Not Again

A week later and I’ve not recovered from the shock, and grief one could possibly go through when they lose something of utmost importance. I’m still in mourning and every effort to replace my beloved is not working. I can’t help but compare every feature with that of the previous one.

I lost my phone last week on Friday evening.

Yeah you’re right it was an Infinix. Its okay all you I-phone users can laugh your lungs out and wonder how on earth a millenial survives using an Infinix. After all an apple a day, right?Tecno guys please keep your cool.

I am at Khoja bus stop and there are no javs ( I’ve been waiting for a life time to use this word) in sight it had been raining all day and automatically rain carries away all our matatus. Every time it rains not only do we have to pay a hundred bob for a distance that we pay thirty bob but also wait for a mat to show up for an hour. This is one of the mysteries am yet to understand about Nairobi.

Anyway so here i am holding on to my bag when one mat finally comes over.

“Kabete, Wangige mia”

“50 kusimama”

Mums who know it’s way past Brandon’s feeding time rush in.Wa Shiku also knows Baba Shiku is already home with his feet on the stool waiting for his evening cup of tea also pushes her way in. Mike also does push his way in; its been thirty minutes since Sheila texted

“Uko wapi? ”

” I hope huplan boys night out nikiwa nimeboeka kwa hao bila series na vile nimesota na ii baridi”

What he doesn’t get is the relationship between kusota na baridi but he still makes his way into the mat asap before she calls to confirm his whereabouts.

The mat fills up and leaves, am left at the same spot as cold as ever. I make a resolution to board the next mat that comes before i freeze up. When it finally shows up i make my way to the door. This is where all the party is at. Elbows, sharp bones and big hips are the only neccesary assurances that you’ll get into the mat at this point. Am lucky i got elbows (just elbows)

I finally get in; spot an empty seat next to the back bench and take it. I feel like a hero right now, a true African woman, one who can get her way in any situation, a quality i would love to add on my c.v.

Just as i open my bag to pull out my phone and check my whatsapp i realize its already open. I assume i left it that way even though I remember zipping it up after placing my phone back.

The last thing I want to believe is that there is a chance my phone is gone,i check my bag, nothing, my pockets, i have none, the other bag with a few things i picked up; nothing

I freeze. I want to scream and cry but i can’t, am in a mat that is now leaving the stage without my phone. I ask the guy seated next to me to call me which he does, it rings but not in my bag and no where near me. He calls a second time, this time it gets switched off. I finally agree i have lost another phone in a span of three months.

With it goes, my only way to post on this blog, my screenshots, (i live up to the expectations of a true modern day woman. We always have ammunition), my meme collection which is like a part of me and the post i had been struggling to write on my way to town.

I console myself it was only an infinix then i remember i can’t even afford those ones with Chinese names you can’t pronounce. My bank account is not wailing it is too dry to even produce a tear. I don’t know how I will explain to anyone that i lost another phone.

Next time I’d rather get those poaches Shosho hangs around her neck and stuffs in her bossom or buy those underpants that have tiny pockets. Anything that can keep my phone away from enemies of my progress who keep sniffing it out.

Any suggestions anyone? I need to keep this one safe.