'Nigerian' letter scammers should get a spellchecker

By MARK FRYER

Great literature and investment are seldom companions - as the briefest glance at any prospectus will confirm.

But there is an exception, an investment where the offers come with action-packed plots, rich in human drama, in language that takes a boldly experimental approach to grammar and sentence structure.

Yes, it's those infamous "Nigerian" letters, offering vast returns just for helping someone in Nigeria - or Ivory Coast, Sierra Leone, Gabon, or any number of exotic locales - unravel their tangled finances.

Hardly a day goes by without the email yielding up another of these missives claiming to come from Mrs Atinuke Ige, Dr Wilfred Mboyo, Mrs Mary P. Kabila, Prince Mgborogwu, Dr Oskar Makalele or the evocatively named Mrs Joy Bonkas.

And yes, they're scams, every last one; take them seriously and you have only yourself to blame. But take them as a bit of light relief and you'll be rewarded with literary riches, soap operas in miniature, and all for free.

To better appreciate the subtle nuances of the Nigerian letter, it helps to know that they have a structure all of their own, made up of four components.

Starting at the start, there's the salutation.

Sam Obi, for example, takes the straightforward, if somewhat longwinded, approach (all grammar and spelling is unchanged, to preserve the full flavour of the original): "Dear Sir, This letter may come to you as a surprise since it is coming from someone you have never met before. However we decided to contact you based on satisfactory information we hadabout your business person as regards business information concerning your contry and the safety of our fund in a steady economy such as that of your contry compared to our country NIGERIA Africa."

Mona Adel, on the other hand, sets out to dispel any doubts from the beginning: "Good a thing to write you. I have a proposal for you - this hhowever is not mandatory nor will I in any manner compel you to honour against your will."

Anthony Konu seems uncertain: "You will be surprise to receive this letter but when you go through it you might not be surprise again if the information has something to do with you."

And Mrs Atinuke Ige dives right into the action with an opening that any thriller writer would be proud to claim: "I am Atinuke Ige, wife of the late Minister for Justice of Nigeria who was brutally murdered in cold blood before Christmas last year."

After the opening pleasantries, we get to the second vital component of any Nigerian letter: the situation. This is frequently convoluted, and at times verges on incomprehensible, but even the most complex situation can be expressed thus: "I have more money than you can shake a stick at but I can't use because a) I stole it and/or b) the authorities here don't like me."

The origin of this money varies. One tried and true favourite is the dead foreigner, as demonstrated by Oskar Makalele: "A foreigner a french, Late Engnr. Jean Claude Pierre (Snr) a merchant with the Federal Government of South Africa, Formerly working in Witwatersrand Johannesbourg Gold Mine, Johannesbourg South Africa until his death months ago in Kenya Air Bus (A310 - 304) Flight KQ431, He banked with us at Ned Bank, Johannesbourg and had a closing balance as at the end of September 2000 worth $33,800.000.00 (Thirty Three Million eight hundred United States Dollars) Valuable efforts are now being made by the Bank to get in touch with any of the Claude's Family or Relatives but to no success."

Given the number of unclaimed but wealthy corpses apparently littering the continent, anyone with more money than family should obviously avoid Africa at all costs.

An equally popular situation is the one involving a group of civil servants or executives who have ripped off their government or company in some creative way.

Dr Moses Mbete is typically up-front about the source of his ill-gotten wealth: "Within the Ministry of Energy and Mineral Resources where I work as a Director of Project Implemetation, and with co-operation of four other top officials, we have in our possession an overdue payment in US funds. The said funds represent certain percentage of the contract value executed on behalf of my Ministry by a foreign contracting firm, which we the officials over-invoiced to the amount of US$14,500,000.00 (Fourteen Million, Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars)."

A third favourite situation involves a wealthy individual who has died moments after placing a vast amount in a safe deposit box, or some other place the rightful beneficiaries can't get at.

Here's Mona Adel again, tossing in the added bonus of a murder mystery: "My father was a highly reputable busnness magnet - (a cocao merchant) who operated in the capital of Ivory Coast during his days. It is sad to say that he passed away mysteriously in France Though his sudden death was linked or rather suggested to have been masterminded by an uncle of his who travelled with him at that time. But God knows the truth! ... Before his death on February 12 2000 he called the secretary and told him that he has the sum of two million, seven hundred thousand United States Dollars (USD$2,700,000) left in fixed deposit account in one of the leading banks in Africa."

Kenneth Chamoya adds a dash of political intrigue: "After the late President Kabila was assassinated in very questionable circumstances, I knew I was in danger of losing from both ends. Due to this development and as a way of survival, I have joined the train. I have in my possession funds amounting to US$25 million."

And Mrs Mary P. Kabila should drop the letter-writing business and take the next plane for Hollywood, such is her ability to jam the most action into the shortest possible space: "I am Mrs. Mary P. Kabila from democraticRepublic of Congo. There is an information I would like you to keep very confidential. There is some amount of money my husband late president Laurent Kabila deposited in a security company in abidjan forsafekeeping. Before his eldest military son killed him. The squabble happened as immediately we returne back from our London trip. My husband married us two. I am the second wife. I will not be able to give you the full details that led to that ugly incident."

After salutation and situation, we move on to the third element in any Nigerian letter: the proposition.

In dead-foreigner cases this is relatively straightforward: how about you pretend you're the rightful heir and we split the proceeds?

Oskar Makalele: "some of my trusted colleagues and I now seek your permission to have you stand as next of kin to the late Engr. Jean Claude Pierre (Snr) so that the fund will be released and paid into your account as the beneficiary next of kin."

Corrupt civil servant situations typically lead on to an explanation of why those who stole the money can't just take it to the local equivalent of The Warehouse for a spending spree (because civil servants can't operate bank accounts, can't send money abroad, because they're being watched by the authorities). If only some foreign person would claim the money then we could all share the proceeds, explains the writer.

Sam Obi: " ... we intend to transfer the balance of USD41.5M presently floating inour apex bank of Nigeria to our own benefit and advantage. However we request for your unwavering assistance in this regard because as civil servants we are prohibited under the civil service code of conduct bureau from operating a foreign account or running a foreign company unless after retirement in this vain we want you to front for us as partner to enable us lodge the funds speedily into your account."

Then it's time for the final vital component: the reassurance.

This may be simply soothing. Oscar Makalele: "Though I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any one apprehensive and worried, but I am assuring you that everything will be well at the end of the day."

There may be a plea not to take the offer lightly. Wanga Mobutu: "Please treat this matter with all seriousness and revert back to me."

There may be a hint that speed is vital. Kevin David: "please and please, kindly hasten up the arrangement as quickly as possible."

And there may be a warning. Dr Moses Mbete: "Please remember to treat this matter as very confidential matter, because we will not comprehend with any form of exposure as we are still in active Government Service".

And yes, some people do fall for this stuff. A Christchurch businessman pursued a Nigerian offer for three years, misappropriating $500,000 to fund his "investment". A Melbourne investment adviser last year borrowed over A$700,000 from clients in the hope of making US$65 million in a Nigerian scam.

But the big questions remain: Where do they learn to write like this? And why can't they find the spellchecker?