Romance Scammers

I had heard about these scams going on and wondered how gullible a person had to be to be sucked into the scam, but I have to tell you, I've found out that it's very easy!

The scammer takes on the identity of a perfect professional person, nice picture in place and nice but sparce details about themselves but what is paramount is that they wish to meet a person who just wants to be loved and they are very quick to commit to a life long relationship.

But how is one to protect themselves from these scammers? How does one identify them?

First thing is that most of them can't spell for toffee! It's strange but when a so-called 'engineer can't even speall 'sweet' or 'gorgeous' or 'beautiful' then there is a problem there, no so?

Second, they are very quick to want to get you off the dating site or professional site on which you met, they either want you on hotmail, yahoo or this new email site ymail. Be very careful when someone states that they feel that you'd be able to chat better with them on your personal email.

Third, ok, you've moved to private email, they start to flood you with a lot of questions, asking about your life, your job etc. Please don't be flattered that they are interested in you. they are just trying to source you out, see if you're worth playing the game with.

Fourth, they are very quick to suggest and agree to any plans of long term relationship. They use a lot of 'baby, sweetie, darling' and all that jazz that we unfortunately love to hear from the person we think loves us most. My dear, wake up, it's all a lie!

Fifth, once you're well hooked, that's when the demands start and note, they have international numbers, so they will have a number say like T-mobile which offers reduced tariff for roaming but if they claim to be white, they will never have a webcam, they will always claim a reason why it's not working but they will ask you to put yours on and if you're not careful, you may fall into strip teasing for a group of perverts! (This is why having Jesus in your life makes the difference!) LOL

Then, if they manage to call you, they usually have a jacked up accent which they claim is American or British, don't fall for this, always ask questions and you'll find that their phone suddenly runs out of cedit and so they can't call. They try everything to get you to call them so that their scam is cost effective.

So what else can you do to be sure that you're not talking to some fake ass scammer? Go online, use their instrument against them! Check their names, email addresses and you'll be sure to discover that they come up on some scammer website, try and find out details from them; things like schools, degrees, simple colloquialisms of whatever culture they claim to be from and insist they come online with a webcam. They usually either run off or stupidly keep trying to get you to fall in line. Now that's when you have my permission to go on the last thing.

Go crazy, gangsta mad on them; curse them to the tenth generation, tell them how their scam will send them to jail! However, that is the omota way (forgive me, I'm still trying to work my issues out) The Lord help me.

The better way, is to get them arrested. Now I haven't been able to find out what to do yet, I'm asking for advice from professionals who deal with these guys from hell because I too, have an 'American'(scammer) on my hands and I'm hoping I can 'darling, dear' him into jail. So keep an eye out for part two.

Here is a taste of what damage these guys can do if you don't protect yourself. However, before seeing that clip, here is a taste of my omota version on one of such scammers who came on my radar. Learn from this

From: Me
To: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com) The Scammer
Re: Re: hello gorgeous!

Chei!


Dem take una curse me?! Another scammer! Look I be original omo Eko! You should be ashamed of yourself! Using another person's picture to be lying and cheating people. God will punish you and your entire family! You sorry excuse for a human being!

You know how to hack computers and steal people's identities and yet you can't spell for toffee! Olodo! Ode! Oponu! You've seen mugu that you'll now mail and say your stupid mother is dying. God punish your mother and father, idiot!

You will never prosper, all your family will be destroyed. May you and all your sisters, aunties and female cousins suffer pain 1000 times worse than the one you cause women with your jibiti! 419 buruku! Ko ni da fun gbogbo idile e, Alakori, olodo rabata!

If you mail me again, may amadioha thunder your head! It will never ever be good for you, you evil beast. Hello gorgeous ko, o ti ri didirin abi? Ole oshi!

Gerrout off my mail jo! Iwo eniti o ni da fun mo lailai yi, ma ko ori buruku e bami jo!

PS: and yes I've just schooled you in how to abuse someone and STILL BE ABLE TO SPELL! OLODO OSHI!


From: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com)
To: Me
Sent: 13 August 2012 10:38:23

Gdmrng Abi,

How re you doing,i trust ur good n all is well with you? And thanx for getting back to me,i really do apreciate you. And hows ur family,i trust everyone is fine.When i call,i'll tell you anything u want to know about what u asked me but above all am a loving person to be with n i hope ure the same., And dont worry about ur no,i will definately keep it safe.......What i belive av gotton myself into is actually what i love n av been serching for n i thank God av found you....lol. I will call u soon,take care of urself n av a blessed day.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


From: Me

Sent: 13 August 2012 00:46:48

To: williamstokunbo@ymail.com

Hello Tokunbo,

It was nice to read back from you. I hate it myself when I've put out there and the person doesn't bother to respond to me.

