In the crisp fall of 2022, Waris Mohamed was brimming with joy. She had just signed her three children up for what seemed to be a complimentary after-school tutoring program.
Living in Savage, the 44-year-old had been nudged into enrolling by a considerate teacher at her children’s weekend school, known as dugsi, where they honed their grasp on Islamic teachings. Assured her eligibility for free tutoring due to her household’s income under $35,000, Waris took the plunge.
Waris quipped, “What mom isn’t gonna jump at the chance of free help for her kids?” chuckling away. Yet, she seemed anxious as she clarified, “We were already struggling with school issues and everything else.”
The story took a disturbing turn when she got an unexpected call. A stranger requested her Social Security number and home address, insisting they were needs of the tutoring squad.
“And who’s asking?” Waris mused, to which the fast-talking caller responded, “We’re the folks helping your kids with tutoring.” Alas, it was a charade, as Waris later discovered, losing chunks of cash for what was a scam portraying itself as tutoring.
Finding herself entangled in troubling financial waters, Waris wasn’t alone. She was one among 18 Somali mothers sharing a similarly eerie narrative with Sahan Journal. They were all convinced by fellows claiming to bring free tutoring to their children’s doors. But the outcome was disappointing, with thousands mysteriously vanishing from their state tax refunds.
Complexities involving state tax credits, nonprofits, private tutoring entities, and entangled tax mechanisms left these women bewildered and frustrated. They lamented a lack of clarity on how they got ensnared in this predicament, eagerly passing the baton of blame to nonprofits that insisted on having thorough communication with clients.
The confusion masks the reality that these mothers, all from low-income households, rely on their tax refunds for essential expenses. The missing money hit hard.
Fatihiya Farah voiced, “That’s my only savings, bringing up a child alone.” She moaned over the loss of over $2,000 and a child none the wiser despite attending supposed lessons.
Waris — overwhelmed by unforeseen tax return deductions — admitted she would have braced financially had she known. “All my plans, like buying clothes for my kids or even a car, shattered,” she exhaled, painting the scenario as utter mayhem.
Despite legitimate-sounding calls demanding personal information to qualify her for the tutoring offer, Waris found the sessions were mere illusions. Kids saw nothing but the light of an iPad or partook in online engagements from overseas tutors they struggled to comprehend.
Likewise, Fatihiya’s son disengaged, unable to follow instructions from an unfamiliar voice broadcasted miles away, prompting her to quit after paying dearly.
Ever since, these mothers, including Raho Hussein, who lost $3,200, have relentlessly sought refunds, enduring fruitless interactions with tutoring firms, nonprofits, and the state revenue department.
Disturbingly, attempts by desperate mothers to publicize their plight on a Somali YouTube channel bred menacing calls. Raho, along with Sawda Ali and Lul Mohamud, received intimidating phone messages, putting their peace of mind—and safety—at stake.
Feeling cornered, Raho was tormented, “I can’t think about the money anymore because my life might be on the line.”
The twisted irony is a troubling misunderstanding spiraled among these women. They unknowingly engaged with a state initiative providing low-income folks with educational loans offset through tax refunds. Mistaken as grants, they didn’t foresee their refunds dwindling.
Adament they were cheated, many detailed how they were shepherded by intermediaries linking them to said education credits. The process saw notable Twin Cities nonprofits like the Venn Foundation and Youthprise play a pivotal role.
Despite the nonprofits speaking broadly about assisting parents with these resources, complaints persisted: the families hadn’t received adequate assistance or clarity on their predicament.
Facing documentation demands from state audits and tutors resistant to providing necessary paper trails didn’t help either. Families risk rejection of education tax credits without proper proof of services rendered.
This all seemed like clockwork issues tangled with state processes, but for families like Fadumo Hassan, who lost savings without ever seeking loans, it illustrated a deeper systemic mishap that treated them like numbers, not people.
These mothers never received refunds, hindering finances deprived by a misunderstood system. What’s worse, potential data breaches exposed them to unsettling prospects.
Fadumo and others are concerned that entities like Success Tutoring, which operated without a valid license, might exploit their personal data further.
In response to these prevailing concerns, both Venn Foundation and Youthprise insist they are devotedly addressing client dishevels, offering myriad resolution paths.
Yet Fadumo and her peers, without respite, continue to unfold a lawsuit-riddled digital trail in pursuit of answers and accountability in what feels like a never-ending pursuit of justice.
Edited by: Ali Musa
alimusa@axadletimes.com
Axadle international–Monitoring
