The following week, Ayo found himself at a crossroads. The conversation with Tobi had planted seeds of doubt, but the pressure to pursue his dream of Jand was relentless. It came from everywhere—his friends, his colleagues, even strangers on social media who glorified the "Japa" lifestyle.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day at work, Ayo decided to visit his uncle, Uncle Femi, who lived in Surulere. Uncle Femi was a well-traveled man, having spent years abroad before returning to Nigeria to start his own business. Ayo hoped he could offer some clarity.
The drive to Surulere was slow, the traffic a testament to Lagos's unyielding chaos. By the time Ayo arrived, the sun had set, and the streets were bathed in the warm glow of streetlights and neon signs. Uncle Femi's house was a modest bungalow, its walls adorned with photographs of his travels.
"Ayo, my boy!" Uncle Femi greeted him with a hearty smile, ushering him inside. "What brings you here?"
Ayo hesitated, then plunged into the reason for his visit. He told Uncle Femi about his dream of Jand, the conversation with Tobi, and the doubts that had begun to creep in.
Uncle Femi listened intently, his expression thoughtful. When Ayo finished, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Ayo, let me tell you something. When I was your age, I had the same dream. I thought life abroad was the answer to all my problems. And you know what? It wasn't."
Ayo frowned. "But you always talk about your time abroad like it was the best years of your life."
Uncle Femi chuckled. "I talk about the good parts, yes. But there were struggles too—loneliness, discrimination, the constant feeling of being an outsider. It's not easy, Ayo. And it's not for everyone."
Ayo felt a lump form in his throat. "So, you're saying I shouldn't go?"
Uncle Femi shook his head. "I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is, you need to ask yourself why you want to go. Is it because you truly believe it's the best path for you? Or is it because everyone else is doing it?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and unignorable. Ayo had no answer.
The next day, Ayo decided to confront Tobi. He needed to hear the truth, no matter how painful it might be. He called Tobi, and after some small talk, he got straight to the point.
"Tobi, tell me the truth. Is it worth it? Leaving everything behind for Jand?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Tobi finally spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. "Ayo, I won't lie to you. It's hard. Some days, I feel like I made the biggest mistake of my life. But other days… other days, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. It's complicated."
Ayo felt a mix of relief and frustration. "So, what should I do?"
Tobi sighed. "I can't tell you what to do, bro. All I can say is, make sure you're running toward something, not just running away."
The words struck a chord deep within Ayo. For the first time, he realized that his dream of Jand had always been about escape—escape from the chaos, the struggle, the feeling of being stuck. But escape wasn't a plan; it was a reaction.
That evening, Ayo sat on his balcony, the city spread out before him like a living, breathing entity. He thought about Uncle Femi's words, Tobi's honesty, and Damilola's unwavering support. He thought about the vibrant culture of Lagos, the resilience of its people, and the untapped potential that surrounded him.
And for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine a different dream—a dream where he stayed, where he built something meaningful, where he found his place in the chaos.
It was a terrifying thought, but also exhilarating.