Losing my most precious phone
By Bekezela Mguni
Losing my brand new Samsung S3 phone was like losing a limb. In the few days that I had the phone I had become inseparable to it.
Everything changed swiftly like a dream. One minute I was excited about owning a new phone. The next minute I was in deep agony after a stranger had asked to use my phone and ran off with it.
It all started in March 2013 when l had just written my Ordinary Level examinations. I was in South Africa on holidays, waiting for my results. A few months later, one of my high school teachers sent me a message to inform me that l had done extremely well. I was so excited that l had passed the examinations.
My brother added to my happiness by giving me a new Samsung S3 phone for doing well at school. I could not stop thanking him. This was my first phone and it was beautiful.
Oh God! I was ecstatic. For days, l kept going through the phone applications and learning how to make maximum use of it. I wanted to upload additional applications such as Facebook so that l could let the world know l had a phone too. I could not keep my phone out of sight. It was the most precious thing anyone had ever given to me.
My mother on the other hand could not stand the idea of me owning a phone. Initially she was happy for me until l began spending too much time on the phone. I would neglect my duties because of the phone. Even when l was cooking l would burn the food because all my attention was on the phone. I had made new friends on Facebook and they kept me busy. I kept forgetting to do my house chores.
A week after getting the new phone, l went to the nearby gym for free WI-FI. I wanted to download more applications and chat with my friends. When l got to the gym, l downloaded the applications l needed. I downloaded a few songs too.
On my way back home l met a decent looking guy. He was clean and probably in his late twenties. We exchanged greetings. He asked that l make a phone call for him. He claimed that his phone battery had died. He showed me his phone and l believed him. He gave me the number that he wanted me to call. I dialled the number and it went straight to voicemail. I tried the number twice and it was still on voicemail. He asked to check if l had dialled the correct number. I handed him my phone. Before l knew it he was gone. He ran away with my phone and went to the car that was parked on the other side of the road and they vanished.
I screamed so hard like a maniac but it was of no use. He was gone. I felt like I was having a terrible nightmare. I should not have trusted that guy to begin with. But then it was too late. The phone was gone. He did not look in any way like a thug. He was more like a church guy than a thug actually.
That was how l lost my precious first phone.
When l got home l was weeping. My story did not make sense when I narrated it to my family. But it was what it was. Just like that. My phone was gone. My mother tried to console me but l was deeply heartbroken. I could not eat. I just went straight to bed and cried myself to sleep.
This article was written as part of the Creative Centre for Communication and Development (CCCD) project that seeks to strengthen the voices of women and girls, especially under the grim impact of the Coronavirus (COVID 19). CCCD used the WhatsApp mobile application to train women and girls so that they express their voices on what is happening in their communities
