Fake UK Volunteer Schemes: A Real Scam Story

About two years ago, a woman reached out to me. She said she had applied for a volunteer role with an organisation in the UK, and they had accepted her. A few weeks later, she got another email from them, saying a Nigerian representative would now handle all applications coming from Nigeria.

She forwarded the email to me. I read through it carefully, then did some digging—checked their Facebook page, browsed their website, and something just felt off. I told her to let it go.

I’m Nigerian. I’ve worked with people from all over the world, and I can confidently say this: Nigerians are wonderfully unique, but sadly, we’re also predictable when it comes to desperation and scams. Everyone wants to “japa”—to leave the country. And that’s how people keep falling for the same tricks over and over again.

Scammers have found a goldmine in fake travel opportunities. It’s the new Ponzi scheme. When people lose money to Ponzi schemes, they rant. But when they get scammed by shady visa agents or fake international offers, they stay quiet. Maybe it’s shame, maybe it’s secrecy—either way, they suffer in silence.

The woman told me she reached out because she knew I’d try to talk her out of it. She said if it were me or one of my sisters, we’d probably take the chance anyway.

Out of curiosity, I joined the Zoom meeting advertised in the mail she got. It was supposed to be for Nigerian applicants. There were over 100 people on the call. But the host wasn’t there.

Thirty minutes passed. Nothing. 

Forty minutes... still no host. By now, there were 120 people waiting, cameras on, hope shining through tired eyes.

Finally, a guy joined. Yoruba accent. From his vibe, he seemed like someone who had just recently moved to the UK. He didn’t apologize for keeping over a hundred people waiting—classic red flag.

He introduced himself as the organisation’s PR rep. According to him, he also represented several other organisations that helped Nigerians come to the UK to volunteer, and after six months, they’d be offered full-time roles and their visas would automatically switch to Tier 2 (which allows you to live and work in the UK long-term).

But there was a catch—they’d first need to “undergo training” that cost £650.

He promised that training would boost their chances of being selected. He even said they could bring their families once accepted. People were nodding and taking notes.

So, I asked: 

“If everyone here pays £650, will all of them be invited? Because your website says you only take 10 volunteers per year.”

His response? They’d only take the first 10. Those would work for 6 months, then transition to staff. After that, they’d take another 10.

I asked again: “Your site says you have 20 staff and are looking for 10 volunteers. If you’re turning 20 new people into staff every year, what happens to the old ones? Do you fire them?”

He shifted gears and said he also had connections with other care homes, and he’d try to place people there too.

One more question: 

“If 100 people pay, and you only take 10 every 6 months, it would take 5 years to clear the queue. Will you stop advertising during that time?”

He shut me down. Said he couldn’t just take questions from one person and asked someone else to speak.

That’s when the real heartbreak hit. Instead of pushing for answers, others were asking how many family members they could bring or if they could defer their volunteer start dates.

I logged off the call and moved on with my life.

Fast forward to 2023. I posted that I was in Mexico, and the same lady, Mercy, messaged me. She had paid £650 for the training and another £50 for a handbook back in October 2021. She never heard back from them.

She asked me what to do. I decided to test things out again. I sent the organisation a fresh email saying I was interested in volunteering. They referred me back to—you guessed it—the same Nigerian guy. Apparently, a new round of interviews was coming up in October.

It was clear. This organisation—Camhill or Camp Mountain or whatever name they use—and this so-called UK representative are running a scam together. Targeting struggling Nigerians. Robbing them of the little they have, all in the name of hope.

It’s painful. It’s cruel. And the saddest part? The scammers are poor Nigerians too, preying on people just like them.

So, to everyone out there dreaming of leaving the country: be careful. Ask questions. Verify everything. Don’t let your desperation make you a target.

This is the Japa season. But please, don’t lose your money—or your dignity—to fake dreams.

Stay sharp. Stay safe.