In our series of letters from African journalists, novelist and writer Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani considers why Nigerians put their lives at risk and opt for dangerous routes to Europe when they fail to get visas.
Even the official route for Africans wishing to visit the West is paved with indignity.
I still have vivid memories of my first visit to the British High Commission in Lagos a little over a decade ago.
The swarm of sweaty applicants in the unending queue, many of whom had arrived as early as 04:00.
The battalion of whispering men who besieged me as soon as I arrived, offering to manufacture whatever document I required, be it bank statements or medical reports.
The fiery brouhaha that ensued from time-to-time over a newcomer's attempt to sneak into the front of the line.
Sometimes, it was simply an enterprising tout giving room to the person who had hired him to save a place.
Not every Nigerian was cut out for the strain of standing in the open for several hours.
Lashed with whips
Finally, at noon, a pot-bellied security man relieved us of our misery and opened the doors to the visa-processing section. "No rushing," he barked.
Those behind kept elbowing those in front. The strong continued pushing the weak aside.
Seeing their superior so blatantly ignored, the scrawnier security men lashed out with their short whips without caring which of us might be pregnant or too frail for that kind of physical abuse.
Yelps, wails, screams erupted from the crowd.
And yet, we continued to push our way in for a chance to get interviewed for a visa.
It did not matter whether you only wanted to visit the UK or if you intended to settle. The torturous process was the same.
All this was nothing compared to the commotion at the American Embassy just down the road, which had probably quadruple the number of applicants the British did.
But oh the joy when someone succeeded in getting a visa to Europe or America. Oh the outbursts of exhilaration in families.
Sometimes, successful applicants stood in front of their congregations during "testimony time" at church, to declare God's miraculous goodness in granting them a visa.
"The devil tried to stand in my way but I kept trusting that the same God who parted the Red Sea would do it for me," they said.
Inspired shouts of "Praise the Lord!" sprang up from the congregation.
Many of these people had not been granted an immigrant visa, only a visitor's visa that would expire in months. Yet they had no plans of returning anytime soon.
'Andrew, Don't Check Out'
In the 1980s, the Nigerian government tried, through a series of adverts on national television, to discourage its citizens from abandoning their country as the economy steadily got worse.
The "Andrew, Don't Check Out" adverts became quite popular, but I do not know that they helped to forestall Nigerians checking out in droves.
As we say in Nigeria, "Who no like better thing?"
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