By Prosper Mene .
Success (pseudonym) never imagined she’d return to Nigeria with little more than her daughter and a suitcase of shattered dreams. Three years ago, the 32-year-old mother left her village in Edo State, lured by promises of a better life in Libya. Instead, she found exploitation, danger, and despair. Today, she’s stitching together a new future—quite literally—as the owner of a budding clothing business, a testament to her resilience and the power of second chances.
Success’s story mirrors that of thousands of Nigerian women who migrate annually, driven by poverty, unemployment, and societal pressures to provide for their families. “I wanted my daughter to have what I didn’t,” she says, her voice steady despite the weight of her past. In Libya, she faced grueling labor and abuse, a far cry from the housekeeping job she’d been promised. When the opportunity to return came via an International Organization for Migration (IOM) program, she seized it, arriving back in Edo State in late 2023 with her young daughter in tow.
The homecoming wasn’t easy. Returnees like Success often face stigma—whispers of failure or worse from neighbors who don’t understand the ordeal. “People judged me,” she admits. “They thought I came back empty-handed, but I brought back my life.” Financially, she started from scratch, her savings depleted by the migration journey. Yet, with support from IOM’s reintegration initiatives, Success accessed vocational training and a small grant. She chose tailoring, a skill she’d dabbled in as a teenager, and opened a shop in her community last year.
Now, her modest stall buzzes with customers seeking custom dresses and repairs. “It’s not just about money,” she says, threading a needle with practiced ease. “It’s about showing my daughter we can rise again.” Her business is small but growing, a lifeline in a region where economic opportunities remain scarce.
Success’s journey exposes a broader narrative. Nigeria remains a hub for irregular migration, with many women risking everything for a shot at stability abroad. The pressures—unemployment, gender inequality, and family expectations—push them out, while programs like IOM’s aim to pull them back with dignity. Yet, reintegration is a fragile process. Experts note that without sustained support, returnees can slip back into the same despair that drove them away.
For Success, the contrast between her past and present fuels her resolve. “I left because I felt trapped,” she reflects. “Now, I stay because I’ve found a way to be free.” Her story isn’t just one of survival—it’s a quiet revolution, proving that even in the face of setbacks, Nigerian women are rewriting their futures, one stitch at a time.
