More recently, the Nigeria-to-Canada route has had another driver, one that is propelled both by Ottawa’s doing and Abuja’s undoing—whereas the political and economic situation in Nigeria has not improved, many of these immigrants have mostly been drawn by a tweak to Canadian immigration rules.
Read: Canada has its own ways of keeping out unwanted immigrants
In 2015, Canada implemented a new system for taking in skilled immigrants, using a points-based calculation in which applicants are scored on the basis of their age, work experience, education level, and language skills. It aims to prioritize those who are most skilled and ease their entry into the country, while encouraging applicants to settle in less populated parts of Canada. Australia and New Zealand use similar systems, and British Prime Minister Boris Johnson, fresh off an electoral victory in December, has said he wants to implement one, too.
Canada’s, however, is the most advanced. According to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, the country has “the most elaborate and longest-standing skilled labour migration system” of its member states, and 60 percent of its foreign-born population is “highly educated”—the highest proportion in the organization.
Now Canada is expanding its effort: the immigration minister, Ahmed Hussen—who himself moved to Canada in 1993 as a refugee from Somalia—announced in 2018 that the country wanted to attract more than 1 million people from 2019 to 2021, equivalent to nearly 3 percent of the overall population.
The transparency of the system—Canadian-government websites outline how many points are awarded for specific skills, experience, or other criteria—lets potential immigrants see whether they could make the cut. Oni told me that once he had decided to emigrate, he had wanted to move to Britain, Canada, or the U.S., in that order, but prioritized Canada because the visa terms were less stringent (and added that he was dissuaded from the U.S. because of persistent reports of gun violence and police shootings of black men).
Read: The philosophical differences on immigration between Canada and the U.S.
Here in Nigeria, to say that the middle class has caught Canada fever would be an understatement. The subject of moving overseas has become a conversational icebreaker in Lagos, Port Harcourt, and Abuja. (The best place to have a heart attack in Toronto, one joke here goes, is in a taxi—because the driver is likely an immigrant doctor.) An entire economic system has emerged to help applicants navigate the bureaucracy: Online marketplaces are well stocked with used furniture and cars being sold by those making the move. In terms of emotional support, family WhatsApp groups are filled with relocation tips and prayers for those applying. When I started taking French lessons a couple of years ago (to help navigate West Africa, not to move to Canada), many of my classmates had signed up in order to garner additional points to bolster their applications, and to improve their chances of securing a job in Quebec, where French is the dominant language. All of this reached a crescendo in April 2019, when a news website claimed that Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau had asked Nigerian President Muhammadu Buhari to send 1 million Nigerians to Canada. The story, which was false, went viral.