Police officers now in terror, leaders bury their heads in the sand and even the bravest magistrates tuck cotton into their eyes as con masters knit lives bigger than the world out of their evil dimes as streams of tears flow behind unhindered. It’s the scariest inquest into Buwagi, a rural village, about 120 Kms from the capital- Kampala, and about 30 from Jinja.
Tucked away like a chicken hiding from a rainstorm, Buwagi village in Kamuli district used to be so quiet, you could hear a mosquito whisper. But lately, it’s become the unofficial headquarters of Uganda’s slickest con artists, youngsters whose fake dollar scams make you wish GPS came with a “fraud alert” feature!
In what feels like a drama written by a primary school dropout, these Busoga boys have turned scamming into a sport, and they’re competing like it’s the Olympics. Picture this: a kanaabe (car washer) in Kampala, minding his own business, scrubbing away at a muzungu’s car like it’s going to win him an award. Then, out of nowhere, he “accidentally” stumbles upon a bag full of US dollars!
Now, this kanaabe is no financial genius, but he knows dollar signs when he sees them. So, he runs to his beloved aunt, who’s about as sharp as a pawpaw. She doesn’t waste any time and within minutes, she’s exchanged some of the dollars for Ugandan shillings, bought herself a car, a house, and probably even a new wig for the village gossip sessions. She then returns to her nephew with the enthusiasm of a cat who’s found an entire fish market and says, “Eh, bring the rest!” But the kanaabe, feeling as slick as a watermelon seed in a wet hand, decides, “Nah, let me keep this gravy train rolling.” And off he flees to his grandfather’s waragi distillery in Buwagi.
When the real fun begins!
These guys start recruiting others like it’s a pyramid scheme, except, instead of detergents, they’re peddling fake dollar bills. They flash you a genuine $50 note to bait you in, then switch it faster than a boda boda dodging potholes. Before you know it, you’ve traded your hard-earned shillings for what-Paper that’s only good for lighting a sigiri.
I am in Kampala minding my business on a hard day when a close pal solicits my assistance to escort him on a journey that was to name poverty out of our entire life. It is in Kamuli, my place of birth and I am quick to flash my hand in the air in affirmation.
“ Some old, illiterate and barely traveled old man in Kamuli has genuine dollar notes stacked in a grass thatched house and he knows not how to use the treasure,” my Barber friend starts even before i set my car out of ignition.
People,I am a roused and wishing him to stop all the talking so we can get straight to the point t and hurry to meet our eternal wealth.
“ About how much money are we talking about?” I interrupt, voice unusually coarse while trying to hide my obvious anxiety.
“They are about six bundles of notes like this one,” interjects another person I have not seen all along. He stretches his hand with a 50 dollar note in it. I freeze. I have held dollar notes in the past and whoever has owned some can picture my situation.
I grab it from his loose grip, avoiding direct contact with him as I inspect the American treasure with visible signs of excitement written all over my face.
Before long, we are in Kamuli, via Isimba bridgr, particularly at the con masters’ abattoir. Off to a white mosque along the Jinja Kamuli main Road, I branch to ascertain the directions which I learnt later had been issued vaguely but on purpose. They are already a handful of eagle eyed boys looking like they are going about their own business. We are mistaken. These are here to analyse the situation and alert their colleagues waiting in prey.
Obvious signs of danger evident but only silenced by the allure of returning to Kampala with a sack full of dollars to address the biting credit crunch.
Under a huge tree, surrounded by thick banana and coffee plantations, there comes a bare-footed visibly malnourished young boy with yellowish hair and rugged clothes exposing most of his sunken body. He is supporting a visibly old and equally malnourished old man who he addresses as grandfather, walking stick in hand. They are here to exchange $60,000 dollar notes for the money they understand (UGX).
“ You will give us 40 million if you really need the whole pack of the notes,” The young one begins the juggle as he swings two 50 dollar notes bundles in the air to cement our trust.
We juggle on until when the old man rebukes his obstinate grandchild for making life hard for us.
“ Why are you making life hard for your brothers? What use do you have for those notes, I will even set them on fire if you continue making a fuss about it,” he threatens to leave as he has important business to attend to at the Waragi distillery.
We agree to fork out Shs 7M in exchange for $60,000, something we find very attractive as instincts of instant wealth begins to dance inside us.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is a scam but we only realise it after parting with our hard earned money to go back with fake papers that we will only use to light charcoal stoves.
But that’s not the end. The real battle emerges as dangerously armed men begin to circle around us, giving rise to queries of whether we can get out of here alive. Remember we already have fake dollars in the car, in their village which is already illegal.
These “Fake Dollar Wizards” are so well-protected, even the police approach them with the caution of a cat trying to walk through a room full of rocking chairs. Despite complaints, these boys wriggle out of custody like eels dipped in oil.
Rumor has it, the police might even be getting a slice of the pie! The villagers, of course, aren’t innocent either; they’re on the payroll, ensuring no victim gets tipped off. You could be buying sugar next to these guys, and they’d smile at you like they’re selling kindness instead of scamming your rent money.
And it’s not just villagers falling for this; even celebrities and high-ranking officials have been bamboozled by these village geniuses. But hey, we’re saving those juicy names for next time!
As they say in Busoga, “Knowledge comes at 45,” but these lads must have skipped the line because they seem to have gotten it at 18. So, if you ever find yourself crossing Jinja Bridge or even Isimba Bridge, hold onto your wallet like it’s the last chapati at a family gathering. You might end up with more fake dollars than sense!
Oh, and in case you forgotten, yes, the writer of this story, a proud Kamulian was once left holding the fake bag. So, stay tuned for more juicy details in the next episode. Names will be named, fingers will be pointed, and wallets hopefully will be saved and the hairs width escape from the fangs of these dangerous creatures.
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