#phonegoesforaswim 2

In that moment, my head was spinning in a maze of panic. “I MUST save my phone!”

I rushed out, opened the tap and washed my hands. Then I raced back into the stall and peered into the bowl. The phone was still there. “Should I flush again? But if I do, the phone could end up in one of Kampala’s deepest sewers. No.”

I washed my hands again. I don't even know why I was washing my hands.

Then, feeling like Superwoman, I shut my eyes tight and plunged my hand into the toilet bowl. I had rescued my phone but the screen was blank. It felt heavy. And dead. 

I had no time to think. I took off to the studio, sat down and opened the teleprompter. I tossed the lifeless gadget under the table, on the carpet. The bumper was already playing. I went through the bulletin like a zombie, my mind on my dying cell, willing it to come to life in the five minutes I was on air. 

It was still lifeless when I was done. I removed the battery and simcard, and shook the phone vigorously to take the water out. 

I thought of washing it (it had come out of the toilet water…), then I pretended it was already clean.
Google became my best friend. One search recommended dipping and hiding it in a bowl of dry uncooked rice. Another advised on the use of a vacuum cleaner (where the hell was I going to get a vacuum cleaner???). The third said to use paper towels. 

I opted for dry rice. I raced down the stairs to the supermarket which was not open anyway. I bought a kilo from those shops opposite Nakasero market. 

The instructions said to keep it in the rice overnight then switch on after 24 hours. I couldn't keep myself from checking after every three, five, two minutes. 

Anyway, unlike Pam Nax's iphone 5, my beloved blue Nokia Model 3310, which I had owned for only five days, could not be resuscitated. It was zonked out, drowned in a bowl of clean toilet water.