He had finally done it. After years of dreaming, scheming, and hustling, he managed to secure his flight out of Nigeria. He’d sold almost everything—his generator, his mattress, even his old Nokia phone—to afford the relocation. The dream was finally becoming reality. “Na obodo oyibo be this! I no fit suffer again!” Azeez thought as he sat in the plane, eyes glued to the clouds outside.

He landed in Turkey—his transit point before heading to his final destination, Canada. As soon as he stepped out of the plane, Azeez could feel it in his bones: this was it. His life was about to change. He imagined himself walking down the snowy streets of Toronto in designer jackets, eating burgers, speaking phoné. But for now, Istanbul would be a good place to catch his breath and flex small.

But, as they say, “village people no dey sleep.”

In Istanbul, Azeez found a cheap hotel and decided to enjoy his new life—just for the weekend before his flight to Canada. On Instagram, he uploaded pictures with captions like, “Finally out! Life sweet abeg!” He even recorded a video in the hotel room saying, “If you still dey Naija, just try japa. Na here things dey happen!”

Unfortunately for Azeez, he had skipped one crucial thing before leaving Nigeria: he hadn’t checked his visa carefully.

Sunday night, just before his flight to Canada, Azeez got a call from a strange number. The man on the other end spoke in accented English.

“Sir, you are aware your visa for Turkey expired yesterday, yes?”

Azeez’s heart froze. “How? My visa never finish! I get Canadian visa abeg!”

“Yes, sir. But your Turkey transit visa was only valid for 72 hours. You overstayed.”

Azeez blinked hard. He hadn’t noticed. All the weekend flexing and Instagram stunting had made him forget the small print on his visa. He rushed to the airport, hoping to explain himself to the immigration officers. But Turkey’s immigration wasn’t having any of it.

“Sorry, sir. You overstayed. You have to go back to where you came from.”

“Go back to where? Na Lagos I comot from!”

“Yes, sir. You’ll be put on the next available flight to Lagos. Your visa for Turkey is no longer valid, and we cannot let you continue to Canada without proper transit.”

Azeez almost fainted. “Baba, no be like that! See, na small mistake I make. Abeg make I just waka pass reach Canada!”

But the officer gave him a look that could melt ice. “Sir, please cooperate, or we will detain you.”

Azeez couldn’t believe his ears. He thought about all the Instagram posts, all the flexing, all the people in his WhatsApp group waiting for updates. He was about to be shipped back to Lagos—like a package that had been rejected by customs. Na only 72 hours he don spend for Istanbul, and now, he was heading back to Nigeria, tail between his legs.

The next morning, Azeez boarded the flight back home, seated beside a woman with screaming babies. “No be me again,” he muttered, staring out the window. He touched down in Lagos and couldn’t even announce his return. Na so him friends begin dey call.

“Guy, you don reach Canada? How e be for there?”

Azeez just sighed. “E cold well well for here.”