VICTOR AYENI examines how accidental bank transfers are becoming a troubling feature of Nigeria’s cashless economy, where some recipients quickly spend, hide, and a worrying few brazenly refuse to refund money sent in error to their accounts
When Richard Okoye received a credit alert of about N300,000 on his phone one morning, he stared at the screen in disbelief.
As it turned out, the money had been mistakenly transferred into his account by the old-generation bank he used.
For a schoolteacher surviving on modest wages, the sudden windfall felt like a rare stroke of fortune. His wife, however, was less persuaded. With a mix of suspicion and curiosity, she asked where the money had come from. Okoye had no clear answer.
All he knew was that the alert carried the name of his bank and that no explanation accompanied it.
At first, doubt lingered. He suspected it might be an error. But caution soon gave way to excitement.
Within hours, the then 39-year-old made his way to the nearest ATM and withdrew a large portion of the money.
What followed was a spending spree driven by relief and delight: a hurried trip to the market to purchase items he had long postponed, followed by a stop at a nearby pub, where drinks flowed freely.
To Okoye, the money felt almost divine, reminiscent of the biblical account of the prophet Elijah, sustained in famine by bread and meat delivered by ravens.
But this providence, it turned out, came with consequences.
After about three months, the bank called Richard and asked him to return the money, explaining that it had been transferred to his account in error.