Deferred living, belonging, and the complicated dream of returning home
By: Kemi Seriki
Immigrant Mission:
African immigrants in the diaspora left their respective countries to live in Europe or America, with hopes, dreams, responsibilities, and a longing for home. There is a Yoruba saying that reflects this belief system that says “A wà nínú ìrìn-àjò yìí, a ó sì padà wá pẹ̀lú èrè wá sílé.” It means, “we are on this journey, and we shall return home with gain, profit, or wealth”. This saying is regularly invoked in songs by Yoruba musicians, in proverbs, and in traditional storytelling. Across the African continent, similar sentiments are found in many cultures. For example, among the Akan people in Ghana, the proverb Akwantufoɔ di adwuma na ɔsan ba fie” is a Twi proverb that emphasizes that “A traveler works (or eats) and returns home.” In Somali culture, the saying “Safarkii waa noo hirgalay, waana soo laabanay anoo hanti wada” which literally translates that the journey was successful, and we are returning bringing wealth. Among the Shona of Zimbabwe, proverbs often encourage returning home to contribute to and be part of one’s community. I believe that many other ethnic groups or tribes within the continent have their own saying that may reflect the same value. Many African immigrants in the diaspora tend to hold on to this belief, dear to their hearts. The mission for most of us immigrants is to work hard in achieving our dreams, whether educational attainment, the dream job, or business aspiration, that would allow us to save as much as possible to take our acquired wealth back home to live the luxury lives we have dreamt of. Many of us work double shifts, multiple jobs, limit our spending power, postpone living comfortable lives, and are dissuaded from enjoying moments that require spending extra money when we deem unnecessary. In some cases, the purpose of that extra money set aside is to build a beautiful building in our homeland. For some, the mission is to build a huge mansion, and for others, it is to acquire as many properties as possible because the homeland is where your status is highly recognized.
The Reality of Navigating a New World
But as time passes, years turn into decades, and families expand, as we get married and have children. Children born and raised abroad become financial priorities, including paying school fees, covering extracurricular activities, and meeting many other financial responsibilities that come with parenting. Many of us may have come to realize that this dream of returning home may not be achievable due to the financial and emotional demands of her life abroad. At the initial stage of migration, many immigrants face the challenge of obtaining legal status, which may take years and is financially expensive, leading to a work permit that may eventually lead to permanent residence status. On a professional level, a former engineer, doctor, accountant, or lawyer in their home country may become a caregiver, warehouse worker, or security guard because their educational degree and these experiences are not transferable. In many cases, your skin color and accent become a barrier. To rebuild a desirable professional career may take years of school and experience. While abroad, many immigrants continue to send money home to support siblings, parents, and extended family members who need school fees, medical expenses, and funeral contributions. Since we migrated from a communal societal structure, community expectations remain strong as they determine our dignity. This contributes to limited savings opportunities.
Amid these challenging experiences, tribulations, and unpleasantness, many continue to hold strong, believing that these difficulties are only temporary and that one day they will return home to enjoy their hard work, which will show that their sacrifice was worth it. In the interim, investing in property or building a house in Africa becomes a safe haven that will eventually provide comfort. Owning this property would eventually promise a future where dignity is restored, where old age is not spent in isolation, where one’s life story has a visible conclusion in the present, and where loved ones are present.
Emotional Split and the Risk of Returning
Many of us realized that we had spent more years abroad than in our respective countries. Many may project the difficulties they may encounter in adjusting if they move back to their respective countries. They may not have the family, social, or community support they can relate to after spending most of their lives abroad. They may not be African enough for the people back home in their respective countries, and they may not be fully American or European enough in their adopted homes. In other words, the place you left behind is not the same, and the new accommodation does not fully claim you because you are viewed as others. So, you are living in between two worlds. The emotional experience of living between these worlds is confusing and sometimes painful, and it can be difficult to find a true sense of belonging. For many, this in-betweenness brings both pride in what has been achieved and a sense of loss for what has changed or can never be recovered. If you ever feel alone in this struggle, know that many others share the same mix of uncertainty, longing, and hope.
