Episode 7: Finding My Feet
From Lagos to London: My First Year Abroad
I always heard people say, “The beginning is the hardest.” But no one ever says how long that beginning can last.
For me, the storm didn’t calm overnight. It took months of grinding, humility, and small wins that didn’t make the headlines of my life — but built the foundation I’d stand on.
This was the season where everything started making sense.
Getting the Care Job
It came through a WhatsApp broadcast message from an old classmate who had moved to Birmingham. “They need support workers here,” the message said, along with a blurry flyer and a contact.
I didn’t think much of it at first — just another dead end, I assumed. But I called anyway.
Three weeks later, I was standing in a care home, in an oversized uniform, with gloves two sizes too big, watching an elderly woman named Margaret throw a slipper at the TV because the volume was too loud.
It wasn’t glamorous. But it was something.
The pay wasn’t great, but it came in consistently. And more importantly, it gave me structure. A sense of purpose. A way to breathe again.
I was officially a part-time care assistant in South East London.
Balancing Books and Bills
It took a while to adjust. I’d do night shifts at the care home, sleep for four hours, then dash to lectures with bloodshot eyes and cold coffee.
But I found a rhythm.
I made a strict timetable: school during the day, work at night, weekends for sleep and assignments. I learned how to say “no” to distractions — parties, group hangouts, even Amara when she eventually reached out again.
I was focused. I had to be.
There were moments I’d fall asleep on the bus and wake up three stops too far. There were nights I almost collapsed from exhaustion. But the difference now was — I had hope.
Saving, Planning, Giving
With every payslip, I started saving — even if it was just £50. I opened a separate Monzo account, labelled it “Home,” and promised myself I wouldn’t touch it unless it was for Nigeria.
By the third month, I had saved enough to send money back home.
It wasn’t much — but the joy in my mother’s voice made it feel like a million dollars.
“You’ve made me proud, Emeka,” she said, choking up on the call.
That was the first time I cried in months — not out of pain, but pride.
I started planning too. Setting monthly budgets. Cutting unnecessary subscriptions. I swapped Uber Eats for home-cooked indomie and eggs. My flatmate taught me how to meal prep for a week with just £15.
It felt good to be in control again.
Becoming a Local
Funny how things change.
The same roads I once got lost on, I now knew like the back of my hand.
The accent that used to confuse me now rolled off my tongue when necessary.
Even the cold weather — I had learned how to dress for it like a pro.
I wasn’t just living in London anymore. I was surviving it.
No — I was owning it.
Final Reflection
Looking back, I realised this year abroad was never just about studying.
It was about becoming.
Becoming resourceful. Becoming resilient. Becoming self-aware.
It was about breaking, healing, and building again — brick by brick.
I learned that you don’t need to have it all figured out to start.
That struggling doesn’t make you weak — it makes you human.
And that sometimes, hope is the only thing you can afford — but it’s enough.
Advice to the Next Dreamer
If you’re reading this and planning to “japa,” let me tell you:
Yes, it’s hard.
Yes, there will be moments you’ll regret leaving home.
But it’s doable.
Find a support system. Be humble enough to take any job. Budget like your life depends on it — because it does. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. And don’t lose yourself trying to fit into a new world.
Above all, never forget where you came from. Let it ground you.
Conclusion: Full Circle
It’s been one full year.
From that shaky boy who arrived with a plastic Ghana-Must-Go bag and a head full of dreams — to the man who now walks these London streets with purpose.
The struggles shaped me.
The people changed me.
But I… I chose to rise.
And that has made all the difference.
THE END.
A Coolvalstories Original
