Simba Mugabi
It started with a man pacing outside my shop in Kampala, Uganda, hesitating like he couldn’t decide whether to come in or run. I see all kinds of people—thieves trying to sell stolen phones, desperate customers begging for impossible repairs, teenagers who just want to browse and touch things they can’t afford. But this man was different. He was well-dressed, not flashy, just neat. The kind of person who doesn’t usually look lost.
When he finally stepped inside, he didn’t look at the displays. Instead, he placed a phone on the counter without a word. It was an expensive model, barely a year old, but the screen was shattered. That wasn’t unusual. What was strange was the way his hands trembled.
“Screen replacement?” I asked, inspecting the damage.
He nodded. I gave him the price. He didn’t even blink, just pulled out the cash and placed it down. That was my second warning—people usually haggle.
I got to work, prying the broken glass loose, heating the adhesive, carefully fitting the new screen into place. I didn’t ask questions. It’s better that way. But as I worked, the phone vibrated in my hands. Then again. And again. Messages kept lighting up the screen, even through the repair mode I had activated.
I don’t snoop, but I don’t ignore either. The previews were visible. Where are you? Please talk to me. We can fix this. Then a missed call, then another.
The man stood stiffly, arms crossed. He had noticed the vibrations too. I pretended not to. I just finished the job, wiped the screen clean, and slid the phone back to him.
“Good as new,” I said.
He picked it up but didn’t move. Instead, he stared at it like it was something dangerous. Then, just when I thought he would leave, he did something strange. He powered it off, removed the SIM card, and placed both on the counter.
Before I could react, he turned and walked out. I watched him disappear into the street, his hands still shaking.
That night, I locked the phone in the drawer. Whatever he was running from, it wasn’t my business. But I couldn’t help wondering what message had made him want to disappear.