Today I found myself thinking about all the anti-fraud campaigns we see every day. “Beera Ku Guard.” “Beera Steady.” “Tonfera.” Our weekly FinQuotes and SafetyFriday Campaigns remind us that fraud doesn’t only steal money; it steals trust. They remind us that fraud evolves every day, and so should our security.
I read them. I write some of them. I repost them. Yet I still lost UGX 2.5 million to a social engineering scam.
As we approach World Fintech Day and reflect on this year’s theme, “The Next Decade of Fintech: Infrastructure, Interoperability, and Trust for Inclusive Growth,” I have found myself thinking less about technology and more about trust.
It started with what looked like a consultancy opportunity with the Danish Refugee Council. The caller spoke confidently about the sector, mentioned people and institutions I knew, and called my office. My colleague checked with me before sharing my contact details, and I agreed because everything sounded genuine. I shared my CV, a proposal, my details, and later my National ID number.
The next request was for a Certificate of Good Conduct. They introduced me to someone who would process it quickly and send it by email. I was told there was a meeting waiting for me, so I cancelled my morning and focused on completing what I believed was the final requirement.
I paid the money and waited for the noon meeting. By 1:30 p.m., neither of them had called. I tried both numbers. They were off. That was when it sank in. I had been conned.
My colleague and I retraced every step. The email was from a Gmail account. The story of how they knew me kept changing. There was no request for proposals. The certificate fee made no sense. The meeting location was wrong. The LinkedIn profile had almost no history. Every step came with urgency and another reason not to slow down.
The signs had been there all along. The question I keep asking myself is not why I paid. It is why I didn’t do what I normally do. We have people who verify opportunities, question assumptions, and check organisations before we commit. Instead, I trusted the story and kept moving. That lesson cost me UGX 2.5 million and half a day’s work.
Fraud has changed. It is no longer enough to look for fake emails or suspicious links. Fraudsters study people. They learn what matters to us, what we are working towards, who we know, and what is likely to make us say yes. Then they build a story around it until we stop asking questions.
I wasn’t persuaded by technology. I was persuaded by a story that was designed for me.
Looking back, I also realised they contacted me at the end of the month, when calendars are full, targets are still being chased, and decisions are often made more quickly. Whether that was deliberate or not, it reminded me that timing is part of the deception.
I laughed. My colleagues laughed. My friends laughed. My children laughed. One of them looked at me and asked, “But how?” If this could happen to me, it could happen to anyone.
I hope sharing my experience helps someone pause, verify, and avoid becoming the next victim.
The writer is a Fintech Ecosystem Builder and Managing Director at FITSPA.