Its weird how many names that site seems to have. It really opens up avenues for confusion. Well tell me about yourself,what you're up to, what you do, you know stuff people say to each other when they first meet. I will give you my number and you can call me when you're ready. But just a note of warning, I don't do early mornings, call me before 10am at your own peril!

So you my number wisely and carefully. Lol, I'm sure you're already wondering what you got yourself into.

Well buckle up and you'll find out! 07712346575(Obviously not my real number)

Abi  (Try to keep your first letter as real and chatty as possible)


From: Tokunbo Williams (williamstokunbo@ymail.com)

Sent: 11 August 2012 17:03:27

To: Me

How are you doing...i trust you are good n all is well with you n family. Thanx for leaving me ur email adress on just black singles,its really thotful of you,i would av been hurt if i av never heard from u again. I hope things re well with u generally n i guess ure enjoyin d wkend or do you work wkends? And hows ur family,i hope everyone is fine. I really do love to hear from you,talk to you n even meet up sometimes if its ok with you. My no is 07448953762,i hope u will call me n if u cant will u kindly send me ur no n i will call you....Hoping to hear from you soon,take care of urself n av a blessed day. Thots Tokunbo williams xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This guy didn't even try to give himself a chance but more fool him, not so? Well here's the video and after that I tell you: Go with God!   http://youtu.be/UwqdrB5AeOQ

Redefinition and Stuff: Romance Scammers

Redefinition and Stuff: Romance Scammers: I had heard about these scams going on and wondered how gullible a person had to be to be sucked into the scam, but I have to tell you, I've...

The Inequality of Borders

I am asking myself the question; 'What the hell am I doing here'? In the past months, I have found out that in this world I live in: money is King, degrees don't matter, talent does,crime pays and authorities don't like honesty.
I am so frustrated that the world is so corrupt and bad is good and good is just plain stupid, not being savvy. I am tired, disillusioned and hurt. Tears keep springing up in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall, for they will fall uselessly and then what will be the point. Tears never woke up the dead now do they?

Sight

Do you see me?

I stand clothed in perceived invincibility.

Waiting for prejudiced eyes to fix on me.

I became a virus.

Invading cultures of passing time.

Blinkered, your stench refusal permeates,

leaving an ugly dark stain on

the conscience of the young.

My question remains-

Do you see me?

I became a vision.

Igniting songs, passions, love-

seeking a new fellowship of unions,

forged far away from race, colour, gender, creed.

You stared past me,

resolute in your darkness, even

as many voices joined mine to ask-

Do you see me?

I became a truth.

Staring down lies of a thousand convictions,

revealing that beneath all that skin,

was genotyped blood, flowing

red and all the scales tipped

in the direction of the one

true question-

Do you see me?

I became life itself.

The air, the force,

the being, the question

the meaning, forty-two

all of creation waited bated as

I asked one more time-

Do you see me?

The changing winds whisper ‘in vain’.

Resolution glints in my eye

I stand, in wait as

My heart thunders. Waiting.

The truth clear,

you are blind, deaf but

you are not absolved.

I am still frustrated and angry. There is an unholy rage burning inside me and I pray God to quench it out for only Him can do this, only Him has the water to soothe and calm my soul. I pray God...

While Nigeria Mourns..

This sadness has been building up for a while, then this plane crash happened. When I heard that it crashed in the Agege area, I almost passed out because my family lives there in a top flat and our house is in direct line of the planes coming into Lagos! With my bowels churning, I called my mother's phone, it didn't answer. I was almost wetting myself when I tried again and the phone rang and I heard my mother's voice "Temitope, awa ko o, ope ni f'Olorun" I was almost weeping with relief, I spoke to them and then ran to the rest room.

As I sat there, thanking God, it suddenly hit me; some other people have been tossed into the darkness of mourning, my family's escape is another's misfortune. I started following the news and the more I read, the angrier I became. My friends heard me raise my voice like never before and I was so distraught I fell ill, but mine is minor. My sister-friend cries because her brother is no more and I am too afraid to call her. I am ashamed of my cowardice but what will I tell her? What words of mine will bring her comfort? I cannot bear to bring her more tears and grief. Also, truthfully, I am afraid of what will not be said, the rage, the utter belly wrenching devastation.

