[sorry it's a bit long] woiyeee, boohoohoohoo, nisaindie yameni..... *wipes tears, blows nose and snuffles loudly* I lost my beloved, cherished Huawei IDEOS smart(est) phone.... It was a cold, dark night in Gaborone - and it also happened to be my birthday. My work colleagues took me out for dinner and even before it was over, begged their leave and left me all alone in this vibrant, classy and quite well visited restaurant. Sitting on a stool next to our table was a vocalist - belting out golden oldies, and every two or three songs wishing me a happy birthday on the mic and dedicating a song to me (maybe it was the 100 Pula tip I gave him for singing "Malaika" so well). So here I am, all alone - finishing my meal and wondering how the rest of my birthday evening was going to be. Then I get a pat on my back and a guy I had been introduced to the previous week says hi and asks if he can join the table. I welcome him and he sits down, waves a hand in the air and "poof!" 3 dazzling ladies appear - one is his sister, the other his girlfriend and the third a cousin. After about another hour, the vocalist's crooning get's a bit tiring and my newfound friends suggests we find a place with a little more 'life'. Of course I am game. After a short drive we arrive at 'G-West' - Gaborone's equivalent of F1. We join the already crowded top level, find a corner at the bar, lean back and try to allow the pulsating 'house' music to sink in. By around mid-night I'm kinda ready for bed, but my friends... no way! By now they know it's my birthday and want to make sure that it is well celebrated. So we depart - driving about 30 klicks outside of Gaborone CBD to the only 24 hour joint - "Magic King" - which is absolutely packed to the brim - we try to fight our way to the bar to get a drink, give up mid dance floor, and turn back to try get out of the entrance we came in. That is when the "tsotsis" (mbulale mbastards) make their move - in a very well orchestrated motion, I (unknowingly) am surrounded by about 5 guys who seem to be dancing around me - their hands are raised, at least that's what it looks like, and their heads are bobbing to the loud, glaring beats of the 'house' music. As I try to shuffle towards the entrance, I realise something strange, these fellows seems to be dancing - moving in the same direction and at the same pace as me - we're like some kind of interconnected cluster of bodies moving synchronously towards the entrance. I push one guy who is resting on my chest away - and he immediately 'reconnects' - I do the same to another on my flank and get a similar response. It then dawns on me that I am or have been played - I swirl round, duck, lunge forward, and escape the clutches of this five tentacled octopeople that is trying to swallow me - and I'm out of the door and into the cold, fresh air outside. I find my friends out there and we all agree to call it a night and that they will drop me off at my hotel. As we enter the car I decided to check my email/facebook/twitter - you know, the usual addictive impulse that hits us socio(net)paths every 10-20minutes. I reach into my jacket breast pocket and shock! Phone gone! ....... Billions of blue, blistering, barnacles! I've been robbed! thefted! stolen! plundered! - I quickly check the rest of my pockets and find that everything else is intact - even my Nokia E5 (bought same week as my beloved HINDIOT). But alas, my swiss army knife of mobile phones, my multi-purpose, multi-faceted, multi-factor interaction interface is gone! the only bean in the githeri of my technical arsenal is lost! I am bereft.............. ..............Friends and family are meeting in my Google Plus hangout every evening from 5pm GMT for the next 5 days. Well wishers and those bringing condolences are welcome. yours truly, Mblayo