By Kyla Morris
A trip that started with excitement and was full of new experiences, ended with frustration and a wild goose chase to track down a pick pocketer and my runaway phone.
On Saturday morning we took to the Kumasi market, one of the largest in the area. This place was filled with merchants selling goods all through the streets and inside a huge 3 or 4-story complex. Products of every sort could be found and purchased. The crowds of people were unlike anything I had seen before. Every inch of road, sidewalk, and indoor shopping space was filled. So many goods to look at, no time in the world would be enough.
It was about 15 minutes before we headed back to the bus after wandering the market, our group met at the corner to collect everyone before dodging and weaving through the crowds. I took my phone out for one final picture of the sites I was surrounded by, and then we were off.
Shoulder to shoulder with everyone we passed, and making quick turns to find the quickest route to our bus that was slowly driving away with the traffic. I think I bumped into every passerby I came across. I couldn’t tell the difference between a gentle brush and the intentional distraction to swipe the phone of a confused foreigner. Finally, I made it into the bus, excited we were able to escape the craziness and find some good AC. I sat down for nearly a second and reached for my phone excited to review a few pictures I took of the day. I searched, and searched, and searched. No phone.
It was in my pocket 10 minutes ago, how could it be gone? Did it fall behind my seat or drop on the ground? No phone. My heart began to race. Immediately a classmate checked my phone location, but no recent update. The moving traffic pushed our bus along as we searched and called, trying to retrace the steps in my mind. Time was fleeting and chaos clouded my memory, the reality that my phone was gone soon set in.
The evening was spent bouncing between a friend’s phone, the FindMyFriends app, and Life360, hoping something would indicate my phone’s reappearance. A trip back to the market and two, three, four hours had passed, yet still no sign. It’s weird how discombobulated you feel without your phone, but somehow, I would have to make it work with more weeks remaining in our visit. I was mostly sad that the pictures and memories from my time in Accra would be gone, but telling my parents was my next biggest fear.
