It was Friday evening, the last lecture for the week. Every Friday, lecturers would always love to keep us longer than necessary. The sun was already waving us goodbye when I stepped out of the well-lit lecture hall. With my bag hung on my shoulder, I dragged my every step out of tiredness. Getting home, I was welcomed by my only companion, the old couch left on my veranda. The only seat I came to meet in the house with no knowledge of its origin.
I quickly fell on it to regain my strength. Dipping my hand into my bag, I remembered my phone screen. My phone's screen blinked nonstop, leaving me sighing at the uncertainty of clear communication.
The issue of blinking nonstop to a white screen has been a problem I have been ignoring since I had my way of maneuvering the problem. My procrastination whenever I remember how I'm struggling with it ends with "I will take it to Ukeme after lectures tomorrow." Even with the difficulty I face trying to operate the phone, I still keep procrastinating. Social media became like an enemy because whenever I tried to visit any, the screen flickered.
As usual, I will use my thumb to support the volume button, and then it allows me to test the joy of owning a phone. Then, I would be happy again and tell myself confidently, "It's still not bad. I don't have any money for any phone repair yet."
Mr. Abasifreke had informed us about his test on Monday. After my dinner on Saturday night, I decided to take some hours to look into my photocopied materials. As I was on the material, I remember Blessing promised to send me some recent PDFs Mr. Abasifreke had mandated us to read. I was anticipating her sending them and, at the same time, praying my phone would behave itself and allow me to read all the important points.
I waited all night till I slept off on my book, but there was no notification on my WhatsApp account. It was in the evening she finally sent all of them. After the call ended, I tried opening WhatsApp, but the screen went blank again. As usual, I tried my usual nonstop long pressing of my upper button, but it failed. I rebooted the phone, tried phone resetting, and shook it from one angle to the other, all to see if any would just make the phone pick up again. But all refused.
I became frustrated. I had to beg my neighbor to help me reach Blessing with her phone. "Hello Blessing, this is Maryanne. After our call, as I was about to take my phone off my ear, it went completely blank. I have tried all I could to no avail," I aired my pain with a high level of frustration.
"Maryanne, I keep telling you to fix this phone! Why won’t you listen to simple advice? What are you going to do now? Those PDFs are mandatory; you have to go through them because you know Mr. Abasifreke whenever he drops PDFs."
I felt so pained, though she wasn't lying. She had told myself countless times to repair my phone. I wasn't ready to fail Mr. Abasifreke's test because not reading those PDFs is a clear path to failure. I returned to my neighbor's room and begged her. She accepted that Blessing should send the PDFs to her WhatsApp account.
Trying to reach Blessing's line again to inform her to do so was a problem. From server unavailable to not reachable. After several failed calls, she suggested I send her a text, and I asked my neighbor to notify me once she replied.
I returned to my room frustrated. I couldn't sleep; I waited for her to knock on my door, but nothing came. I was sad and angry; the only thing to revive my happiness was being able to go through the PDFs, but sleep knew the impossibility and stole me away. At 6:20 am, my neighbor's knock woke me up. "Your friend dropped a message on WhatsApp," she shouted.
I jumped off the bed for my door. I opened the door and she handed the phone over to me. "Don't invade my privacy," those were her only words, and she left me with the phone. I assured her I wouldn't and went straight to Blessing's message.
"I'm sorry, I got the SMS late. I just hope you are able to pick out some vital points. Don't sleep on any page; at this point in your life, all you need to do is scan. Take care; see you in school."
I was happy but anxious. I was left with just an hour to digest three different PDFs. I started my scanning, making sure I jotted down necessary points. I focused on the topics he had made great emphasis on till my time elapsed. I quickly returned the phone with gratitude and prepared for school.
I was expected to get to the venue at 8 am since his lecture was the first on Monday morning. I dressed quickly and took all the necessary things I needed, including the phone, which lay helpless on the table where I abandoned it.
Luckily I got to the venue and Mr. Abasifreke was yet to arrive. That gave me another chance to read with Blessing's phone. It was around 9am he arrived, and without speaking to anyone, he wrote test boldly on the whiteboard. A clear notice that we should take everything away and get our white sheet and pen ready.
The test that morning wasn't funny. Out of five questions, three came from the PDFs. Though my reading was a rushed one, I was still able to attempt it all, though I struggled with providing the answers correctly as I would have done if I had dedicated adequate preparation for the test. After the test, I was exhausted, curious, and skeptical about what my score would be.
That same day, Blessing and I went straight to a phone repair shop. The guy loosened the phone, and after his inspection, gave me a look and shook his head, "If only you had brought this phone when the issue started, it wouldn't have been this serious. But right now, the screen has already been damaged. You will need to buy a new screen."
It was that day I learnt that truly, a stitch in time saves nine. I had no money to get a new phone then; I ended up spending more than what I ever imagined. From that day, I realized how procrastination had cost me not just money, but my peace of mind.
The Above Image is Mine
