Pandemic brings out the worst of con men, fraud and cybercrime

An elderly couple received a telephone call saying a relative of theirs had been infected by Covid-19 and, therefore, they would need to be tested.

Close to midnight there came a knock on the door and two figures stood there in masks and full protective clothing.

Sensibly, the old couple smelled a rat, or should we say two rats, and closed the door in their faces.

It was a brazen attempt to gain entry to the couple’s home for purposes of theft, a crime which has increased markedly since the coronavirus pandemic descended.

I sometimes think if it was the end of the world and we were all being consumed by fire, flood or pestilence, some con men would be sneaking around, figuring how to make a bob or two while there was still time.

During March, the all-Europe police organisation, Europol, led a global, one-week operation involving 90 countries to target traffickers in counterfeit medicines, fake testing kits and substandard sanitary products.

Their efforts led to 121 arrests and the seizure of dangerous pharmaceuticals plus 34,000 face masks, altogether worth 13 million euros (Sh1.5 billion).

A total of 2,500 online links were taken down and 37 organised crime groups were dismantled.

CHILDREN AT RISK

Many pandemic scams involve supply issues. A European company sent 6.6 million euros (Sh697 million) to a Singapore supplier for alcohol gels and masks. Nothing ever came.

In Britain alone, police say UK firms and individuals have lost more than £1.8 million to bogus companies.

A BBC investigation found that criminals in West Africa had set up hundreds of scam websites targeting hospitals and care homes seeking to buy in bulk.

There has also been an increase in attempts by cyber-creeps to suborn and abuse children at home who are spending more time online, with less supervision.

Finally, one of those low-as-you-can-get stories from the United States. Customers ordering a home delivery from the local supermarket can add a tip to their order.

Once the delivery is made, they can legally delete the tip. Sad to say, many do, especially those who live in cities’ wealthier suburbs.

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My memories of eating out in Kenya are that no meal was complete without a generous helping of “tomato sos”.

Spanish journalist and author Ignacio Peyro might have some peppery comments about that, judging by his views on the way sauces are applied with happy abandon by the British.

In a 1,000-word article for Spanish Esquire, Peyro targets English mustard as being “of such devastating strength that it scorches the unsuspecting palate”. HP brown sauce is “a sickly sweet, unsophisticated” barbecue sauce, while Marmite is mere “filth”.

There are exceptions, such as Lea & Perrins sauce, good with toasted cheese, and Piccalilli, a British interpretation of a South Asian classic, consisting of chopped pickled vegetables and spices. It’s great with ham.

Plus, Peyro does have good things to say about British food in general, particularly meat pies, kippers, soups, raspberries, oysters, eggs and our “extraordinary range of beers”. But don’t mention rhubarb. Pretty to look at, but Ugh!

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It is easy to lose heart as the bad news rolls in — I just read that three women spat at police who broke up their illegal house party in Eastbourne — but you know what they say about clouds, that there’s always a silver lining…

Children here have been drawing rainbows for the locked-in folks to put in their windows; doctors in the United States, aware that they look a bit scary in their gowns and masks, are now pinning smiley photographs of themselves on their chests; not every old person dies from Covid-19 — patient William Lapschie from Oregon, USA, survived, and he is aged 104, and so did a woman from Iran, aged 103, and ditto a lady from Genoa, 102.

For myself, as an oldie not encouraged to venture out, the lockdown brought offers of help from Angela, Sara, Carol, Nickie, young Gerry, Patrick, Harris, Neelima, Miriam, Michael, Joe and Richard.

I now have enough food to withstand the Siege of Mandalore, plus a little of the “water of life” (it keeps the spirits up, plus it’s good for the heart. Honest!)

What’s more, I am now deep into an 855-page novel, which I have been avoiding for years, namely Life and Fate, an amazing story of Soviet life in the mid-20th century by Russian war correspondent Vasily Grossman.

When it’s time for a break from the horrors of Stalingrad, I go to my window and consider the cherry tree in our front garden, now in full flowering glory.

Bees are buzzing from flower to flower, probing and checking; behind come greedy wood pigeons gulping down the fleshy cream leaves; a chaffinch hovers and decides, maybe not.

Lockdown? What lockdown?

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A notice spotted outside a strip club in America: CLOTHED until further notice.

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