Young Ethiopians Are Falling Victim to Fake Immigration Consultants

When 29-year-old Muhammed Awol first heard about a travel consultancy that could help him get a job in Japan, he thought his luck had finally turned. The father of two from Chefa Robbit, in Ethiopia’s Amhara region, a city nearly 600 km from the capital Addis Ababa, had long struggled to make ends meet. Going abroad, even temporarily, felt like the only way out, like it does for many young Ethiopians.

The agency, Bright Future Consultancy, sounded legitimate. It had offices in Addis Ababa and was vouched for by a friend from his hometown, a friend he trusted completely. Over phone calls and messaging apps, the firm’s representatives promised him a legitimate work visa.

“I didn’t even meet them in person,” Muhammed recalled to Shega. “A friend told me he trusted them, and I trusted him.”

In March 2024, he sent his passport and an initial payment of 50,000 birr to start the process. Over the next seven months, he would send more, a lot more, nearly 820,000 birr in total, his entire savings and borrowed money from friends and family. The money, always transferred via digital means, would be deposited into various accounts purportedly belonging to agency employees.

Mohammed foresaw a burgeoning new life in East Asia; what he received instead was a forged visa, a faked business license, and ultimately a deportation notice from Tokyo’s immigration office.

His ordeal began with small assurances: documents to “prove” financial capacity, falsified travel histories, and a visa stamped as “single-entry visitor.”

“They told me it was a work visa,” he stated. “They said I could stay as long as I wanted.”

When he landed in Tokyo, immigration officers questioned him about his purpose. He repeated what the agency had told him to say, that he had a job waiting and a driver to pick him up. But the story unraveled immediately.

“They said, ‘You don’t know why you came here. You must go back.’”

Within hours, he was deported back to Addis Ababa.

Bright Future Consultancy, he claims, also forged documents and registered an import-export license in his name, triggering government inquiries when he tried to cancel it. When he demanded a refund, the consultancy firm went silent, according to Mohammed.

In the aftermath, they allegedly suggested he enter South Korea illegally, a claim Muhammed strongly denies.

Several attempts by Shega to obtain a response from the Agency were unsuccessful. 

Muhammed is not alone, reports of similar incidents have proliferated over the past few years. The perpetrators prey on rising desperation as millions continue to be disenfranchised by, conflict, climate shocks, and deepening poverty. With unemployment hovering around 27.2% according to some estimates and prospects for a white-collar career narrowing by each national exam, migration has become a national obsession.

Consultancies with evocative names promise jobs in Canada, Japan, or Dubai, often advertised on TikTok and Facebook using polished videos and testimonials from supposed “success stories” and, at times, endorsements by famous content creators. A simple search for travel consultancies on TikTok yields a plethora of results. Many such firms collaborate with celebrities and prominent TikTokers, paying hefty fees and increasing their chance of being seen as genuine. 

But few are legitimate. Some even forge letters from Federal Ministries, hoping to lure unassuming prey.

“I thought I was paying after the visa,” said Workineh Bezabih, a 35-year-old father of three from Bishoftu, Oromia Regional State. He saw an ad on TikTok from Misrak Consultancy, promising a “risk-free” process to Canada. The ads stressed that payments would be made only after the process was completed. 

Workineh, however, started sending small payments initially that ballooned to 40,000 birr within weeks. Then came a demand for a 50,000-birr bank statement, supposedly to prove financial viability. But the sum proved too much for a daily laborer like Workineh.

When he asked questions, the agency blocked him, according to his account.

Adamant on finding a job abroad, Workineh went to another consultancy, which offered him the same playbook. He would fork up another 5,000 birr before giving up on his foreign employment dreams through consulting agencies.

“It’s all online,” he said. “You never see their faces. They just vanish once you pay.”

Most victims fall into a few archetype groups. They make enough money to get by, but not enough to keep up with quickly rising living costs or have any chance of owning a home. Often, they come up on a post on social media, increasingly TikTok, flashing the prospect of wages in foreign currency, company benefits, and stable working environments. Back in March, the Canadian Embassy in Addis Ababa was prompted to post a notice warning of fake immigration consultants. But these warnings too often go unnoticed. 

For Samson Thomas, 27, the dream of working in Dubai required the sale of his most prized asset, a motorcycle that served as the only income source for his family of three.

Through a network of agents stretching from Arba Minch to Addis Ababa, he found a consultancy that promised a delivery job like the one he had at home. The office in Megenagna, an area full of sleek high-rise buildings, he recalled, “looked professional, clean, computers everywhere, employees in uniform.”

He paid 125,000 Birr upfront, half the required fee for a “delivery job” in the UAE, and was told to pay the rest after his visa arrived. He even did a mock interview with supposed UAE recruiters.

