Beware! Of Frauds With Fake Designed Google Letter Heads

Fraud 1“Every man has the right to decide his own destiny,” sings Bob Marley. This right has overflowed its banks, as some people has chosen the habit of fraudulent means to live in this world, thus; always looking for absent-minded people to defraud.  

Desperate people, do desperate things. Every year people lose thousands of dollars and euros through internet or online frauds. There are warnings and prevention sites to curb away people from such frauds, yet they become victims to online frauds.

Online crooks, thieves, defrauders etc, plan very well to confuse victims to believe the scams are genuine. They go as far as designing ‘Google Letter Heads’ to make you believe what you are reading is genuine, but it isn’t.

It usually comes like this: Dear Google User.

You have been selected as a winner for using Google services, attached to this email is Our Official Notification Letter for your perusal.

Sincerely.
Eileen Naughton.
Managing Director Of Operations,
Google UK Ltd.

This fake mail  they make you believe from  Google, informs you of winning over £950.000.00 from (Google online sweeptakes) The letter demands your telephone number, your country, address etc, but it’s completely fake. Don’t let the fake designed ‘Google Letter Head’ steal your mind to give those thieves the processing fee they demand from victims.

Few years ago, with the photocopy of my Belgium press card, I sent a registered letter to ‘The Spanish Police Fraud Squad’ over Nigerians in fake letter lottery scam, claiming the person had won a million euros but needed to advance 4,000 euros in administrative fees to claim the jackpot. Over more than 600 people took the bait.

The police broke their networks and seized “800 Nigerian letters ready for posting, 700 envelopes, lists of possible victims” in their search, along with 100 photos destined for passport forgery.’ This is the reason I blog. I will inform readers any time I discover defrauders new plans.

Do You Experience God’s Miracle In Your Life?

Genesis 2I grew up in a family that strongly believes in God. At the corner of my parents’ bed room, stands a small table covered with a white cloth. On this table, lies the Holy Bible, which belongs to my mother. She wakes up early in the morning to pray without ceasing. Sometimes I see her shedding tears in her prayers, when she feels her prayers had been answered or touched spiritually.

Life, to many is sex, enjoyment, doing drugs, rock and roll, then after, you say good bye to your friends, when it’s time to go and sleep peacefully or tormented in your grave. That’s not the meaning of life. Life has a significant meaning or purpose. Watching my mother, each morning, behind the small table, I developed certain interest in seeking the face of God and started following her footsteps.

I read my Bible daily, and tried my best to live to the principle the holy book teaches. Like everyone, I wasn’t perfect, I did many things which I shouldn’t do as a child, but not in my adult hood. As I begin to mature, I started experiencing the miracle of God’s hand in my life. There are times I joke about it saying: Death doesn’t like ugly people, the reason I’m still living.

I was once carried away by the sea, because I couldn’t swim. Like Jonah in the belly of the whale and brought to the shores of Nineveh, after people gave up to save me, they watched as a mighty wave brought me ashore. The impact was heavy and the state of shock I find myself in at that moment, prevented me to put on my clothes. I walked home naked. Till now I’m scared of the sea and can’t swim.

I was once crossing a busy street in Africa, after watching both sides of the road, I felt secured to cross, but from nowhere I was caught up in the middle of the road, when a taxi hits me. Like a superman, I find my body in the mid-air, landing on top of the vehicle’s bonnet. The impact severely damaged the bonnet, but I survived.

In Africa, I was travelling on a mini-bus with other passengers. It was a very sunny day. I think the pressure in the vehicle’s Tyre warmed up to certain degrees Celsius, thus; one of the front Tyre’s exploded. The vehicle somersaulted continuously and finally landed on its side. I jumped out from the front seat without a scratch, when many were rushed to the hospital with injuries.

In Lagos State, Nigeria, I was kidnapped by armed robbers in military uniform. It was a swift action which took me by surprise. I was holding a small hand bag which attracted them. They thought probably the bag has over a million dollars. In the rear of the car, I struggled with them and wouldn’t let the bag go, while the butt of the rifles they were holding rain on every part of my body, including my head.

