From Ikorodu to Morocco: My journey for greener pastures

My name is Kazim, and my story begins in Ikorodu, Lagos, where I spent my days as a phone repair technician. I barely earned enough to support my family, which included my wife and two young children. 

One fateful day, a relative living abroad reached out with what seemed like a golden opportunity. 

He claimed to have found a place called Morocco that was bursting with potential jobs, particularly in construction and welding, promising that I could earn as much as N500,000 monthly.

The catch? The journey would cost nearly ¦ 2 million. With a sign of hope, I made the decision—I’d sell my small shop, borrow money, and collect whatever I could from friends and family. 

Although I had my reservations, the thought of providing a better life for my family pushed me forward. I set my sights on Morocco, believing it would lead me to success.

I sold my shop and tools for N400,000, borrowed N500,000 from a microfinance bank, and pulled together the rest from friends, family, and a cooperative society. 

Despite the mounting pressure, I hardly suspected that I was being scammed until it was too late.

The journey commenced with a night bus ride from Ikorodu to Kano. The agent instructed me to travel light to avoid suspicion. 

With a backpack containing only a few clothes, a Bible, and some cash cleverly hidden in my shoes, I felt both anxious and hopeful. Upon arriving in Kano, I shared a motel with other hopeful travelers, many of whom had sold their homes to fund this journey. I met Musa, a mechanic whose stories about those who had found success abroad fueled my optimism.

Our journey soon took a terrifying turn. While traveling from Kano to Niger, we were stopped near Maiduguri, a notorious Boko Haram hotspot. Armed men forced us out of the vehicle, claiming we were spies. They demanded cash and valuable possessions, and in a scene of chaos, I lost N50,000 and my phone. 

A woman traveling with her child suffered a brutal beating for attempting to conceal her money. We were lucky to escape with our lives, but the trauma lingered.

After the harrowing encounter with Boko Haram, we managed to reach Agadez in Niger. It was here that I fully realized my dire situation: the agent who had promised to help us vanished, leaving me stranded without papers or a clear plan. I met other stranded hopefuls from Ghana, Senegal, and Gambia, and together we pooled our resources

I met people from Ghana, Senegal, and Gambia—all stuck in the same trap. A Gambian man named Lamin shared how he had been stranded in Agadez for two months after being robbed. Yet, despite the hopelessness, we pooled resources to pay a smuggler who promised to take us to Algeria.

The Sahara Desert was a nightmare. Packed into a Toyota Hilux with 15 people, we endured three days of unbearable heat, freezing nights, and minimal water. I saw a young man from Togo collapse and die. The smuggler didn’t even stop to bury him.

In Algeria, things went from bad to worse. Bandits raided our group near Tamanrasset, stealing whatever we had left. I had hidden $200 in my socks, which saved me from complete destitution.

In Oran, a coastal city, I worked as a porter for three weeks to save enough money to continue the journey. I met a kind Algerian woman named Amina who gave me food when she saw me begging. Not everyone was kind, though. Many locals treated us like animals, spitting at us and calling us “black slaves.”

When I finally reached Morocco, I was emotionally and financially drained. The so-called “opportunities” were non-existent. I ended up in a ghetto in Casablanca, living among other migrants. I worked odd jobs, like washing cars and carrying loads in the market, just to survive.

I also met good people who shared their food and stories of survival. A Nigerian man named Chijioke became like a brother to me. He had been in Morocco for five years and was still trying to cross into Europe.

By the time I gave up and returned to Nigeria, I had spent close to ¦ 2 million. The money went to agents, bribes, smugglers, and survival. I returned with nothing but scars and a heart full of regret.

My journey taught me that not all opportunities are real. Sometimes, the dream of greener pastures can turn into a nightmare.