But when he landed in the Gulf country, it became quickly clear that there was no job, work visa, or employer waiting for him

“There was no job,” Samson said. “They took me to a place called Ijaza, a holding area for workers waiting for assignments. It was like a prison.”

He described overcrowded dorms and oppressive desert heat. “It felt like I was in Syria, not Dubai,” he said. Eventually, Samson landed a job through newly made contacts at a massive construction project in the desert where temperatures reached past 50 degrees Celsius.

“We worked at a construction site where the metal burned your hands. Even with gloves, it was unbearable,” Samson says.

When he tried contacting the consultancy, his calls went unanswered.  Samson would even send one of his friends to visit the sleek office around Megenagna. He returned to Ethiopia months later, broke and traumatized.

“I went to their office with the police,” he said. “They arrested one employee. He spent ten days in jail. But I got nothing back.”

Migration to the Middle East through loosely regulated paths has had a long and contentious history in Ethiopia.  Hundreds of thousands have been expatriated back over two decades after stints of detention in abhorrent conditions for months. Following bilateral agreements between Ethiopia and five other Middle Eastern countries, a wave of foreign employment liaison offices has bubbled up. At one point, a three-year tax exemption was being offered as an incentive for agencies that managed to secure 500 employment contracts. However, a recent bill tabled in parliament attempts to put tighter guardrails by increasing security deposit requirements starting from $20,000. 

Yet many agencies appear to be sidestepping regulatory oversight by branding themselves as “ticketing offices” or informal consultancies operating through local brokers. They open offices, advertise aggressively, operate for a few months, collect payments with false promises, and then shut down and disappear when backlash or pressure from victims intensifies. In some cases, they simply reopen under a new name and repeat the scheme.  Stories of justice being served, with victims being reimbursed and perpetrators held accountable, are rarely heard, if ever.

“People in rural areas grow up believing migration is the only path,” said Seid Yimer, a former recruitment agent. “They see neighbors return from Arab countries with money, and they think, if she did it, I can too. They don’t ask how.”

According to a report by the Ministry of Labor and Skills, the number of Ethiopian workers employed through legal channels has soared past the half-million mark. Just as many could be flocking through quasi-formal channels. The South East Asian country of Myanmar has recently become a much sought-after destination for many young Ethiopians. Even after public reports that they will likely end up working in underground occupations like phone scams, flights have not stopped. They chose to try their chances abroad rather than go through a life in Ethiopia.

Muhammed, Workineh, and Samson represent only a fraction of the victims in this evolving shadow industry. As immigration consulting grows into a lucrative business, verifying the legitimacy of each operator has become nearly impossible for the average citizen.

Yoseph Mulugeta, Managing Director at Line Addis Travel Consultancy, warns prospective clients to be alert for certain red flags. He advises avoiding any consultant who guarantees 100 percent visa approval, particularly for Western countries with strict immigration systems.

“How can an intermediary guarantee an outcome that is decided by embassies?” Yoseph told Shega.

He also believes that clients need to conduct thorough research on the agency before trusting it with any amount of money. The manager cited the importance of looking at a company’s years in operation and track record from legitimate sources. Yoseph suggested mandatory partnerships with employers, higher education institutions, and official ministries as one way of increasing oversight towards this budding quasi-formal industry.

While the Labor Ministry attempts to regulate the outflow through its Ethiopian Labor Market Information System (E-LMIS), its scope does not extend to individual consultants.

“They don’t fall within our mandate,” one official from the Ministry told Shega.

Mulugeta Belay, a lawyer and legal consultant, said the digital nature of these operations complicates enforcement. He believes that public awareness campaigns and official endorsements for legitimate operators are essential to slow the rise of scams.

People need to be made aware,” Mulugeta told Shega.” Regulating scams is tough in a digital world.”

For many, a travel consultancy seems safer than the perilous, illegal routes thousands of Ethiopians take every month. Just two months ago, a boat carrying 154 Ethiopians being smuggled to Yemen capsized, leaving only 12 survivors.

Eshetu Bedada, a legal expert with prior experience dealing with human trafficking cases, argues that this new wave of fraudulent consultancies is nearing being on par with smuggling networks. He cited provisions under Ethiopia’s commercial law that carry prison sentences of up to 15 years for falsifying business registration documents as one avenue requiring attention.

He stressed that travel consulting firms are not authorized to recruit or promise employment abroad in addition to certification from the Labor Ministry.

 “Their business license only allows them to facilitate and organize clients’ travel documents,” he told Shega. “Nothing more is allowed.”

For too many young Ethiopians, the promise of overseas work is both a lifeline and a trap. The rise of digital consultancies has turned migration into a transactional gamble, where a single misstep can erase years of savings and dreams. As Ethiopia’s youth continue to navigate limited opportunities at home, experts warn that stronger oversight, verified channels, and public awareness are the only ways to prevent a generation from paying the ultimate price for hope.