Esther Adeyanju: Why Do Nigerians Celebrate People Who Succeed Abroad?

There’s a peculiar joy that spreads through Nigerian social media whenever someone with an unmistakably Naija surname makes waves on the global stage. It’s the flood of green-white-green flag emojis, the proud comments claiming kinship with strangers, the collective celebration of success that technically belongs to someone else. Writer and communications professional Esther Adeyanju recently unpacked this phenomenon in a thoughtful essay that asks a question many have felt but few have articulated: Why do we do this?

Adeyanju’s reflection began with a spontaneous discovery—scrolling through Instagram, she stumbled upon an NBA highlight featuring OG Anunoby executing a spectacular dunk. The name stopped her cold. “Ogugua Anunoby,” she realized, recognizing the distinctly Nigerian roots despite never being a basketball fan. Like clockwork, she found herself in the comments section alongside countless other Nigerians, all dropping flags and claiming connection to this athlete who was actually British-raised and shaped by the US. The disappointment was brief but telling when she didn’t find the “my parents are from Nigeria” soundbite she’d been hoping for. Still, the instinct to celebrate remained.

But beneath the emoji celebrations lies something deeper and more poignant, Adeyanju argues. It’s not really about victory—it’s about longing. “Maybe every Nigerian surname succeeding abroad quietly reminds us what could also happen for us if we existed elsewhere,” she writes. The painful truth embedded in these celebrations is that Nigeria has never lacked talent. From barefoot kids playing football like professionals to young entrepreneurs thriving despite unstable electricity, brilliance is abundant. What’s missing is the environment that transforms brilliance into sustained possibility. The essay poses urgent questions for those building Nigeria’s future: When will excellence return home instead of fleeing? When will staying not feel like settling? When will Nigerian children stop viewing emigration as the ultimate success metric? Adeyanju isn’t criticizing those who leave—migration is natural and parents rightfully want opportunities for their children. Rather, she’s challenging Nigeria itself to become the kind of place where world-class talent can thrive without needing a foreign passport to validate it. Until then, we’ll keep dropping flags in comment sections, searching for pieces of home and quietly hoping our children won’t have to leave before the world recognizes their brilliance.

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