I cannot sleep for I hear voices screaming for the sweet mercy of a Saviour to make the passing painless, I hear some cry for a miracle. I close my eyes and all I can see is the sight of wreckage; of lives. My pain is nothing, inconclusive in the sight of a true sufferer's agony. I wish I could hold my sister-friend's hand. She has held mine in times past. It is quiet, I am quiet holding an unknowing silence for the forced out, for these people didn't choose to die, they were forced out of life...My mind says 'Enough' so I sit to write.  


The sadness in my heart collides with the rage in my belly and I am defeated.

I am defeated because lives have been snuffed, lives that will never come back, lives snuffed through carelessness, greed and avarice.

I am defeated because try as I might, I can't bring myself to believe that anything tangible, that will speak of brutal but necessary change is going to happen.

I am defeated because this crash defines a definite change in the lives of many, children without parents, husbands without wives, wives without husbands, parents without children and though people will tell them, time will heal them and they will go on, it is not true. They will always remember that a corrupt, deranged government took precious people out of their lives.

I am defeated because some people will be sacked, days of mourning will end, some ministers will be probed, some presidential tears have been shed but what will then happen? Things will go on as usual and the government will still cut corners with the peoples' lives, money will be carried off in Ghana-must-go bags and there will still be no electricity, clean water, good roads and a sensible and frugal approach to government funds.

I am defeated because the probability that this will happen again is likely. It happened with Bellview, with Sosoliso and now Dana but who knows what other airline is going to put people in an overaged vessel and risk lives, get lucky for a time and clap for the stuntsman who saved their necks and instead of learning lessons, will repeat the same again but only to fail and kill people trying to live their lives as normal as usual.

I am defeated because we have seen the plane but what about the buses on the motorway burnt down while police men wrestle with bags of rice? What about the cars, tyres blown off while the man carries a hole in his head from the assassin's gun and the woman is held down, neck strained, thighs struggling while the devourer has his wicked way.

I am defeated because Presidents will still have befuddled First Ladies, leaders stuck in a belief system that as long as they have plenty, they are better than those who have none. People, educated yet illiterate will shout protests in protection of men carrying divine orders to assault limpid followers as a sign of heavenly ordination. Female students will be defiled on air, rapists basking in the assurance of inglory,impotent criminal investigations and blatant denials of their debasement.

I am defeated because more of my country men will flee the land when the powers of who you know overshadows what you know. For I will see lawyers and engineers keep watch of cold empty halls at night while obtuse bosses with no sight of university walls sleep soundly in their council houses. Ladies with tattered degrees, lying on their backs resorting to the profession, just to keep body, the soul long dead. Time produced children tripping over their own names, confused by the longing for a heritage as far mythed like Atlantis.

I am defeated for tribe will still be in the place of race, the words of unsent prophets will be heeded more than the quiet voice of the heart. Man will still slap woman and rich will slap man for 'do you know who I am'? Protests will rise but fall once bales change bags, and 'occupy' will be used for photo moments, personal agendas, private beefs briefs and the opportunity to make rich with jollof rice and pure water. We are truly Esau's clan.

I am defeated but soon the winds of forgetfulness will blow on my people's faces and they will scramble for rice and garri, in exchange of the soul of their children's future. Touts will fight each other for one thousand naira and Mama Comfort's apeteshi, while politicians will smile richly into palaces, carrying briefcases of our progress to mortgage with indifferent maximum profit investors.

I am defeated because I fear that one day in the future, I will , like I am now, be sitting on my bed by midnight typing out my defeat again.

This rage in my belly jams into the bleeding of my heart. I am too exhausted to weep. Somehow though tears hit my hands as I sigh.

Hairdos: Mother, Grandmother and I-Part 2

Hello people. I know its been long, tooo long but this lack of a computer is really affecting me but I know I will prevail. So here is the part two of my true hair story that I wrote for O'Naturals. I hope you enjoy it and I wish you a very happy week. God bless


Hairdos-Lice


Saturdays came fast! My hair was loosened and washed every other Saturday. I really liked this hair time because the water cooled my head and I loved the smell of the shampoo. My happiness was always short lived because it also heralded the painful process of having my hair weaved. Grandma had given me a sample of her hair making skills two weeks ago and I knew I was in serious trouble!



