I Finally Understand Why People Leave And Never Look Back

To The Reader Who Gets It,

I almost skipped that salutation because, unlike my other writings, this one is different. Typically I write with joy — but not today. It’s been about a month since I published, and that’s because I got emotionally interrupted on the 3rd of March, and my brain chose the easiest coping mechanism available: “distraction”.

It’s all over now, but I didn’t get inspired to write for a while. I’d scroll aimlessly on social media — which is something I h@te, by the way. I wanted to write something on “Self-care”, but I realized I wouldn’t give it my all if I hadn’t fully expressed myself about this particular incident. If you know me, you’d know I love to express myself a lot!

I might sound a tad bit @ngry, so bear with me.

I’ve always loved Nigeria, and I’ve always said Nigeria is blessed; I mean, she is blessed. I’ve also never understood people who leave Nigeria and never want to return home. Unfortunately, I’ve begun to understand them, because once you experience a system that works and holds everyone accountable for their actions, why would you choose to stay in a place where money or connections decide your fate in almost every situation?

The first week of March, I had an experience with the Nigerian police, and it went on till about the third week. When I met the police woman I spoke to, she said: "Don’t worry, after my investigation, I’ll make them pay you if they were lying. I am an honest police officer”.

Tell me why and how we went from this to something else.

You see, it taught me one thing: People who announce themselves as being a certain way are the total opposite of what they’re saying. They’re simply trying to manipulate how you see them, but unfortunately, any smart person can and will see through that manipulation when your actions don’t match your words!

We have always blamed the government, but is it only the government? Listen, I blame them for not putting rules in place for certain behaviours and enforcing those rules to make sure that the offenders are brought to book.

Nigeria is a country controlled by money, which means you’re on your own if you don’t have money or come from a family with money! People worship money so much that it di$gusts the h£ll out of me! Some of us even carry this mentality outside Nigeria, and exhibit classist behaviors that $tink!

A couple of days ago, I almost gave up on my belief that Nigeria will get better — because I watched something someone shared on their WhatsApp story: a state in Nigeria that celebrates the r@ping of women. 

For over a year now, I have stopped following Nigerian news blogs for the sake of my sanity, because it’s like almost every day, there’s some n€gativity on the Nigerian media. 

Many people frowned upon that festival and spoke out against it on social media. I can’t even express how I felt about it! I just kept thinking, “who gave birth to these men?”

“Is there a reason why many parents choose not to properly raise their sons?”

“At what point does it stop being unsafe to be a woman?”

I had two questions: “Will the women who experienced this cru€lty get justice?”

“What are the chances that this won’t keep happening?”

There are things we definitely have to blame the government for. Things like basic amenities they fail to provide, but do we also blame them for these b@rb@ric behaviors?

It’s easy—almost comforting—to believe Nigeria’s problems live in government offices, in big chairs — behind polished tables. It gives us distance, and it gives us innocence; because if the problem is them, then it can’t possibly be us, right?

But Nigeria is not just a place. It’s a pattern. It’s in the way someone cuts a queue, and everyone else sighs but lets it slide. It’s in the “do you know who I am?” energy that shows up in small, everyday interactions.

It’s in the casual disregard for rules we expect others to uphold magically.

And no, this is not one of those “we are all the problem” speeches that try to water down real issues. Leadership matters, systems matter, power matters. Some failures sit squarely where authority lives, and they shouldn’t be excused. I agree with that!

But there’s also something quieter, less dramatic, and harder to confront: the culture we participate in daily. Because how do you build a functioning system with people who don’t believe in systems? How do you demand accountability when, in smaller ways, you resist being accountable too?

I remember being at a bank in January last year. I was having a conversation with one of the bank staff while my card was being activated. People were also in the bank for their respective needs. The line was long, slow-moving, and some were already frustr@ted and restless. Then a man walked in, greeted a staff member, and within minutes, was attended to—no queue, no questions. People noticed. Some were annoyed, but nobody spoke up. A few even admired it. Then a young guy that seemed to be in his late 20's blurted out: Connection is everything. Some chuckled in response to that, and some looked at him like "you can't be serious right now".

This is how the things we complain about continue. Not just because of those in power, but because of the silent agreements we make with dysfunction. The little ways we excuse it, benefit from it, or choose not to challenge it. 

Rules are flexible if you know the right people. Why? 

I d€test people who are controlled by money. They’re the most classist set of human beings you’ll ever meet, but I have also realized one thing. This behavior doesn’t come from people who experienced genuine care from parents right from childhood.  

Nigeria, as it is, lives in two places: in government decisions that feel disconnected, and in everyday choices that slowly shape what becomes normal. This second part is where we need to hold ourselves accountable.

Anyway, while we blame the government, let’s also examine our individual behaviors because we also have a part to play in this whole m€ss even if your contribution is keeping quiet when you see someone mistreating another person. After all, “it is not your business”; or because there’s something you stand to gain by keeping quiet.

At the end of the day, leaders may lead a country, but we live its reality every single day — and no matter how far we run from Nigeria, we can’t outrun our roots.

Sighs! I think I feel better now. See you in my next post.

This week’s Gentle Reminder: There is peace in being who you say you are.

Xo, Moxie!

Have you read When Friendships Fade?