It all started, I think, in 2021, at the beginning of COVID or maybe right in the middle of it. At the time, I was still in my home country, working on the thesis for my master’s degree. Like many students then, my main focus was simply finishing what I had started, without imagining that something would soon change the direction of my life.

That’s when I came across information about a scholarship for a master’s program in Italy. I had no real understanding of how complex the process would be. I applied almost instinctively, without a clear strategy and without any guidance, believing that the hardest part would be getting selected

At that time, a diplomat had opened the call and asked that Nigerien students be identified to apply for the scholarship. For us, everything seemed straightforward: once the application was submitted, we assumed the scholarship would be automatically granted and that the embassy would take care of the rest. Looking back, that assumption was naïve, but it was also understandable. No one had explained how the process actually worked.

That’s when the stress, exhaustion, and real struggle began.

There were more than eight of us, maybe around ten candidates in total. In the end, only three applications were shortlisted. Among those three, I was the only one who ultimately managed to secure the scholarship. Not because I was more intelligent than the others, but because I had unknowingly taken a step ahead: I had contacted many universities, sent countless emails, and managed to obtain several admissions.

When the embassy officially confirmed that we had been awarded the scholarship, they also made something very clear: it was our responsibility to find a university willing to accept us. That was the moment when reality truly set in.

The diplomat who had launched the call was reaching the end of her mandate. Time was running out. Only a few months remained before the scholarship would expire, and we were still far from having confirmed admissions.

On top of that, COVID had slowed everything down. Universities were operating at reduced capacity. An email sent one day could take two or even three weeks to receive a response, often without any consideration for the strict scholarship deadlines we were facing.

Every day came with new doubts:
Will a university respond in time?
Will all this effort actually lead somewhere?
What if the scholarship expires before I’m even admitted?

Gradually, discouragement crept in. None of us expected the process to be this fragmented, this slow, or this mentally draining.

Eventually, some universities responded positively and accepted our applications. We completed the required procedures and confirmed our status as scholarship beneficiaries. However, the other two candidates were unable to secure admissions before the deadline. Time ran out.

I was left alone.

The scholarship had been granted, but every remaining step was entirely my responsibility. For two consecutive years, I was the only student in Niger to actually benefit from this scholarship. I had applied to multiple universities: some asked me to complete preparatory courses, others required additional modules, all while being fully aware that I was working against a strict and non-negotiable deadline.

That experience taught me something fundamental: in international mobility, the real challenge is not only accessing opportunities but also being able to navigate the systems that allow those opportunities to become real.

This journey, more than anything else, shaped my understanding of international mobility and ultimately the work I do today.

This was only the beginning. In Part II, I’ll share what happened after securing the scholarship and how navigating administrative systems from the inside changed my perspective on international mobility.

Ismaël Dadis Adam
Founder, IDA International Mobility Consulting