14,417 Medical Laboratory Scientists left Nigeria over the past five years. According to an article published by The Punch, over 4,504 departed in 2023 alone, while by the end of 2024, the total had risen to 10,697.

The question is simple:

Why is this happening?

Good day to every NIMELSSITE out there.

I’m Olamiposi Banwo, a BMLS student from Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ogun State. Tonight, I’ll be sharing my perspective on the topic:

“Japa after BMLS/MLSD: Is it a national betrayal or a personal breakthrough?”

And spoiler alert: I believe it is a personal breakthrough.

First Things First: Can You Betray a Country That Has Failed You?

With all due respect, you cannot betray a country that has already betrayed you.

Medical Laboratory Science students work and toil day and night in school, burning the midnight candle, learning laboratory techniques, mastering procedures, and preparing themselves to become professionals who will ultimately serve a country that sometimes cannot provide the most basic laboratory supplies.

We train like Lab Avengers, but we're sometimes expected to save lives with broken microscopes, inadequate equipment, and expired reagents.

That contrast is difficult to ignore.

We are trained to operate at a professional standard, yet the system we are entering does not always provide the environment necessary for us to practice at that same standard.

And then there is the issue of recognition.

How many of us actually knew what Medical Laboratory Science was before applying for the course?

I certainly didn’t.

Most Nigerians can tell you what a doctor does. Most can tell you what a nurse does. But mention Medical Laboratory Science, and suddenly you’re explaining your entire degree at a family gathering.

Yet laboratory scientists are an essential part of healthcare. Diagnosis, monitoring, screening, transfusion services, microbiology, histopathology, chemical pathology, molecular diagnostics—the laboratory touches almost every part of modern medicine.

So why does it sometimes feel like we are treated as an afterthought?

Then We Have to Talk About Pay

Let’s talk money.

On average, Medical Laboratory Scientists in Nigeria earn relatively low salaries compared with professionals doing similar levels of training and responsibility. Meanwhile, in countries such as the UK and Canada, laboratory professionals can enter the workforce at considerably higher salary levels.

For example, entry-level biomedical science roles in the UK can fall within the £25,000–£30,000 range, while entry-level laboratory roles in Canada can reach approximately CAD $60,000–$85,000, depending on the profession, province, employer and level of certification.

When converted into naira, those figures look almost ridiculous compared with what many Nigerian laboratory professionals earn.

But the point isn't simply that “abroad pays more.”

The bigger question is:

What are you getting in return for your labour?

Because salary is only one part of the equation.

Or Should We Talk About Infrastructure?

Laboratories require infrastructure.

You need functioning analyzers. You need reliable reagents. You need proper maintenance. You need calibration. You need quality control. You need uninterrupted power. You need trained personnel. You need modern diagnostic technology.

And sometimes, Nigerian laboratories simply do not have enough of these things.

I know of someone who was diagnosed with hypertension, only for it to later become apparent that they had chronic kidney disease.

That kind of situation highlights why accurate laboratory testing matters. A laboratory result is not merely a number printed on paper. It can determine whether a patient receives reassurance, treatment, further investigation—or the wrong clinical direction entirely.

In better-resourced systems such as the UK and Canada, laboratories generally have stronger infrastructure, more extensive automation, structured quality-management systems, continuing professional development and established accreditation frameworks.

The contrast can be summed up rather dramatically:

In Nigeria, you may find yourself trying to deliver precision medicine with minimal supplies. Abroad, you may find yourself working with precision technology designed to make that precision possible.

And honestly?

That difference matters.

Then There’s Staffing and Career Progression

Another major issue is staffing.

Chronic understaffing can mean higher workloads for individual scientists. You may find yourself multitasking across several responsibilities because there simply aren't enough hands.

Sample preparation? You.

Reagent preparation? You.

Bench work? You.

Documentation? You.

And before you know it, you're doing the work of three people while being paid for one.

Burnout becomes almost inevitable.

Now imagine “Japa-ing” and entering a system where your professional role is more clearly defined.

In the UK, biomedical and clinical scientist career pathways are structured and regulated, including routes regulated through the Health and Care Professions Council (HCPC).

In Canada, medical laboratory professionals are commonly certified through the Canadian Society for Medical Laboratory Science (CSMLS) and regulated according to provincial requirements.

You can also encounter structured working hours, paid leave, pension arrangements, shift-related compensation, continuing education and clearer career progression.

The exact conditions vary by employer and jurisdiction, of course, but the broader point remains:

There is a professional ecosystem built around laboratory science.

And that is something many Nigerian scientists are looking for.

What About Research?

This one hurts a little.

Nigeria has brilliant scientists. We have brilliant students. We have brilliant ideas.

But research needs money, equipment and infrastructure.