Decision to Return
On the other side of the argument, the hope of returning is an optimistic feeling, especially for those who have had difficult lives abroad, particularly those who work in a profession that is physically demanding and poorly paid, even though they might hold a college degree or prior experience in high-skilled jobs from their respective countries. The experience of exclusion also influences the decision to relocate to Africa. African immigrants experience racism and discrimination not only institutionally or systematically, but are also socially excluded from other people of color because of their African origin. Coming from a communal lifestyle to an individualist society may be isolating and lonely for many African immigrants, and this may result in limited assimilation in a new country they call home. The loss of cultural connection, the lack of social safety networks, and the hostility or alienation they experience from others are part of the challenge African immigrants in the diaspora face, which intensifies the decision to return home. Other benefits that may entice immigrants to move back home for retirement include cultural comfort, familiarity with the language, social authority and respect, support from extended families, community recognition, and, with the high exchange rate, the domestic help is affordable.
Challenges of Returning or Retiring Back Home
Many immigrants who plan to return home sometimes think of home as still frozen in time, as it was when they left it. But there is a difference between the idea of home and the reality encountered at the time of relocation. There are daily frustrations that most often affect quality of life, including power outages, water shortages, and poor road conditions. They are not exempt from the everyday struggles of every citizen, including pollution, navigating changes in social norms, and political instability. Relatives you may have regularly supported financially while abroad, most likely continue to expect the continuation of such support without understanding your limited income. Family members who once had a harmonious relationship may expose their other side by clashing with you when the financial support you once provided dwindles or eventually stops. The privacy and independence afforded by living abroad may be eroded as relatives’ demands become more pressing and feel repressive. Healthcare challenges and infrastructure are the leading challenges, especially for retirees who decided to relocate back home. The reality is a lack of access to high-quality health care adequate to address the health challenges retirees face as they age. Even though there are clinics and hospitals, they may not be able to provide the standard of care many retirees are used to receiving in the United States or Europe, especially during medical emergencies. There is also the factor that adult children do not want to relocate or move back with their parents because they are already establishing their own lives or have future plans. Then, immigrants’ parents have to confront the reality of emotional proximity to their children and grandchildren.
Deferred Living and Its Cost
The discussion of returning home was an open debate among the African immigrant community before the existence of social media. At the time, the conversation usually takes place in gatherings such as religious settings and among friends and families. Due to access to social media, the debate has become a recurring topic among fellow immigrants and, in many cases, among the children of immigrants, challenging or defending their parents’ decision to invest in building a house in their respective countries in Africa, whether as a vacation or retirement home. The acquired property becomes a symbol of dignity in a world that often disregards immigrants and the respect they deserve. It proves that the journey, the sacrifice, and the suffering matter and are justifiable. Erecting a mansion or a house back in our respective countries, when in some cases many members of our immigrant community can barely afford to live in America or in Europe, is a response to displacement.
Question to Ask:
At what cost and what are we willing to give up to achieve this dream?
Deferring decent living is normalized, and joy is postponed!
The rest is irrelevant, and health is sacrificed!
Stories That Complicate the Dream
Many African immigrants work multiple jobs and snatch every possible overtime hours available, with limited time to rest, trading both physical and mental well-being, and live in unsuitable conditions just to contribute every dollar saved to their future dream of owning properties in their respective countries. The thought of investing in a retirement account in their host country is unforeseeable to many members of our community. Immigrants with this type of mindset convince themselves that suffering is presently acceptable because the future is promising without acknowledging that tomorrow is not guaranteed.
There are many stories of African immigrants who work extremely long hours — sometimes up to 16 hours a day — often at the expense of their health and well-being. Some live in overcrowded or cramped housing conditions while sending nearly all their savings back home to build large houses or mansions. In many cases, these are homes they rarely visit or have never actually lived in. Because they remain abroad, they often have to hire caretakers to maintain the properties.
