I really should be working on a paper now, but whatever, the story of this particular handphone is much more appealing for me than the pattern of women’s labor migration. Not that it is an important story, but mind you, I like telling stories no matter how ridiculously useless they are. Anyway, instead of writing, I usually tell my stories, mostly to Jihan, my former housemate’s 1-year-old daughter. She was such a good listener, and responded too. Yes, with her own language, and yes, I didn’t mind that as long as I could tell my stories. That’s how pathetic I am.
Now that Jihan’s gone back to Indonesia, I only get to tell my stories to my friends and being a loner that I am, I don’t fancy meeting people every single day. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy hanging out with friends. But I like being alone just as much. Maybe a little bit more. Anyway, since I’m all alone in this shoe-box-sized room of mine and there is no other living creature here – well maybe microorganism, but I can’t really talk to them, can I? So, I’m just going to write about it. After all, that’s what blogs are for, right?
I bought the phone some time in 2008. It is a cheap small black nok*a, I didn’t even know the series. Still don’t, actually. I intended it to be an emergency phone, but when my primary phone broke and I couldn’t afford a new flashy one, I ended up using it for two years. During that two years, it got lost twice. But it always came back.
I lost it once in my aunt’s house, and later found it just under the tyre of her car. How did it get there? I have no idea, since we didn’t go anywhere with that car that day.
The second time, I lost it when I visited a relative. On the way home, I realized that I had lost my phone. I lost it somewhere between my relative’s house and the point where I noticed that my phone was gone. So, like what other people would do, I tried to call my number. No answer. Of course. I called my relative, and asked her to search her house. Nada. So I gave up. We were almost home when my cousin received a call from my number. The caller said that her children found my phone and that she wanted me to just let go of the phone. I thought, what the hell?! I mean, what kind of people does that? Claiming something that clearly belongs to someone else. Geez. I told her that I need the phone and I can’t just give it. So she asked me to pay and I did. And I got my phone back for the second time.
It was left forgotten when I eventually bought a new phone. It did come out of the drawer sometimes, usually when I needed it to use with another phone card to call my family back in Indonesia. That was all. I even left it uncharged for weeks. Given the most possible protection that I gave it – in a purse in a drawer in my room – it seemed impossible for me lost it, right? But I did.. Two more times.
It was 10 in the morning and I was late for class, so I got off the university loop bus in a hurry. I only noticed that I had lost my phone two hours later. I checked my seat and even the seats close to mine. But it was nowhere to be found. I went to the lost and found station, and Mr.Security said that it hadn’t shown up yet. When I went back to the loop bus to ask the driver, I saw him about to get off the bus while holding a phone. So I stopped him and asked. “I was just about to go to the lost and found to return this. Is this it?” He said. Of course it was. There, it came back to me for the third time.
A few weeks ago, I stayed overnight at the campus and went back home at about 5. Halfway home, I wanted to check the time, so I looked for my phone. I realized that I had left it in the library, and I wasn’t going to go back there to collect it since it was dark and cold and the walk was just exhausting. At that moment, I thought if the phone was really lost, I deserved it. I asked my friend, who usually come early to the campus to check at the lost and found station. As expected, it hadn’t show up yet at both the lost and found and the library. So i gave up hope. I came to campus late in the afternoon, and just for the hell of it, I went to the lost and found station, and they said they had found a phone that matched my description. I was so so glad, but when they showed me a phone, it wasn’t mine. I went to the library, and the lady at the counter went inside to check and came back with the phone. Oh my God! I don’t say “oh-my-God” that much, but “oh-my-God” really described that moment. You know, the moment we were about to get back together. Oh, it was so romantic. We couldn’t wait to be in each other’s arms again, but the lady asked me to sign this and sign that and dial the number, “Just a procedure.” she said. And finally, finally we could rejoice in togetherness one more time.
You know, I gotta admire the phone’s survival skill…
It’s my favorite, now. My iphone just has to be patient if I forgot to recharge it 😛
Anyway, this is THE phone: