The five stages of grief in losing a phone

In Summary
  • I actually burst into tears just thinking of what I would tell my parents
A woman uses her phone
A woman uses her phone

The five stages of grief, I experienced all these first-hand the day I lost my phone. They say “Nairobi si ya mama yako” and indeed it’s not. On a casual weekend hiatus in November 2021, this catastrophe befell me. It was in the middle of sherehe, drinking and catching up with friends at Pavillion, what used to be one of my frequent locals in Roysambu. Anyway, I no longer go there.

I was at that moment under the influence, where I was not too sure whether I had kept my phone in the bag or had given a friend to keep it for me; confusion. I checked my bag; I couldn’t find it. Next, I approached each of my friends with the question, “Btw ukona simu yangu?

Once everyone confirmed that none of them had my phone. Let me tell you, I sobered up immediately, zilishuka haraka sana. Nothing was funny anymore. In a state of denial, I tried to retrace my steps, rechecked my bag but nothing, my iPhone was gone.

Well in anger and fury, my friends tried helping me track it through the Find My iPhone feature but no luck. I actually burst into tears just thinking of what I would tell my parents and the inevitable reality of going back to owning an Android phone. Then comes bargaining, the regret of “Why was I so careless with my phone?”.

While still in the process of making efforts to track my phone, one of my friends, Lumumba was like, “Yaani Papu (my nickname) umepoteza nduthi hivyo” Because in fact the price of the phone back then was equivalent to the price of a motorcycle (boda) or even a plot in Kamulu.

Sherehe yangu iliishia tu hapo” and one of my friends Celine offered to host me in her house so that I could cool off and compose myself. It was late so I couldn’t go home the same day. Anyway, we reached my friend’s place and slept it off; “Ju sa ningedo? Kama imeenda imeenda”

The next day reached and thank God for good friends because Celine paid my Uber home as all my money was in my phone. I reached home and explained to my mother what “had happened”. Okay to be honest, I told her a completely different story of how I lost my phone. Fingers crossed, that she doesn’t read this. In Kikuyu her response was, “Haiya Thiĩ Safaricom ùgirì line ìgì tùdu nù maiyì besha [Go to Safaricom and get a new line as the thieves might steal your money]”.

No pity was shown towards me afterwards and for four months it was just me and my kabambe against the world; the true epitome of the final stage, which was acceptance.

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