I spent a quiet Saturday afternoon at one of my favourite hideaways, La Patisserie Cafe, known for its excellent pastries and coffee. While my car was being washed, I enjoyed a slice of cake and a cup of green tea, making the most of my time by also giving half a dozen pairs to the shoeshine boy.
Time is the one resource that cannot be multiplied, borrowed, or reclaimed. After nearly four and a half decades of life, I have learned the value of using it wisely. That is why I was also reading an intriguing book, The Eleven-Year-Old Man, by Mulugeta Abreham, a veteran of Eritrea’s insurgency in the 1970s.
The book offered a glimpse into a long, drawn-out war that spanned decades and inflicted immeasurable loss of human life, property, and the futures of generations. I was captivated by the story of a thirteen-year-old boy who, amid the brutal encounters between government forces and rebels, ventured into the arid valleys of Sahel. It read like legend, how a child, barely aware of the adult world, became entangled in one of its ugliest realities: war.
Though Mulugeta and I are from different generations and opposing sides of history, his story of a boy caught in the whirlwind of fate was deeply human. Knowing him personally has revealed an inconvenient truth; we have more in common than we think. Having moved to the West in his teens, he retained the values and mannerisms of my early childhood, qualities that are now increasingly rare.
He was humble and respectful, with a sense of humility that reminded me of our parents' generation. His version of old traditions remained unaltered, frozen in time, untouched by the cultural shifts that swept through the region decades later. It made me nostalgic for the days when people greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek and bowed slightly when passing on the street.
My undivided attention was suddenly interrupted by a call from an unfamiliar number. Unlike some who ignore unknown callers, I always pick up.
How else would one know what concerns them?
The call could bring unexpected good news, or bad, but either way, it is better to be informed. So, as inconvenient as it was to be pulled from my engrossing read, I answered.
A young woman’s voice greeted me, introducing herself as a representative from my bank. She explained that a network upgrade was being implemented for my mobile banking app and mentioned that I had not acted on an SMS alert sent two weeks ago. With the relentless flood of promotional and irrelevant messages in my inbox, it was easy to overlook anything important. I admitted that I had likely dismissed it as just another pointless text, lost in the endless stream of notifications invading my privacy.
She continued, saying that the deadline for upgrading via my branch had passed, and she was calling from the bank’s headquarters. Though it was unclear why an online app upgrade required branch involvement, she quickly reassured me that the process would be conducted remotely. If I could spare five minutes, she would guide me through it.
She asked me to put my phone on speaker so I could have my hands free to log into the mobile app. I quickly replied that I was using my Bluetooth headphones, so we continued. The woman rattled off rapid instructions, making me uneasy. She asked if I had logged in successfully, and I confirmed. As she guided me through the app, I started sensing something was off; the steps felt less like an upgrade and more like a money transfer.
The call was coming from a private number, which seemed suspicious since banks typically use landlines for customer communication. I did not voice my suspicion immediately but played along. As we progressed, it became clear that I was being lured into a fraudulent trap. I abruptly stopped and told her I preferred to complete the process at my bank branch before hanging up.
Fortunately, a branch was nearby and still open. I quickly sipped my green tea, closed my book, and rushed over. Though the bank was closing, the door was still ajar. I managed to catch the deputy branch manager and explained the situation. I shared the caller’s number, which I ironically dubbed “the schemer.”
To my surprise, a text from my bank had arrived at the same time as the call, further complicating things. The branch manager confirmed that the text was legitimate but took a snapshot for further verification. Fraudulent schemes often involve insider help or in-house accomplices, but he assured me that the bank never contacts clients from private mobile numbers.
I provided as many details as possible and left my contact information in case they needed further assistance. He assured me they would investigate and update me on their findings. He also mentioned that many people had been swindled by tech-savvy fraudsters. In one case, someone had lost over 600,000 Br.
Banks have issued alerts warning customers about online apps capable of hacking password systems and stealing large sums of money from unsuspecting victims. A friend of mine recently lost 20,000 Br in a scheme that involved no calls or communication. He reported the case to his bank, but they dismissed it, claiming the transaction appeared to have been made by him.
He only realised the theft when he received text alerts for two successive withdrawals of 10,000 Br each. The bank informed him that the first transaction was made online, while the second was through an ATM in the early hours of the morning, from a location he had never even heard of. When he approached his network provider for further investigation, the trail went cold, leaving his efforts to reclaim the money a futile chase.
Gone are the days when banking relied solely on face-to-face interactions, handshakes, and cash exchanges. Ethiopia remains one of the few conservative countries where physical banknotes are still widely used. Both the public and potential fraudsters are not yet fully sophisticated in digital finance, which has delayed widespread concern. Meanwhile, in places like Austria, legislators are pushing to enshrine the right to use cash, citing privacy concerns and the risks of digital transaction tracking. A similar debate may emerge in Ethiopia, as cash remains essential, especially during network failures. Many have found themselves stranded at petrol stations, unable to pay when digital transactions fail.
As the country’s young, tech-savvy population grows, the older generation, less familiar with IT security, becomes increasingly vulnerable. Unfortunately, even some of the younger generation, on whom the country's future depends, fall prey to the allure of quick financial gains and digital fraud schemes.
Public awareness is crucial. People must stay vigilant against these evolving threats. Fortunately, advanced technical knowledge is not always necessary, any financial transaction should be approached with caution. If something feels even slightly suspicious, it should be thoroughly verified before proceeding. Lastly, safeguarding passwords is crucial. As the saying goes, treat one’s password like one’s toothbrush, never share it, and change it regularly.
PUBLISHED ON
Feb 23, 2025 [ VOL
25 , NO
1295]
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