This Experience was narrated by Jean Claude Niyomugabo (@jcniyomuagbo) on X. I’ve always seen people making illegal money and kept to myself, knowing that if I ever tried it, God would surely use me as an example. But one day, a company came along with a product that seemed like a golden opportunity. I was ready to become a millionaire—the deal looked perfect. Little did I know, it was all a scam… The company promised us big money with a simple deal: harvest every four months for five years. They claimed each hectare could produce five tons of crops, and they’d buy everything at $1 per kilogram. “Don’t worry about the market,” they said. “We’ll handle it all.” The product in question? Castor seeds. They made it sound like the next big thing, and I believed every word. I eagerly joined, dreaming of the wealth I’d soon have. I pictured myself on a beach, sipping coconut water, as the money rolled in. For $680, the company provided a full package, including seeds, fertilizers, and all the necessary inputs for a successful harvest. It sounded like the deal of a lifetime. All I had to do was follow their instructions and wait for the riches to pour in. Farmers in my community were just as excited. Many took on multiple hectares, investing their hard-earned savings into this venture. We were united by hope, envisioning a brighter future. But as the rainy season ended, reality started to sink in. The crops, touted as drought-resistant, began to wilt. I was confused—I had done everything according to their guidelines. Why were the plants failing? Turns out, the seeds weren’t as resilient as promised. Without rain, my fields dried up, and what should’ve been a thriving crop turned into a nightmare. When the first harvest season came, I was eager to see the results of my hard work. Instead of the expected five tons per hectare, I barely managed 200 kilograms. The crops were brittle and dry, and any hope of re-harvesting was gone. It was clear: we’d been scammed. One of the farmers later did the math and discovered that the company’s $680 package could’ve been bought locally for just $70. They’d made a killing off of us while we were left scrambling to cover our losses. The company vanished into thin air, leaving us with empty fields and shattered dreams. What we thought was a path to financial freedom turned out to be a cruel joke. Now, the villagers laugh about it, joking about how we got scammed. But behind the laughter lies bitterness. “What a scam!” we say, though the sting of our loss remains. For me, it’s a lesson I’ll never forget. No more chasing opportunities that seem too good to be true. Sometimes, the risk simply isn’t worth it—especially when it’s built on lies.