After every attempt failed, they pushed me from the vehicle while in motion and I landed on the ground with a force, like a bag of salt. I stood up, brushed the dust off my body and walked home. But the scars of the beating I had, can still be traced on my body today, after three decades.

In Amsterdam, I was nearly killed by a woman while on my bicycle. I fell and rolled ahead, while her front Tyre were on my bicycle. According to her, the sun partially blinded her, so she didn’t see me. I had bruises all over my body. She carried my badly damaged bicycle to a repairers’ shop and paid for the cost. Anxious to know of my condition, she called me the next day. I told her I’m doing well. That was the last time she called.

In Antwerp, Belgium, after holidays in Africa, I came back penniless with bills to pay. There was a particular one I needed time to pay 110 Euros at my son’s secondary school. That was a second letter reminding me, thus; the third letter wouldn’t be good for me. The end of the month to get my salary was still far, thus; the situation was actually disturbing.

It was winter and very dark, on my way to work, I spotted something like a folded money on the bicycle lane. I stopped and walked back to see if it’s money or mind is just playing tricks on me. Behold, it was money. I took it and unfolded it. Guess how much? Two fifty Euro notes, one ten Euro note and one five Euro note, a total of 115 Euros.

After work, I quickly went home to pay the 110 Euros to the school and used the five Euros to buy some few thing I needed most. There is no need to doubt over these stories, because they came from Joel Savage, the writer who loves non-fiction articles and books. Have you ever experienced the miracle of God’s hand in your life?

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Said Jesus at Matthew 7:7. Just as sports is good for the body, reading the Bible is good for the mind and your spiritual being.

My Motherland Offers Riches To The Tourist, So Why Are So Many Ghanaians Queuing Up To Come To Britain?

Culture 3

Ghana Says ‘Awaaba’- Welcome

A tale of two countries

Article by Henry Bonsu: A journalist and broadcaster (Originally published in TheGuardian)

While my primary government, in London, has been struggling to persuade people in Britain it has done enough to keep out the huddled masses from eastern Europe, my secondary government, in Accra, has also been preoccupied with travel. But rather than keeping undesirables out, Ghana’s government is more concerned with bringing people in: to spend their pounds, dollars and euros on business and tourism. And Ghanaians living in Britain are being asked to do their bit to help turn their country into Africa’s number one destination.

The tourism minister, Jake Obestebi-Lamptey, wants us to tell people that the former Gold Coast has become a “bird-watcher’s paradise, eco-tourism haven and an adventurer’s dream”. I’ve been wondering, though, how we can persuade the locals that they are sitting on such a goldmine. Stroll past the British high commission in Accra on any given evening and you’ll see Ghanaians bedding down, hoping to be the first in the visa queue the next morning.

And the 35,000 Ghanaians who were granted short-term entry to Britain this year, and the similar number of rejects, are just a fraction of those who dream of fleeing poverty. With doctors, nurses and teachers in the vanguard, ministers have been insisting on loyalty clauses for ambitious graduates. Not for nothing are we called the “Jews of Africa”, with an estimated 200,000 Ghanaians and their descendants settling in this country alone since independence.

Some people are used to thinking of Ghana as a “beacon” country of stability and inward investment – the symbolic destination for African-Caribbeans and Americans who wish to reclaim their heritage. Didn’t the IMF and World Bank lavish praise on former president Jerry Rawlings and his successor John Kufuor for their growth rates of 5%? Haven’t Japan and the EU given Ghana millions of dollars for skills training and poverty reduction?

Indeed they have. But when I visit my motherland this summer, it will, once again, be a tale of two countries. I’ll marvel at the beach hotels, luxury estates and free press, and revel in the power of the pound, which takes me from bohemian Brixton to the elite of Ghanaian society in six hours.

But this is the Ghana of the expatriate, and the rich business and political classes, who travel in and out of Britain, but have no intention of staying because their standard of living cannot be replicated in any European country.

The other Ghana is that of my cousin, a pastor, who ministers in the densely populated areas of Greater Accra. Maamobi is typical; a district of shanty housing, open sewers, malaria and mass unemployment. If you are lucky enough to have a job, your minimum wage has just gone up to 11,000 cedis (65p) a day.