At 4:45PM, Grandma called out my name. She had the adiagbon, the ilari and iyari (coconut oil, one toothed comb and hair comb) by her side. I put my stool down and reluctantly sat on it. And just like the first time, she clamped my head between her legs and started weaving my hair. As if this wasn’t painful enough, intermittently, she would release a foul blast of wind straight into my face and no matter how hard I wiggled, she would hold my head down and keep weaving.



I cried and cried till I was weak. My mother came out several times to ask her to be gentler but Grandma ignored her. The third time my mother came out, Grandma admonished her: "Look Mama Tope, if you come out one more time, I will leave her head alone and if you like carry her to those who charge you! I know you will look for any excuse to spend my son’s money but no one can say I didn’t try to curb your reckless spending!". At this my poor mother rubbed my back and went back into her room.



And so by the time Grandma finished my hair, my face was swollen and I looked defeated. I staggered to my parents’ room where my mother, on seeing me, grabbed me to herself. I begged my mother to cut my hair, but she said she couldn’t as it would only give Grandma another excuse to complain about how she disrespected her. And so the torture continued. At 4:30PM every other Saturday, just before Grandma weaved my hair, my mother would leave to attend the officers’ wives meetings she never used to have time for. The pain never got better and there wasn’t a time that Grandma didn’t pass wind. I thought it would never end.



Salvation came in the most unlikely way. I had moved into a new class for a new term when a little mixed race girl, Lucinda Ramos-Whyte, joined our class. I was the smallest in my class but when Lucinda arrived, I became the second smallest. Mrs Okondore, our class teacher, put us to sit together at the very front of the class so we could see the blackboard. For a couple of days, Lucinda didn’t speak to anyone and Mrs Okondore would sit with her at break time and go through the lessons with her. One day, Mrs Okondore asked us to share a book and read from it together. So we had no choice but to put our heads together and look at the book.We smiled at each other, I offered her sweets and by long break, we had become firm friends. I taught her all the games I knew like ‘ten-ten’ and ‘my mother told me’ and she taught me hop scotch and single Dutch skipping.



One week to my appointment with Grandma, Lucinda’s dad came to our class to speak with Mrs Okondore. He was very tall and skinny and he spoke very slowly. After he left, Mrs Okondore went around the class inspecting us and telling us what she had discussed with Lucinda's dad. Lucinda looked at me sadly as she asked me if I still wanted to be her friend. I threw my arms around her laughing: of course I would still be her friend!



As soon as I got home, I ran up the stairs into the kitchen where I knew my mother would be and announced proudly "Mommy, I have lice!" I didn’t care about shaving my head to gorimapa and hearing the gorimapa song being sung for me because Grandma would never have to weave my hair again. I could almost sense the relief in my mother’s eyes. That evening my hair was loosened and a scarf tied around my head. Mom bought some head lice medicine and took me to Oga Barber whose shop was down the street.



I felt no sadness when he cut my hair to a short comb through. He applied the medicine and combed the lice out. I sat waiting for him to give me gorimapa but he just smiled and asked me to stand up and go with my Mom. I looked up at her, puzzled as she led me back to the car. "This should be easier for you to manage now, abi?" I nodded happily. "Thank God!" She exclaimed. "Why don’t we go to Apapa Amusement Park next Saturday?" We both laughed happily as we returned home: lice free, hair free and definitely pain free.


Thank you Omozo for the opportunity to do this for your blog. I'm grateful and thanks for the editing. I hope you're doing sometjing with it, you have the gift babe. God bless xx

Sequel to Hairdos at O'Naturals

Hello people. Its a new year and things will be very interesting and God willing, I intend to approach each day with a spring in my step and a view to overcome.

Here's the sequel to my story about hair. This is a true story as it happened to me. Those who know me from childhood would recorgnise the name, though some other names have been slightly changed. My grandmother sadly no longer is with us but she made peace with my mother especially after my father passed away and my mum still kept on taking care of her, she hadn't expected it! Yes, she had been very very mean.

And I must give accolade to Omozo, who edited the original script to fit O'Naturals mode. I'm certain, you will agree with me that she did a mighty fine job.

All in all, Happy New Year! and if you're Nigerian, please join the protest, what our leaders are doing to our country and our people is wrong and unacceptable. Its time for things to change (as they say in church language- Power Must Change Hands!

God bless