the last toe on your foot. You will be sipping champagne with Jay Z and flirting with Beyonce’s back up dancers.

A man with an American visa in his hands can do exploits.

That is of course, until you call your second cousin twice removed to inform him that you have just been issued a visa and that will probably be the last day you ever hear from him. His phone goes into voice mail and whenever you call him with a different number, the automated message asking for your name and number has a decidedly strong Igbo accent.

But your mother is not a prayer warrior for nothing, somehow you bulldoze your way into the abroad and who is the first person you see when you walk into the airport toilets to take a leak? Your cousin who has stopped picking your calls and is supposedly Jay Z’s right hand man, scraping off tourist shit from the walls in the toilet.

Welcome to the abroad, where all is not always as it seems.

Now you are the security man, the toilet cleaner, the fast food vendor, the mortician’s assistant and the street cleaner.

Those jobs you scoffed at in Nigeria, you would willingly take up as many of them as are readily available in order to keep body and soul together and hey… in a Buhari economy, every dollar earned is a bloody good dollar, so you are still in safe hands.

Question: When you all are ready to marry, how come you do not remember the desperation that drove you abroad and settle for akata women who understand the hustle already and can key in willingly? What makes you think you are the only person that would appreciate a short cut to the abroad? Why do you assume most women are ambitionless and are just hanging around waiting for you to bring them abroad so they can slave by day or night to spin money for you and then come home to wait on you hand and foot?

Biko, the times have changed.

Stop killing our long-throat sisters for us when they finally arrive abroad as your brand new wife, obtain their residence permits and begin to waka kurukere waka.

Agreement is agreement, on that I stand too, but instead of killing these women when they finally decide to ditch your sorry arse and hook up with someone else, do not even marry them in the first place. Do not bring them abroad to now start regaling our poor ears with stories that touch when you people start drawing guns on each other or trying to get each other jailed or worse.

Consider everybody you meet a hustler right from the word go and treat them accordingly.

We are in the era of “equal rice for human beans”, so any woman who has seen the abroad in her destiny should feel free to go and join the embassy hustle and fight her way there. Stop naively offering yourselves up to be used to pave someone else’s way abroad. Enjoy your hustle and marry anybody you like while you are it. Your mother will soon enough get used to having half-caste grandchildren and even begin to boast with them. Ignore all her threats, she did not die when your father was philandering all over the place, she will not die because you plan to marry a non-Nigerian wife biko.

Ignore Senator Commonsense and his #BuyNaijaToGrowTheNaira raps, it does not apply to marriage. Buy foreign, marry foreign, insurance covers you.

Please, stop coming home to marry, we the women are serious about this.


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