From Lagos to Zanzibar: How a “Friend” in Paradise Turned Out to Be Dead

People think Remote Work is peaceful — laptop by the pool, dollars rolling in while sipping iced coffee in Bali, Cape Town, or Lagos rooftops.

But nobody warns you about the part where your life falls apart during a Zoom call.

My name is Lawrence — full-time remote worker, part-time digital nomad, WiFi warrior, and collector of failed power banks.

For the last ten years, I’ve worked with AI startups, web development agencies, and eCommerce brands across the world. That freedom? It changed me.

But this particular trip? It almost ended me.

Left Lagos. Chased Freedom.

One sunny Monday, I woke up and said:

“I’m tired of traffic. I want palm trees. And fast WiFi.”

I booked a one-way flight to Zanzibar — the digital nomad hub everyone talks about on YouTube. I could already picture the Instagram caption:

“Work from anywhere they said… so I did.”

I arrived at a beachfront co-working space — coconuts as welcome drinks, surfboards everywhere, foreign accents mixing with Afrobeats. I opened my laptop like a king.

“Another day changing the world,” I whispered to myself.

I jumped into my daily remote stand-up meeting.

“Lawrence, how’s that automation sprint going?”

My manager asked through the screen.

“It’s perfect,” I smiled confidently.

Then — boom — generator sound. Internet gone. Video frozen. Slack notifications silent. Even my coconut looked disappointed.

I panicked. Ran outside. Searching for bars like I was hunting Pokémon.

While I struggled, a lady chilling in a hammock laughed.

“You must be new here,” she said.

She had blue braided hair and that calm confidence only people earning in dollars have.

“I’m Zara — digital nomad, SEO strategist, breaker of WiFi curses.”

“I’m Lawrence,” I replied, panting like I’d run a marathon. “Senior developer… on probation, apparently.”

She unplugged her portable router — handed it to me.

“Here. Just don’t get fired on Day 1 of paradise.”

That WiFi saved my job and my dignity. Owe her my life.

We became close — brainstorming ideas under palm trees, gossiping about remote work clients, drinking coconut mojitos after meetings. She was living the “work anywhere” dream — and teaching me how to survive it.

Weeks later, things got weird.

During a late-night debugging session, Zara whispered:

“Don’t you ever feel like… you’re disappearing? Like home is no longer real?”

I paused.

She stared into the ocean like it was keeping secrets.

“I’ve been running from my life for five years,” she added.

Silence. Waves. Clicking keyboards.

Next morning — she vanished.

Laptop at her desk. Passport gone. Router gone — the one that saved me.

A sticky note:

“Don’t chase WiFi and forget where home is.”

Later that evening, I finally got network and saw a Slack message:

“Lawrence, about your teammate Zara…

We regret to confirm she passed away in a surfing accident last month.”

My heart dropped.

What?

But… I’d been working with her. Laughing with her. Sharing data plans with her.

I checked the co-working member board.

Zara — listed under “In Memory Of”

Date: 11 months ago.

I froze. Felt cold in the Zanzibar heat.

Was she a ghost?

A hallucination?

A warning?

Reality Hit Me Hard

Maybe she saw a version of herself in me…

A nomad running from truth.

Chasing freedom, losing identity.

Connected to the whole world but disconnected from life.

That night, I booked a flight back home.

Because remote work is amazing — until it makes you forget where home is.

What I Learned About Remote Work & Digital Nomad Life

Here’s my truth, not the Instagram version:

• You can travel everywhere and still feel lost
• Burnout happens even in paradise
• Stable WiFi doesn’t equal a stable life
• Success feels empty if no one shares it with you
• You must define “home” before chasing the world

Remote work gave me freedom —

but Zara’s ghost gave me clarity.

So yes — become a remote worker. Live the digital nomad lifestyle.

Work from Bali, Zanzibar, or wherever brings you joy.

But remember:

Don’t disappear.

Home isn’t a place.

Home is the people who would notice if you went missing.

And someday, I’ll return to Zanzibar…

But not to run away.

To say thank you —

to the woman in the hammock

who taught me how to stay grounded

while floating through the world.