Jan 20, 2008

I received a very promising gift on the New Year’s Day in the form of a short email, which read like this: Good day, I am Fatima Ahmed from Abidjan, Cote d’lvoire.  I request your urgent assistance in my investment plans in your country. I wish to invest in manufacturing and real estate management as I have inherited a whopping sum of eight million US dollars from my father who died recently. The money is in one of the banks here in Cote d’Ivoire, which was meant for my social security and for fruitful international investment. Would you be my business partner?"

I was so excited with this email and told my wife:
 
“I am going to resign my job and plan to be a business partner with this lady from Abidjan, Cote d’lvoire?”

My wife blew her whistle as if she was boiling camel's meat in a pressure cooker. “Don’t be a fool and don’t be a party to the game in fooling this world,” she said. “This is not a business proposal worth its salt but a trap to swindle your hard-earned money!”

But I was not to listen to her. I always found my wife talking negative about my business plans and always preferred my wasting my efficiency and energy in working for someone.

“You could have started a business venture at an early age, not any longer,”  she said. “Both your memory and eyesight are declining. Sometimes you fail even to recognize your own children. Shame on you. Don’t attempt the impossible.”

But I was not going to give up so easily. I responded to Fatima Ahmed, confirming my intention to be her business partner. Hardly a few days later I received her response:

“Thank you gentleman for accepting my business offer,” she wrote. “As an initial signing amount, please deposit a nominal fees of two thousand US dollars into my trust account earliest possible. This amount will be your 50% share in legal fees to be paid to our attorneys.” 

This time I did not wish to inform my wife at all. I knew for sure she would not approve of my business plan. I remitted the amount and waited for a response from Ms Ahmed.

Within days I received another email which read thus: Hi, I am introducing myself as Ms Sandra Joan, the only daughter of late Adams Johnson from Loma Togo, West Africa. I would request your assistance in a financial transaction. I got your contact from this site and I want to invest in manufacturing and real estate management in your country. I have three million five hundred thousand US dollars and require your assistance in investing these funds in a profitable venture in your country. I shall compensate you with 20% for your efforts in assisting me.

Now permit me to ask these few questions:-

1. Can I completely trust you?
2. Promise not to sit on my money when it reaches your country?

Consider this and get back to me immediately through this private box for further information on how we should proceed."

Even this time I presumed it would not be a good idea to consult my wife. In any case, I wrote a very beautiful message explaining my credentials to be a trustworthy and feasible business partner. 

The next day, when I was eating my lunch, my wife showed me a news item that appeared on the daily.

“These b****ds don’t even leave alone a lady to rest in peace,” she said out of disgust.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Moutarma Benazir Bhutto”

“But she is already resting in peace,” I said.

She showed me the news item, the title of which read: Fraudsters try to cash in on Bhutto’s death. According to the news an email message sent from an address registered with a South African web mail service offers a share of 92 million euros which was reserved by Ms Bhutto towards her campaigning expenses. The funds were moved recently to Pakistan through a secret security agency. While the shipment is in transit, due to the sudden and untimely death of the former Prime Minister, both the destination and the consignee of the consignment are not specified. The shipment has been sent to anonymous consignee and no one now would come forward to claim it. The email proposes that the consignment would be transferred to any person who has the business acumen and zeal to obtain a power of attorney to claim the amount”. 

“Not a small amount,” I told my wife. “Do you think I should go ahead and clinch this offer? After all, Ms Bhutto is no more to claim the shipment and we have a moral duty to fulfil her dreams of turning her country into a democracy.”

“Just shut your mouth and eat your lunch,” said my wife. “That is none of your business. Now that you are living in a so-called democracy, do not deprive Pakistan of a well-managed economy under General Musharraf !”

“Looks like you too have signed a deal with him,” I told her in total despair.

She just ignored my remarks and continued talking to her plate. Just then there was a knock at the door and I had a shock of my life when I opened it. There stood a police officer with his team. 

“Are you the person residing in this flat?”

“Yeah,” I said, while the words hardly came out of my throat. 

“Do you have a computer in your house?”

“Of course,” I said. “Would you like to check your emails, maybe?”

“No, thanks,” said the officer. “We are from the investigating squad trying to nab the fraudulent internet junkies who are sending hoax messages around, asking people to invest in their business. Our search leads us to your house and we have evidence that someone from your house is involved in this scam. May I please look into the data of your computer?”

As the officers marched into the hall, I could hear the sound of plate from my wife’s hand hitting the floor.