She Lost ₦940k to a Ponzi Scheme — and Took Her Friend Down With Her

Amara* was 24 and earning ₦300k a month as an IT specialist when she moved into her first apartment — a ₦1.3 million-a-year self-contained flat. On paper, she was independent. In reality, she felt trapped. Rent swallowed most of her salary, and the economy left her with barely enough for herself. When her car broke down and the repair cost over ₦100k, she spent the rest of that month surviving on garri.

She wanted more and started hunting for extra income. Nothing worked. Moving back in with her parents felt like a different kind of trap. For a while, her only plan was to work hard and hope for a promotion. Then a friend invited her to an investment seminar — and everything changed.

Meeting Kamsi

At the seminar, Amara met Kamsi*, a woman around her age who dressed and carried herself like someone far wealthier. Kamsi struck up a conversation, and Amara opened up about her financial struggles. Kamsi told her she was a financial guru who could help her grow money fast, and that she wouldn’t charge for her services because she liked her. The lifestyle seemed to back up the offer, so Amara exchanged numbers with her.

A week later, Kamsi called. She said she worked with a company dedicated to growing people’s money, and that after hearing Amara’s story, they had chosen her out of millions of Nigerians for an open slot. She invited Amara to a weekend class that supposedly cost ₦50k — but Kamsi said she would cover it.

The class had only a few attendees, but the room was electric. Organisers congratulated them on being chosen and showed a slideshow of testimonials from people who had completed the programme and become millionaires. They promised a 10% monthly return on investments starting at ₦100k. Amara, excited and trusting Kamsi, handed over half her savings: ₦200k. She was then added to a group chat.

The first payout

Doubts crept in almost immediately. What if they didn’t pay? What if it was all a way to steal from her? She even called Kamsi to ask for her money back, but Kamsi assured her that this specialised investment plan was what funded her lifestyle — the same woman who had told her she’d been to London the year before. Amara stayed in.

A month later, in July, ₦220k landed in her account. Her doubts vanished. She put the ₦200k back into savings, bringing it to ₦400k, and used part of the ₦20k profit to treat herself — takeout, a thrifted dress from Instagram, and a little left over. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it felt like the start of a new life.

Encouraged by her own success and the earnings others in the group chat were reporting, she put her entire ₦400k savings into the business. This time she was told she’d made a bonus and was promised ₦50k in interest.

Cracks appear

The payout date came and went. Nothing. Kamsi had already explained that because the business worked with foreign products, payments could take time. Amara waited a week. Still nothing. Others in the group chat said the same, but admins blamed an international delay. Some members claimed they had been paid, which kept hope alive — but it was enough for Amara to find the business sketchy.

Instead of going to Kamsi, she went online and, through other people’s experiences, discovered she was in a Ponzi scheme. She called Kamsi and demanded the truth. Kamsi didn’t confess to wrongdoing, but said payouts sometimes came faster if you put more money in. She lent Amara ₦100k until her payout arrived and began pushing her to recruit people she knew in exchange for referral payments.

Amara knew something was wrong, but the chance to earn was still tempting. Three days after that call, ₦450k was credited to her account. She couldn’t walk away. For a few months she refused to reinvest — until life started beating her down again, and by October 2024 she was open to putting money back in.

Bringing Tobi in

Amara took Kamsi’s advice and looked for someone to recruit — someone who could handle a loss if it came to that, though she was sure it wouldn’t. That was how she involved Tobi*, her good friend and the only person she knew who worked for a foreign company as a software engineer. He never told her his exact earnings, but he lived in a three-bedroom apartment and had recently bought an iPhone 15 — enough evidence for her that he was rich.

She called him and told him about the investment opportunity, explaining the occasional payment delays and showing him she had earned twice and planned to put more in. Tobi was intrigued; he had been looking to start investing. She gave him Kamsi’s number, and he came on board.

For his first investment, Tobi put in ₦1 million. Amara was shocked — she knew he was rich, but not that he had ₦1 million to spare. Kamsi convinced her that any amount she put in would increase by 20% in a month, so she once again put all her savings in: ₦450k.

A month later, in November, Amara made ₦540k and Tobi made ₦1.1 million. Her parents also sent her ₦400k, leaving her with nearly ₦1 million in savings that wasn’t earmarked for rent. Tobi and Amara were on top of the world. People in the group chat were complaining that they hadn’t been paid for months, but that wasn’t her story — she believed she had hacked the system better than they had.

Tobi told her he wanted to make ₦500k, so he was going to push for ₦5 million. Giddy with his confidence, Amara put in her entire ₦940k savings, partly so she’d have money for the holidays. Their biggest investments would be their last.

The collapse

They invested the money so it would come before Christmas. Kamsi said she had a great feeling about this one — the foreign products were doing well, and they might earn more than the usual 10%. But more and more people in the group chat were calling the business a scam, and the owners started removing people from the group.

Despite watching it fall apart, Tobi, Amara, and a few others eagerly awaited their December earnings. Amara had planned to buy her parents Christmas gifts and get a small tree for her apartment. The payout day arrived and passed. This time it was Tobi who reassured her — he’d had delayed payments before and they had still come. Christmas came and went with no gifts and no tree. It was the worst Christmas of her life.

She called Kamsi in anger. Kamsi apologised and promised that when she came home, they would discuss extra interest on behalf of Amara and Tobi. The group chat was promised the same. Tobi remained calm: “International clients,” he said. “It happens.”

January came, and no one had been paid. Tobi finally started to worry. Amara called Kamsi, but her line rang out. She called throughout January. Then one day in February, Kamsi picked up. “What is it?” she asked, sounding annoyed. Amara had planned to shout but could only meekly ask for her money — if not the interest, then just what she had put in. Kamsi told her she was pestering her and that she had already promised the money would come. When Amara asked for an expected date, Kamsi said she didn’t know yet, promised to call back, and hung up. That night, Amara’s calls didn’t go through. She had been blocked.

Back in the group chat, panicked messages flew as members demanded payment or begged to speak with those in charge. Neither happened. Amara realised she had been scammed out of ₦940k — and had dragged her friend into it, where he lost far more.

A few days later, the group chat was disbanded. Tobi, who had been the calmest throughout, finally fell apart. He tried calling Kamsi, but she blocked him too. With no one else to blame, he blamed Amara. She begged for his forgiveness, but he stopped talking to her. No matter how many times she tries to reach out, he ignores her.

Worse, some of her friends began asking why she had stolen from Tobi — the story had spread. She was so embarrassed that she stopped going out with friends for a long time. Besides, she couldn’t afford it.

What she carries now

Looking back, Amara still feels foolish. She doesn’t claim trauma, but the word “investment” now triggers panic. She hates what she allowed to happen, and she hates that what was meant to change her life ended up putting her in a worse situation. She says she has learned her lesson — and she hopes that one day, Tobi will answer one of her calls.