I left everything in my house including clothes.
For nearly a decade, thousands of Nigerians built lives, livelihoods, and communities across South Africa — until anti-migrant pressure forced them to abandon it all within weeks. Now, in an act that blends diplomacy with documentation, Nigeria is attempting something rarely tried: formally demanding compensation for what its citizens left behind. The effort raises questions older than any bilateral treaty — about belonging, legal status, and whether a nation's duty to its people extends across borders into the wreckage of their interrupted lives.
- Anti-migrant protest groups in South Africa set hard departure deadlines, triggering a mass exodus of roughly 25,000 African nationals — including over 600 Nigerians already repatriated, with hundreds more awaiting evacuation flights.
- Traders like Wilson fled with merchandise still on shelves and clothes still hanging in their homes, absorbing losses that for some represent nearly a decade of accumulated work.
- Nigeria's government is pushing back against the exodus as a foregone loss — systematically cataloging abandoned shops, vehicles, and properties to build a formal compensation claim against South Africa.
- The diplomatic path is narrow: South Africa insists many who fled were undocumented, Nigeria disputes that framing, and no clear legal precedent exists for demanding restitution on behalf of citizens who fled violence regardless of their residency status.
- On the ground, skepticism runs deep — Wilson doubts he will ever see a rand of compensation, and his pessimism is widely shared among those the repatriation flights are bringing home.
Oghodero Erejor Wilson spent nearly a decade building a clothing business in Centurion, South Africa. When anti-migrant protests swept through the country in recent weeks, he left everything — inventory on shelves, furnishings in place — and sought shelter near the Nigerian High Commission in Pretoria. By Friday, he was boarding a repatriation flight home, leaving behind an estimated $975 in merchandise alone.
Wilson is one of hundreds swept up in a sudden, organized pressure campaign. Protest groups demanding stricter enforcement against undocumented foreigners drew thousands of marchers and set explicit deadlines — leave by June 30 or face consequences. Though the protests were largely peaceful, isolated violence occurred. South African police arrested around 900 people on immigration and looting charges. The cumulative effect was stark: approximately 25,000 African nationals have departed, with more than 600 Nigerians repatriated and hundreds more still awaiting flights.
Rather than absorb the loss quietly, Nigeria's government is taking an unusual diplomatic stance. Acting High Commissioner Alexander Ajayi announced that officials have begun cataloging the businesses, vehicles, and properties abandoned by Nigerian citizens — asking those who fled to document what they left behind. The foreign ministry confirmed it intends to raise compensation claims with South Africa at the highest diplomatic levels, with all claims to be verified before any formal submission.
The legal terrain is murky. South Africa maintains that most of those repatriated were in the country illegally. Nigeria disputes this. Wilson's own situation captures the ambiguity — his residency documents expired in 2021 and he could not renew them, a circumstance that reads as illegal status to one government and administrative failure to another. Whether any nation can successfully claim compensation for property abandoned by citizens fleeing violence, documented or not, has no established precedent.
For now, the flights continue, the documentation continues, and the diplomatic conversations are just beginning. Wilson himself doubts he will recover anything. He is not alone.
Oghodero Erejor Wilson spent nearly a decade building a life in South Africa. He ran a clothing shop in Centurion, a city in Gauteng province, accumulated goods and furnishings, established routines. Then, in recent weeks, he abandoned it all—clothes still hanging in his house, inventory still on shelves—and fled to shelter near the Nigerian High Commission in Pretoria. He was afraid for his safety. On Friday, he was scheduled to board a repatriation flight back to Nigeria, leaving behind an estimated 16,000 rand, roughly $975, in merchandise alone.
Wilson is one of hundreds of Nigerians caught in a sudden reversal. Over the past several weeks, South Africa has been convulsed by anti-migrant protests. Groups demanding stricter enforcement against undocumented foreigners organized marches that drew thousands of people. Some set explicit deadlines—leave by June 30 or face consequences. The protests have been largely peaceful, though isolated incidents of violence against foreigners have occurred. South African police report arresting about 900 people, mostly on immigration-related charges and looting offenses. The pressure has been effective: roughly 25,000 nationals from other African countries have departed South Africa in response. More than 600 Nigerians alone have already been repatriated in recent weeks, with hundreds more still waiting for evacuation flights.
Nigeria's government is now taking an unusual step. Rather than accept the exodus as a fait accompli, officials are systematically documenting what their citizens left behind. Alexander Ajayi, the acting High Commissioner to South Africa, announced on local television that the government had begun cataloging businesses and properties abandoned by Nigerians. He asked those who had fled to provide detailed records of what they were leaving—shops, vehicles, homes, movable and immovable assets. The goal is clear: build a case for compensation.
Foreign ministry spokesperson Kimiebi Imomotimi Ebienfa told the BBC that Nigeria intends to raise the matter with South Africa "at the highest levels." The two governments will pursue the issue through diplomatic channels. Ebienbi emphasized that all claims will be verified before any formal request is submitted. "We have not severed ties with South Africa," he said. "We are still engaging them at the highest level. We will sort those details using our usual diplomatic channels."
The legal and political ground is contested. South African authorities maintain that those repatriated were in the country illegally. Nigeria disputes this characterization. Wilson's own case illustrates the ambiguity: his residency documents expired in 2021, and he was unable to renew them. Whether that constitutes illegal status or administrative failure depends on which government you ask. The broader question—whether a nation can demand compensation for property abandoned by its citizens fleeing violence, even if those citizens lacked proper documentation—has no clear precedent.
Wilson himself is skeptical. When asked whether he expects to recover anything, he said it would be nice if South Africa compensated him, but he doubted it would happen. He is not alone in that pessimism. The repatriation flights continue. The documentation continues. The diplomatic conversations are beginning. But for the traders and shopkeepers and homeowners now scattered across Nigeria, the prospect of recovering what they left behind remains uncertain.
Notable Quotes
I left everything in my house including clothes.— Oghodero Erejor Wilson, Nigerian trader awaiting repatriation
We have not severed ties with South Africa. We are still engaging them at the highest level. We will sort those details using our usual diplomatic channels.— Kimiebi Imomotimi Ebienfa, Nigeria's Foreign Ministry spokesperson
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would Nigeria pursue compensation for people it says were in the country illegally?
Because Nigeria disputes that characterization entirely. From their perspective, these are citizens who had established lives, paid taxes, ran businesses. The expired documents are a technicality, not proof of illegality. And regardless of status, fleeing violence is different from choosing to leave.
But South Africa was responding to public pressure about illegal migration. Doesn't that complicate Nigeria's claim?
Absolutely. South Africa would argue it was enforcing its own laws and responding to legitimate domestic concerns. Nigeria would counter that the enforcement became a pretext for targeting Africans broadly, not just undocumented migrants. The compensation demand is partly legal, partly political—a way of saying: you created the conditions that forced our people out.
What does Wilson actually expect to happen?
He expects nothing. He's being realistic. Even if Nigeria files a formal claim, South Africa has no obligation to pay. There's no treaty, no precedent. His skepticism reflects the gap between what governments say they'll do and what actually happens to individuals caught in between.
Is this about the money, or about something else?
Both. The documentation serves two purposes: it creates a paper trail for potential negotiations, but it also establishes a record. Nigeria is saying: we see you, we're counting the cost, we're not letting this disappear. Whether compensation comes is secondary to the act of demanding it.