The other day, I lost my new phone – again! Ever since my Motorola handset was snatched from me in a taxi last year, I have tried to be extra careful.

Indeed, when Aggrey gave me a brand new expensive Nokia phone, I made sure that it was always hidden away safely in my pocket.

With the new Nokia in my pocket, I was sure that I would last another three years with no need to replace it. However, last Sunday, I fell victim again.
 
It all started when some friends of mine invited me for several rounds. They were at the popular High Noon bar doing justice to chicken wings and Amstels.

A hangover had stuck to me until around 4p.m. when I struggled to get out of bed. As I was preparing myself for a sound rest at home, my phone rang.

It was my buddies who had convened at High Noon just behind Chez Lando. They told me that they had found a cure for the hangover: "Hey Diaspoman, don’t you know that a hangover can only be cured by an ice cold Amstel?”

He he he, how right they were! So I jumped on a boda-boda and headed to High Noon. They were in a great mood as they crushed chicken after chicken. I joined in and clobbered as many as possible.

As we continued to enjoy the drinks, our group started to increase in numbers. No! Not fellow guys! Instead it was strikingly beautiful ladies that joined us.

Apparently as the booze climbed into our heads, our eyes started to convince us that any passerby who was dressed in a skirt had to join us.

So we pulled more chairs and ordered more drinks for our new acquaintances. In the process we began to get quite close and personal. We started to ask each other questions such as; "Will you marry me?”

We drank on for many more hours. High Noon was abuzz at midnight. The lady who was seated next to me continued to cajole me throughout the evening. She then asked me for a ‘unité’. For those who do not know what a unité is, let me clarify.

A ‘unité’ refers to telephone airtime. Whenever someone asks you for a unité, it means he or she wants to borrow your phone to make a call. So when this chick requested me for one unité, I found myself pulling my expensive Nokia from my pocket.

I gave it to her and told her "Please feel free. Call anywhere you want. Even Canada!” (The truth of the matter is that I was on per second billing otherwise known as PSB, and I think my balance was about Frw 200).

I gave her the phone and because High Noon was noisy with blaring music, she headed outside to make her call. The moment she walked out of the High Noon gates was the moment I said farewell to my new handset. I waited and waited but my chick never returned.

By the time I realised that I had been duped, it was too late. We quizzed the remaining ladies but it was of no use. The girls were total strangers amongst themselves. In fact each one thought we had come with the others.

"We do not know that person at all!” I was cooked! I felt like a real jerk. This 1 unité had cost me much more than I had anticipated…
  
Contact: diaspoman@yahoo.com