Home Cellphone The Nomad

The home cellphone is a nomad. It trots from room to room. Actually, it’s many cellphones blended into one because all inhabitants have them. You can hear the trot because the home is usually as quiet as a tomb.

The stillness is respect for the phone space so that all inhabitants can enjoy their machines. Therefore, television is permanently off, since it intrudes into that peace and quiet. There’s brief mayhem when ringtones go off simultaneously. Amber, take your call.

Because of irritating human needs like hunger, inhabitants field requests, such as helping someone open a tight jar of spaghetti sauce, chop vegetables, get the wok from a top shelf or wash the car. Wait, my phone. You’ll get help alright, but only when the owner places it within reach, like the Queen’s Guards, upright and alert.

The cellphone is such a nomad, it ventures into temporary spaces like the bathroom. It’s not a long term space, just meet and greet. Massaging a phone in there causes friction, because time stands still, with one person forgetting the bathroom is a brief encounter, not a hotel stay.

Nomads are free. They wander about with no regard for footprints they leave behind. Cellphones also leave footprints on a pavement, still wet with cement, especially the question, what is family?

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.