…… by Austin Dumas


How I got that phone was a miracle. For months, I downloaded every nice photo I saw of it on the internet.

I read ALL of the reviews on GSM ARENA. I saved penny by penny during my project, I stayed over at an aunt’s and on the day I was due to leave, she gave me enough money that completed my savings for the phone.

I remember brimming with smiles as I walked into a branch of Slot to purchase my Nokia e-Series(E7),was tired of using my old HTC phone, That day was one of the happiest days in my life. My phone became my family, friend and best friend until the original owner came for it.

3pm one sunny afternoon, I went to the salon to have a haircut. I was the only customer in the salon and my best friend was charging in a corner. Little did I know the last time I held it in my hands was the last time I was going to see my baby, dead or alive.

I remembered my hair barber talking to a little boy who walked in, telling him he had not made enough money today, I didn’t see his face but I guessed he shouldn’t be more than 14 years old judging by the sound of his voice. Immediately he left, I remembered getting up to pick my phone but it was nowhere to be found, the charger dangling by the wall.

I panicked! That mini-heart attack you get when your phone mysteriously disappears from your pocket. I quickly collected my barber’s phone and dialed my number. My worst fears were confirmed. The phone was switched off.

I sat on the ground and screamed. The barber said the boy that came in probably took it. he said he rode a bicycle. I got up and walked to the left end on the street, and then to the right end of the street with my hands on my head. Then I ran left, and then right, asking people if they saw a boy rode past in a bicycle. I was losing my mind.

I was running left and right on the street with a half cut hair.

A small group of people had gathered in front of the saloon to ask my barber why his customer was running mad as my barber narrated the incident to them. Two boys held my hands and begged me to calm down.

It was getting to an hour.

Anyway, I didn’t leave the saloon until 7:30pm that day cos I had no willpower to walk.

When I got to my house that night, I met some of my neighbors  waiting in a corner. Bad news travel fast indeed. They knew how much I dotted on my phone and they came to register their condolences. In a bid to console me, they were saying, “Don’t worry, that person that stole your phone has taken all your problems in this life!!!”

I was like, “Did I tell you people I have a problem with my problems? He should bring back my phone and my problems!”

I was inconsolable

That night I cried myself to sleep. I prayed for a miracle. I wished I backed-up my photos and data, I regretted going to the saloon, I regretted having hair. The thought that an illiterate boy was going to sell my N52,000 phone for N5,000 hurt me.

I wore black that week as though I was mourning….

When I showed no signs of improvement, five of my friends rallied and contributed 2’K each for me to get a fairly used version of the phone. Sister gave me 10K, I had 10’K and I was able to find a guy on Twitter that sold his for me for 30k.

I still have the replacement with me and though it isn’t working properly, I smile every time I stare at it.

If I lose a phone again (GOD FORBIDS!), I will surely act that way cos I have this special connection with material things I buy with my money, especially when I save for 9 months, clean kitchens, sweep and babysit kids to afford it.

What’s your experience losing a phone?

Tell us on comment box.