I once met a young professional whose parents are from Nigeria, and her determination to pursue a PhD deeply impressed me. I expressed to her how proud her parents must be of her ambition and achievements. She gently responded that both of her parents had passed away. She shared that her only close family member is her brother, who is autistic, and that she is his primary caregiver. As our conversation continued, she spoke about how hard her father worked while living in the United States. He had spent years building a retirement home in his village back in Nigeria, but sadly never lived long enough to enjoy it. He rarely took time to rest; he was always focused on work and responsibility. After his passing, his body was returned to the village, and he was buried in the very house he built for retirement. When I asked who would inherit the family home, she explained that she has no intention of returning to Nigeria to claim the property. Her priorities now are centered on her academic journey and caring for her brother.
In another tragic story, a 43-year-old man died alone in the U.S. after years of exhausting labor to build a nine-bedroom house back home. After his death, his family sold the house because it was too large to maintain. These stories raise difficult but necessary questions about sacrifice, health, and balance.
We sometimes believed that moving back home from an individualistic society to a communal society would help eliminate the loneliness we felt in the Western world, and someone would always be available in case of an emergency. I recently heard of a Nigerian immigrant who left his family, including his wife and his grown children, to move back home and visit America as time permits. He was recently found alone in his locked apartment with a stroke after spending days without being discovered. The door to his apartment has to be broken down to get in. In America, calling 911 could have gotten him immediate help, since his wife would be at home with him. The communal safety net he imagined did not materialize.
In another case, a Nigerian man returned home after 25 years of working in America. The man was abused for nearly a year by his own siblings, whom he thought would be there to care for him. His daughter in America has to return to Nigeria to rescue her father. She found him in a state of neglect, lost weight, and was living in filth.
Shame, Capitalism, and Legacy
How do capitalism and immigrant pressure to achieve this goal normalize extreme self-neglect?
What role does shame play in how immigrants discuss struggle?
How can African communities build healthier definitions of legacy?
I have come across many Nigerians in the diaspora who would rather stay in a hotel instead of staying in their own houses when they visit Nigeria due to safety or the fear of being abducted by criminals as a way to extort money from them and their families. I have also come across many African immigrants who have already built houses back home but later found out that it has become a burden because they no longer want to permanently move back home due to old age and the need for health care. For some, the house has become a burden, and they seek to get rid of it by selling it, knowing that their American-born children show limited or no interest in inheriting the property. These are the stories that will not be reported publicly or shared openly on social media.
Where is Home Anyway
In conclusion, many of us migrated to America, Canada, and Europe for various reasons; some came as refugees due to displacement, others for economic opportunities, educational purposes, family reunification, and more. The choice to build or retire back in our respective countries should not be viewed as unwise or wasteful. The decision is shaped by history, emotional connection, identity, and a longing for connection through cultural familiarity. But the question is: at what cost, and should we sacrifice our health, our relationship with our immediate family, and our chance to fully participate in presence? For many of us in the diaspora, home becomes divided and more complicated as we neither belong here nor there. Home may not be something that we permanently lose or potentially discover. Home may be something we engage in on a daily basis, the community we build, the daily rituals, in the shared diverse dialects over potluck, and in a space where our humanity is fully appreciated and acknowledged. In the end, home is not where the structure stands; home is a place of peace where your heart, harmony, and sense of belonging reside.
As we continue our journeys, let us remember that we do not need to wait for the perfect time or place to foster belonging and well-being. We can begin wherever we are, reaching out to others and nurturing supportive communities in our present surroundings. By cherishing the connections around us and caring for both our health and happiness, we honor our stories and create spaces where we all can thrive. We are called to recognize that real legacy and dignity are found not only in physical homes but also in the communities we build and the lives we touch, no matter where we are in the world. Together, let us be the architects of belonging, supporting one another as we shape homes of hope and connection.