Sorry My Friend, You Have Been “Dubia-ed”, By Favour Nneji Amako

I was sipping coffee with Tunde in the living room when the news caught my attention.

“Did you hear that, Tunde?” I asked, my eyes wide with excitement. “The UAE has finally opened its gates to Nigerians!”

Tunde raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I thought we were already allowed to travel there.”

With a conspiratorial look on my face. “Ah, but now they’ve added some… let’s call them ‘requirements’.”

Tunde’s eyes narrowed. “Requirements? Like what?”

I grinned mischievously. “Well, a non-refundable fee of N680,000 and a minimum account balance of $10,000.”

Tunde’s jaw dropped. “What?! That’s daylight robbery! Who announced this?”

I chuckled. “Our esteemed minister, of course!”

Tunde snorted. “And you believe him?”

I shrugged. “Why not? He’s a minister, isn’t he?”

Just then, the TV newsflash caught our attention. “Breaking news: UAE officials have denied the earlier announcement, stating that the tourist processing fee is between N60,000 to N90,000, depending on the length of stay.”

My face fell, while Tunde burst out laughing. “Haha! I told you so! Our minister was just trying to make some extra cash on the side!”

I groaned, slapping my forehead. “But… but… I already paid the N680,000!”

Tunde teased, “Sorry, my friend. You’ve been ‘Dubai-ed’!”

I shook my head, laughing. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to stick to my ‘Naija’ passport.”

Tunde grinned. “And I’ll stick to my ‘japa’ dreams!”

As we continued to banter, it was clear that our desire to travel abroad was a never-ending joke – a satirical commentary on the desperation of Nigerians to escape their own country, no matter the cost.

I took a sip of my coffee and shook my head. “You know what’s even crazier, Tunde? Some people are selling their fathers’ land and inheritance just to japa.”

Tunde laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I heard about a guy who sold his family’s ancestral land, left his well-paid job here, and ended up cleaning toilets in Europe.”

I chuckled. “No thanks to the dollar-naira exchange rate, right? You sell everything you own for a fortune in naira, and when you convert it to dollars, it’s barely enough to survive.”

Tunde smirked. “Imagine explaining that to your ancestors. ‘Yes, Grandpa, I sold your land and now I’m scrubbing floors in London.'”

I laughed, shaking my head. “And the worst part? Some people actually think it’s worth it.”

Tunde raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Here’s to living the ‘European dream’ – one toilet at a time!”

I clinked my cup against his. “Indeed. And let’s not forget those who resign from well-paid jobs here, thinking they’ll make it big abroad, only to find out they’re overqualified for every job they apply for.”

Tunde grinned. “I can see the headline now: ‘Former Nigerian Executive Now Top-Rated Toilet Cleaner in Europe!'”

I laughed. “All because of that exchange rate. Makes you wonder if it’s really worth it.”

Tunde shrugged. “Well, everyone has their dreams, I guess. But for now, I’m content right here, enjoying my coffee and laughing at the madness.”

I nodded, smiling. “And who knows? Maybe one day we’ll be the ones making the headlines – for all the right reasons.”