My aunt is a typical resident, full of incredible hospitality, but she talks about her own future with little ambition, investing all hope in the children she’s managed to send abroad. Swatting away flies under the burning sun, she chats about whether things can change in “Mother Ghana”, with frequent references to gye nyame (“only God can help us”).

Perhaps such fatalism is understandable in a 60-year-old, who has witnessed colonial rule followed by decades of strong-man politics. But it is more distressing to see the fight go out of younger people, who can spend years in limbo, waiting for an overseas relative to pay some middle man a £3,000 “connection fee” to ease their passage. Ironically these are the same Ghanaians who, once here, will hold down two or three jobs, and contribute their share of an annual $1.5bn in remittances to sustain their family.

When cousins ask me how life is in Britain, I warn that although the 60s Nkrumah generation – which includes my parents – have largely succeeded in grooming their children for a middle-class future, things are more unpleasant for recent arrivals; that unless they have key qualifications (medical, educational or social work), they will have few choices – hence around 60% of London’s parking attendants are Ghanaian or Nigerian.

Perhaps naively I offer to help them do business locally alongside the mechanics, seamstresses and shopkeepers, who somehow manage to make ends meet, but then I hear of Ghana’s frighteningly high interest and inflation rates, the soaring price of utilities (a consequence of foreign-inspired privatisation), and the stop-go electricity supply. If, like my uncle in Kumasi, you take up farming, which comprises 36% of Ghana’s GDP, could you compete with cheap subsidised goods from the west, without being given access to European and US markets?

Would you wait for change to be delivered by Blair and Geldof’s African Commission? No, in those circumstances, £6 an hour as a security guard or a cleaner in a faraway country may sound like a better way to make money. Perhaps, like the dozens of others who’ll be bedding down outside the British high commission tonight, you’d rehearse your lines in preparation for an interview, and perhaps a passport to life in London’s underbelly. So, if you’re a British traveller huffing at the occasional delay at Heathrow, spare a thought for the other kind of global traffic heading in your direction with tourism the last thing on its mind.

Babies: Those Who Want Can’t Get And Those Who Get Don’t Want

Unwanted

Unwanted baby deposited in a baby box.

Once I visited a Belgian couple in the neighborhood of Antwerp. They are married for many years and both are in their forties. They dearly love each other and many times, I study the way Peter treats his wife, kindly, gently and respectfully. “Joel, hold a woman like an egg, because when it breaks, you can’t pick it up, you will only miss your water when your well runs dry,” Peter once told me.

I do ask questions, especially when very close to someone. “Peter, you don’t like children,” I said. “I married to have children, but we never had one. I’ve tried everything without success, “said Peter. “After everything failed, did you ask from God,” I asked. “If there is God, then he might be a very wicked God,” said Peter.

I realized the pain and heartache of Peter. His comments are enough to know how dear baby means to him, but frankly speaking, when one seeks God, God will also seek you. His wife couldn’t bring forth a baby and now he hates God for that. It’s not only Peter and his wife facing this bitter experience. Worldwide, there are thousands of women looking for children without success.

Some have spent thousands of dollars just to be pregnant all to no avail. Many are sad in their matrimonial homes, because the child they are longing for never comes. Thousands of women are desperate looking for babies. Without any hope of having own their babies, some adopt children, yet thousands of babies are killed daily through abortion, strangulation and abandonment.

Some mothers are so cruel that one finds it difficult to believe what they did to their own babies, The question is, why babies often end up in the hands of women who don’t want them, when someone else is looking for one without success? Couple of months ago, a woman from New Jersey was arrested and charged with murder for allegedly putting her newborn baby in the middle of the road and setting the infant on fire.

Innocent babies are being dumped in toilets, bushes, roadsides, gutters etc, without any pity or remorse. The need to do more to help mothers with unwanted babies is necessary. Governments worldwide should also find a solution to avoid abandoned babies, because society wouldn’t accept this kind of cruelty. Germany has already found a solution to discourage abandoning of babies, by providing baby bank.

Lee Jong-rak , a pastor in South Korea, saw a devastating problem in the amount of abandoned babies left to die on the streets. He organized a “Baby Drop Box” where unwanted babies are deposited in a box, saving thousands of babies who would have been left on the streets or abandoned to die. Life is precious, people should stop killing babies.