Reflections on Greed, Gullibility, and the Illusion of Quick Wealth
I remember one of my friends screaming excitedly: “Big Sam in Zik Hall has cashed out at the top of his pyramid! He just bought a new car, a Volkswagen Golf!” We were in our fourth year at the University of Ibadan, and this so-called investment scheme was the rave on many campuses. Everyone was talking about it. People were doubling, even tripling, their money in days. Or so we were told.
At first, I was sceptical. The whole thing sounded too good to be true. I asked how the money was being made — where the so-called returns were coming from — and the answers I got were vague at best. My friend, who had been hounding me to join, broke it down: just invest X amount, recruit a few people under me (my “downlines”), and watch the cash roll in. The higher I climbed, the more I earned. “But where’s the profit coming from?” I asked again. Eventually, it clicked: the “returns” came from the contributions of those below. Still, I held back. That is, until Big Sam’s testimony. The man had bought a car! A real one! Something in me snapped. Caution gave way to excitement, and common sense packed its bags.
I put in ₦2,000 and got to work finding my own downlines. It wasn’t easy — my close friends were surprisingly immune — but I eventually managed to convince two people. Within days, I received twice what I had invested. It worked! I was ecstatic. But that joy was short-lived. Soon after, the scheme crumbled like a house of cards. No more money came in. I was lucky to break even, but others weren’t so fortunate. You’d think I’d learned my lesson. Nope. A few years later, shortly after I got my first job, I fell for another one. This time, I didn’t even get a kobo back. I kept the registration slip for years as a reminder of my gullibility.
The early 2000s were filled with get-rich-quick schemes. From Wealth Solutions to Silver Trust, most didn’t even pretend to offer real products or services. The “downlines” were the real product. Once new registrations slowed down and the scheme reached a tipping point, the promoters vanished — along with people’s money.
Some schemes, like Nospecto, tried to look legitimate by claiming to have actual products: in this case, petroleum products. They lasted longer but eventually folded too. I remember seeing a fuel tanker with a Nospecto logo only after their troubles had started. That image remains vivid in my memory. It felt like a last-minute attempt to prove legitimacy when all was lost.
Fast forward to recent years, and the schemes have only grown bolder: MBA Forex, Get Help Worldwide, Chinmark, Imagine Global, and, of course, the infamous MMM (Mavrodi Mundial Moneybox). While their models varied — some pretending to trade Forex, others cloaking themselves as crowd-funding initiatives — they all promised unimaginable returns. And people bought in. Individuals. Companies. Even professionals who should have known better. Then came CBEX, the latest disaster. Reports suggest that over ₦1.3 trillion (more than $800 million) has been lost. Can you imagine? I couldn’t believe Ponzi schemes were still around, but I was also not that surprised.
I often wonder — where is all this money coming from? Apparently, it’s not the poor who fall for these schemes. Most can’t even afford to. So clearly, a lot of money is sitting outside the formal financial system — under mattresses, inside nylon bags, buried in backyards. What a waste! Imagine what all that capital could do for our economy if it flowed through proper channels.
Some argue that Nigerians simply don’t trust the formal financial system, which might explain why they move toward dubious alternatives. But how does it make sense to hand over your money to an unregulated, faceless entity just because they promise miracles? We can say all we want but another scheme will emerge in a few months, maybe a year. A new name. A fresh look. A revolutionary pitch. And people will fall again. Despite the endless warnings from regulators. Despite the weeping faces of past victims on social media. Despite it all. Why? Greed, mostly.
Some people join these schemes fully expecting them to crash. They just want to be early enough to cash out before the music stops. For others, it’s a desperate gamble: they hope the crash comes after their turn to collect. The allure of instant wealth is just too strong.
Ignorance also plays a role. Many people simply don’t know how to assess investment opportunities. If you don’t have basic financial education, how do you know that a 50% monthly return is absurd? Without context, it sounds like a gift from heaven. But when compared with legitimate instruments yielding 10–15% per annum, the truth becomes clearer. But the irony is that even educated folks fall for it. Bankers. Lawyers. Civil servants. People who, by all accounts, should know better.
I’ve come to believe it’s less about education and more about mindset. Our society worships wealth, any kind, no matter how it’s acquired. We idolise success stories without asking questions. If someone goes from broke to baller overnight, we don’t ask how, we just say, “God when?” Many people are praying for their “e fit be me” moment. We’ve become a people obsessed with “peppering” our neighbours. Shakara is the name of the game. And when everyone is chasing that overnight success, Ponzi schemes thrive.
So, what can we do? The long-term solution lies in rebuilding societal values and trust, but that won’t happen overnight. In the meantime, we must push for financial literacy across all levels — from primary school classrooms to rural communities. Regulators must take grassroots awareness seriously. Tougher laws might also help, especially now that digital platforms and crypto are making it easier to hide the movement of money.
If you’ve fallen for a Ponzi scheme, own it. Learn from it. Don’t rush to double your money next time. Let your emotions catch up with your logic. Focus on reprogramming your mind for patience and prudence. If someone you know is a victim, don’t mock them. Educate. Encourage. Sometimes, good advice is all it takes to prevent the next crash. We all have a part to play in reducing the success of potential future Ponzi schemes. This is the way I see things today.