You Won’t Believe What Nigerians Did After This Crypto Meltdown 😱🙌

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Among the sun-soaked boulevards and restless market streets of Nigeria, a tragedy of modern ambition unfolded. CBEX, a digital asset bazaar heralded as the harbinger of boundless wealth—or at least, some desperately needed U.S. dollars—collapsed beneath the weight of its own promises. With the keen efficiency of fate, hundreds awoke one morning to discover their riches had performed the same vanishing act as yesterday’s rain.

BBC Pidgin, the contemporary chronicler of our age, informs us: withdrawals were suspended on April 9. “A security breach,” croaked the platform (as if the fox, caught among the hen feathers, blamed an errant gust of wind). A full return by April 15 was proclaimed with much solemnity and the conviction of a street hypnotist. But by then, accounts were as empty as a village well in September.

Across the continent’s vast social web, videos floated like grieving doves. Traders sobbed—grown men and women—mourning not just money but the fracturing of hope. Aunties and uncles, sons and daughters, their own savings now as intangible as cryptocurrency itself… did anyone think the blockchain would be the new sewing machine?

Tears watered the ground from Lagos to Kano, as CBEX’s digital wind swept away fortunes. For days, threads of grief stitched together the nation—a quilt woven from dashed dreams and that age-old proverb: “If the money comes easy, so too does the lesson.”

— Gistme9ja (@Gistme9j) April 15, 2025

“Guys, check your balance, they said. And I did. Zero. Nothing. Not even a generous rounding error!” wept one forlorn trader in a viral video, after sacrificing 8.7 million naira (~$5,432) to the altar of algorithmic optimism.

As Telegram channels vanished like thieves into the Ibadan night, a different justice emerged: traders beset the CBEX office in Oke Ado, and liberated not only their grievances but also the air conditioners, glass windows, and anything that could be carried away with righteous indignation. If CBEX could liquidate assets, so could the people, one air-cooled step at a time! 🥶🪟

Outside, the Securities and Exchange Commission, with the gravity of seasoned clerks, cautioned against such digital mirages. The director, Emomotimi Agama, hinted darkly about an unnamed villain—so anonymous, one could almost hear CBEX whistling and pretending to tie its shoe in the background.

spoken about, rarely experienced.

The SFC noted, to no one’s surprise, that CBEX’s supposed digital asset license was as fictional as a Tolstoy character’s happy marriage—neither at head office in Canada, nor the mysterious branch in Japan.

How Does the CBEX Group Work? (No, Seriously…)

Promising vast returns and employing the sorcery of “Artificial Intelligence” (because who trusts regular intelligence anymore?), CBEX drew in 2024’s dreamers like moths to a particularly shiny blockchain. “Double your fortune in one month!”—a siren call for those untroubled by economics, experience, or common sense.

The doors opened only for U.S. dollars, which, it seems, is universally beloved even by Nigerian optimists. The website was smooth, as if David Copperfield himself had designed it. Referral bonuses turned every user into a cheerleader—friends, family, casual acquaintances—no one was spared the gospel.

“Forget volatility. Trust our AI and get rich, while you enjoy a cold Zobo,” CBEX’s X account thundered to 3,000 loyal (and soon-to-be-disappointed) followers. 🍹🤖

By February 2025, the murmur of doubt rose in digital circles—CBEX’s resemblance to Ponzi schemes past, such as the infamous MMM crash of 2016, became a subject for much hand-wringing and keyboard clattering.

April arrived, and the party ended not with confetti but a panicked stampede. Suddenly, locked accounts were the new status symbol. As for the promise of returns, investors learned the language of loss, perhaps for the hundredth time in human history.

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2025-04-15 14:34