I went down memory lane last night, quietly, like someone opening an old box they’ve avoided for years. I thought about the hard times. The nights that felt too long. The prayers whispered with cracked voices. The days when hope felt like a luxury and then I paused and realized how far I have come.
Growing up, many of us were taught, directly or indirectly, that progress had one clear definition: Obodo oyibo. Abroad. White man’s country. A place where dreams are validated by visas and accents, where success is stamped by departure stamps and foreign currencies. To us, traveling out of the country wasn’t just movement; it was achievement. Proof that you had “made it.” Proof that your struggles meant something. So we grew up carrying that picture in our heads and with it came pressure. Heavy, silent pressure, pressure to leave, pressure to “do more”, Pressure to feel like nothing counts until you cross borders. And because of that, many of us walk around feeling like failures, even while surviving, growing, building, becoming but what if we’ve been measuring progress the wrong way?
What if Obodo oyibo can be anything? What if progress is not only about where you go, but how far you’ve come? Sometimes progress is leaving a one-room house for a slightly bigger one, still humble, but with more air to breathe. Sometimes it’s moving out of the ghetto into a more developed area, even if it’s still not “the dream.” Sometimes it’s having food today when there was none yesterday. Sometimes it’s sleeping without hunger keeping you awake. Sometimes progress is getting a job after years of rejection emails. Sometimes it’s finishing school when everyone expects you to drop out. Sometimes it’s learning a skill on your phone with borrowed data. Sometimes it’s choosing not to give up, again.
Progress can be as quiet as paying your rent on time. As simple as helping your parents with small bills. As brave as starting over after failure. As powerful as healing from things you never talk about. But because it didn’t come with a plane ticket, we dismissed it. Because it didn’t happen abroad, we are shrinking it. Because it didn’t look big, we call it nothing and that is unfair to you.
You don’t see the strength it took to survive what almost broke you. You don’t see the growth in how you think differently now. You don’t see the courage in still dreaming after disappointment. You don’t see the miracle in consistency. We are so busy chasing one version of success that we forget to honour the many ways we’ve already succeeded. Not everyone will leave the country. Not everyone will relocate. Not everyone’s breakthrough will look foreign and that does not mean your life is on pause.
Sometimes Obodo oyibo is comfort. Sometimes it’s stability. Sometimes it’s growth. Sometimes it’s becoming better than the person you were last year. So if you’re reading this and you feel behind, please pause. Look at your life again, slowly, kindly. Count the small wins you’ve been ignoring. They are not small. They are proof that you are moving. You are not stuck. You are not lazy. You are not failing. You are building. You are surviving. You are progressing in ways that matter.
And maybe one day you’ll travel. Maybe you won’t. But either way, don’t let anyone convince you that your journey is incomplete. Because Obodo oyibo can be anything. And sometimes, it is already within reach. What we rarely talk about is how comparison quietly steals our joy. Social media shows us classmates boarding flights, posting skylines, switching accents, announcing relocations. And even when we are genuinely happy for them, something inside us shrinks. We start questioning our timeline. We start wondering if we took the wrong turns. We ask ourselves, “What am I doing wrong?”
But life is not a race with one finish line. Some people travel early. Some people travel later. Some people never leave but they build lives that are rich in meaning, love, and impact. And none of these paths is superior. There were times when just waking up was an achievement. Times when surviving the month without borrowing felt like a miracle. Times when you had dreams but no strength to chase them, yet you still showed up. That is growth too.
Sometimes progress looks like saying “no” to things that once controlled you. Sometimes it’s walking away from friendships that drained you. Sometimes it’s choosing rest without guilt. Sometimes it’s learning to forgive yourself for not knowing better back then. We forget that many of us started from survival mode. We were not handed soft landings. We were taught to be strong before we were taught to be gentle with ourselves.
So when you finally get a small win, a new job, a better room, a stable routine, you rush past it, already thinking of the next big thing. You tell yourself it’s not enough. But once upon a time, you prayed for exactly this stage of your life. Pause and remember that version of you. The one who just wanted growth. The one who just wanted a chance. The one who just wanted things to be a little easier.
You didn’t imagine you’d have it all figured out by now, you just hoped you’d still be standing. And you are. Success is not always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet consistency. Sometimes it’s healing. Sometimes it’s choosing hope again after disappointment.
So if today your “Obodo oyibo” is stability, celebrate it. If it’s growth, honour it. If it’s simply not giving up, that is enough for now. Your journey is valid. Your pace is valid. Your wins, no matter how small they look, are valid.
And one day, when you look back again, you will realize that you were never stagnant. You were becoming. Because Obodo Oyibo was never just a place. It was always the hope of a better life. And in many ways, you are already living it and if it’s a place for you, you will get there, some day. Just give it time.