Some advanced areas of laboratory science—particularly areas such as molecular diagnostics, genomics and bioinformatics—require expensive equipment and highly specialized expertise.

In some Nigerian research settings, access to advanced sequencing and molecular technologies remains limited, meaning certain samples may have to be sent outside the country for specialized testing or sequencing.

And there is something particularly ironic about this.

Some of the people leading research and advanced scientific work in Nigeria had to leave Nigeria to acquire the training, experience and exposure required to do that work.

Which brings us right back to the question:

If leaving creates the opportunity to become better at what you do, is leaving really the problem?

So, What Does Japa Actually Mean for the Average Scientist?

For many people, the Nigerian experience can look something like this:

Underpaid.

Overworked.

Under-equipped.

Under-recognized.

You're hustling harder for less.

Meanwhile, moving abroad can potentially mean:

Better infrastructure.

Higher earning potential.

Structured career pathways.

Professional development.

Greater access to technology.

In other words, a better environment to actually practise the laboratory science you spent years learning.

And that brings me to what I call the Justice of Japa.

You are not necessarily choosing to abandon your country.

You may simply be choosing to upgrade.

To move somewhere that values your skill, invests in your growth, gives you access to better equipment and allows you to breathe.

Education Is an Investment

As a student who has spent blood, sweat and tears perfecting the craft of Medical Laboratory Science, I believe you are not selfish for wanting a better future.

Whether that future involves:

- Better laboratory equipment

- Better pay

- Better working conditions

- More professional recognition

- Better research opportunities

- More advanced technology

- Or, honestly, just reliable Wi-Fi

You are allowed to want it.

Education is an investment. You deserve returns on that investment.

Global mobility is normal. Scientists move. Doctors move. Engineers move. Researchers move. Nurses move.

Wanting better opportunities isn't automatically selfish.

We're not selfish. We're self-aware.

We're not abandoning ship.

We're upgrading to a cruise.

But What About the “National Betrayal” Argument?

Now, let's address the other side.

There is a narrative that says:

“You're abandoning your country when it needs you most.”

And to be fair, Nigeria does need trained and passionate professionals.

But we also have to ask a difficult question:

Is Nigeria nurturing the people it expects to stay?

If professionals are underpaid, overworked, poorly equipped and frequently undervalued, it becomes difficult to tell someone that leaving is morally wrong simply because the country needs them.

Think about it this way:

If you stayed in a relationship where you were constantly ignored, unsupported and undervalued, would leaving automatically be betrayal?

Or could it simply be survival?

That is the Japa energy.

We aren't necessarily abandoning our country.

Sometimes, we're simply trying to survive the country.

Leaving Doesn't Mean Forgetting

And this is perhaps the most important part.

Japa does not have to mean abandonment.

Leaving Nigeria does not mean deleting Nigeria from your life.

You can leave, acquire new skills, gain international exposure, pursue further education, build professional networks and eventually use those experiences to contribute to Nigeria.

I can even use my own HOD as an example.

She left for the UK to further her education, gain more knowledge and experience, and eventually return that knowledge to the Nigerian educational system.

And there are many people in the diaspora doing similar things.

Some send money home.

Some mentor students.

Some collaborate with Nigerian institutions.

Some fund research.

Some return.

Some establish businesses.

Some build institutions.

Some simply become better professionals and bring that knowledge back when they can.

Leaving physically does not necessarily mean leaving emotionally or intellectually.

Sometimes, distance creates the opportunity to contribute in ways that staying could not.

So, Is Japa a Betrayal?

Maybe the question itself needs to change.

Instead of asking:

“Why are our scientists leaving?”

Perhaps we should also ask:

“What is making so many scientists want to leave?”

Because if thousands of professionals are independently reaching the same conclusion, perhaps the conversation should not only be about their decision to leave.

It should also be about the conditions that made leaving attractive in the first place.

Japa isn't necessarily a rejection of Nigeria.

Sometimes, it is a rejection of the idea that you must sacrifice your entire professional life simply to prove that you love your country.

You can love Nigeria and still want better.

You can be Nigerian and still seek opportunities elsewhere.

You can leave and still care.

You can build abroad and still build back home.

And you can want a better life without apologising for it.

As I like to put it:

Japa is not a goodbye. It's a strategic “BRB.”

So, to my fellow NIMELSSITES, remember this:

We don't owe blind loyalty to dysfunction.

Be proud of your dreams.

Be loud about your worth.

Seek the opportunities that allow you to grow.

And if you eventually leave, remember that leaving does not erase where you came from.

Because even if Nigeria forgets our value, we don't have to.

And for anyone who thinks we're abandoning our home, I'll leave you with this:

“Home is not where you stay. Home is where you're supported. And if Nigeria wants us back, she'll have to show up with respect, infrastructure, and maybe—just maybe—a steady light supply.”