On a flight to Santiago, Chile, Alma Asinobi found herself seated next to Jessica, a German passport holder embarking on a three-month adventure across South America. As the plane hummed above the clouds, the two struck up a conversation about their shared passion for travel—a passion that, as Alma would reveal, came with vastly different price tags. Jessica, with her itinerary loose and spontaneous, carried just a backpack and the freedom to explore the continent’s vibrant cultures, rugged landscapes, and hidden gems. All she needed to do was show up at each border, flash her German passport, and get stamped in—no fees, no fuss, no months-long waits.
Alma Asinobi, a Nigerian traveler with the same dream of visiting every South American country, had a different story to tell. “I shared my own plans with Jessica,” Alma recounted in a post on her X handle @almaasinobi. “But when I told her what it cost me just to get a visa for Chile—both in money and time—her eyes widened.” Jessica’s response was immediate: “That’s insane,” she said, shaking her head. “You should definitely do this trip. A lot of us don’t realize how hard it is for you to travel.” Her words, though paraphrased, left an impression on Alma, underscoring a truth she’d been navigating for years: the same journey can look radically different depending on the passport you carry.
So far, Alma has visited three countries in the Americas, with visa fees alone totaling around $400. For Chile, she had to surrender her passport for over ten days in Brazil, travel three hours for an interview, and wait nearly two months for approval. For Peru, she mailed documents, awaited clearance, and hunted for an elusive interview slot. Jessica, by contrast, has spent nothing on visas. For her, South America is an open playground. For Alma, it’s a bureaucratic obstacle course—one that will cost her an estimated $1,000 in visa fees by the time she’s done, plus $300 in administrative expenses and roughly 100 hours filling out forms, commuting, and chasing approvals.
“Two people, one dream, completely different paths,” Alma told us. “Jessica’s journey is easy breezy. Mine is stressful, unpredictable, time-consuming, and expensive. The difference? The colors of our passports—hers German, mine Nigerian.”
The Hidden Cost of Mobility
Travel is often framed as a universal right, a gateway to self-discovery and cross-cultural connection. At Stakeholders Magazine, we’ve long celebrated it as a tool for business leaders, policymakers, and global citizens to build bridges and drive progress. But Alma Asinobi’s story reveals a stark reality beneath the glossy brochures: mobility is a privilege, not a given. The ease with which Jessica traverses borders is a luxury Alma and millions like her don’t have. “Our passports don’t just identify us,” Alma said. “They dictate the terms of our freedom.”
The numbers bear this out. The Henley Passport Index, which ranks passports by visa-free access, places Germany near the top in 2025, with its citizens enjoying entry to over 190 countries without prior approval. Nigeria, meanwhile, sits near the bottom, with access to fewer than 50. For Jessica, a trip to South America is a spontaneous decision. For Alma, it’s a calculated campaign requiring months of planning, significant financial outlay, and resilience against rejection.
The visa fees Alma pays are just the beginning. There’s the cost of gathering documents—birth certificates, bank statements, invitation letters—often needing notarization or translation. There’s the travel to embassies or consulates, which for Alma meant a six-hour round trip to secure her Chilean visa, plus days away from work. Then there’s the waiting—weeks or months of uncertainty, with her passport in limbo. Add courier fees, application charges, and, in some cases, “expedite” bribes (a reality she acknowledges in certain systems), and the price tag soars.
For stakeholders in global equity, these disparities should sound alarms. Travel isn’t just leisure; it’s a conduit for economic opportunity, education, and cultural exchange. When entire populations are priced out or delayed by visa regimes, the ripple effects hit hard. Businesses lose talent, universities miss diverse perspectives, and communities stay isolated. Jessica can jet off to a conference in Bogotá or a workshop in Buenos Aires on a whim. Alma? “I’d need to start planning a year in advance—if I’m lucky,” she said.
A System Rooted in History
Why does this gap persist? The answer lies in history, geopolitics, and economics. Passports emerged in the early 20th century as tools of state control, standardized after World War I. But their power to enable or restrict movement has always been unequal. Wealthier, stable nations—often in the Global North—forged reciprocal agreements, granting their citizens broad access. Germany, with its robust economy and diplomatic clout, reaps the benefits. Nations in the Global South, like Nigeria, face a different legacy: colonial histories, political instability, and economic challenges have left them with weaker bargaining power.
Visa policies reflect these imbalances, with stricter rules often imposed on countries seen as “risks” for overstays or migration. It’s a vicious cycle: limited mobility hampers development, which reinforces restrictive policies. Jessica’s German passport is a golden ticket because Germany’s global standing—its GDP, infrastructure, and international norms—signals trustworthiness. Alma’s Nigerian passport, despite Nigeria’s cultural wealth and economic potential, carries the burden of stereotypes and systemic distrust. “It’s not personal; it’s structural,” Alma noted. “But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”
The Human Toll
Statistics tell part of the story, but the human cost defies easy measurement. Alma described the anxiety of awaiting approval, the humiliation of justifying her finances to consular officers, and the exhaustion of proving she’s not a flight risk. “I’ve stood in embassy lines, clutching a folder of papers, knowing a single typo could derail months of effort,” she said. “I’ve watched friends abandon travel dreams because the process was too daunting.” Meanwhile, Jessica can book a ticket today and be sipping mate in Montevideo by the weekend.
Jessica isn’t the villain here—she didn’t design this system. But her initial obliviousness to Alma’s reality, until their mid-flight chat, reflects a broader ignorance. Those with powerful passports rarely notice the invisible walls others face. For stakeholders, this gap matters. How can we build a global economy or foster inclusive collaboration when the playing field tilts so sharply?
A Call to Stakeholders
The passport privilege divide won’t vanish overnight, but stakeholders can push for change. Here’s how:
Advocate for Reciprocity: Businesses and governments could lobby for mutual visa waivers, especially in regions like South America. If Chile and Peru opened their doors to Nigerians as they do to Germans, the economic boost—via tourism, trade, and investment—could be substantial.
Streamline Processes: Technology, like e-visas, cuts the need for physical interviews and mailed passports. Stakeholders in tech and policy can make these systems accessible and affordable, easing the burden for travelers like Alma.
Raise Awareness: Jessica’s shock and empathy show storytelling’s power. Stakeholders in media, education, and CSR can amplify these narratives, sparking dialogue on mobility equity. Understanding breeds support for reform.
Invest in Equity: Global companies could fund travel scholarships or visa assistance for employees and partners from restricted countries, leveling the field for talent and ideas.
Challenge Perceptions: Diplomats and policymakers should confront visa system biases. Why is a Nigerian traveler riskier than a German one? Data-driven reviews could debunk myths and push fairer policies.
Dreaming Without Borders
As their flight descended into Santiago, Jessica and Alma exchanged contacts, promising to share journey photos. Jessica would hop borders effortlessly, while Alma plotted her next visa battle. Yet their conversation sparked hope. “If more people like her—kind, curious, open—start seeing the disparity, maybe things can shift,” Alma told us.
For now, she’ll chase her South American dream, one hard-won stamp at a time. The $1,000, the 100 hours, the endless forms—they’re the price she pays for a passport that doesn’t open doors as wide as Jessica’s. “But they’re also a testament to resilience,” she said, “to refusing to let bureaucracy define my horizons.”
To our stakeholders: the world is smaller for some than others. Jessica and Alma want the same thing—to explore, connect, grow. The question is whether you’ll help build a future where passport colors don’t dictate how far they can go.
Story credits: Alma Asinobi
