I was fast asleep on my bunk bed at 3 a.m. when my subconscious sensed a shift in the air. Suddenly, I jolted from my sleep and looked at where I had plugged my phone. All I could see was the charger still plugged in, no phone in sight.

I remember the dreadful feeling that overcame my body. My brain instantly went into denial mode. It cannot be; it’s not true. I just bought this phone two weeks ago. There is no way.

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I swiftly made my way to my roommate’s bedside; she was in a deep sleep. I shoved her awake and asked if she saw my phone. “Isn’t it under the bed? I thought you plugged it before sleeping." She responded groggily.

So many thoughts were racing in my head. God, let this not be what I’m thinking. But we bolted the door and locked the windo…. shit!

I glanced towards the window and quickly rushed to it, and that’s when my worst fear was confirmed. The window was, in fact, unlocked.

I remember feeling like I was punched in the stomach. I didn’t even know when I ran out of the room and let out a very loud wail

“Window men have taken my phone. God, what am I going to do?” I cried out.

My cry traveled through the deathly, silent halls of Lady Ibiam hostel. On hearing the cries, several doors could be heard unlocked, and curious girls stepped out of their rooms in a bid to figure out the unlucky fellow whose phone was stolen.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had occurred in our hostel. In fact, it was so normal that it had become a tradition. There were seasons and periods in which we, the students, anticipated strikes from the so called “Window Men".

They earned their name from their mode of entry into our rooms, which was always through the windows.

After some minutes, a small crowd had gathered in front of my room. Some people were there to console and sympathize, while others only wanted the gist.

I was so disoriented and heartbroken; I couldn’t even hold myself together.
I was in hot soup. What was I going to tell my mother, who bought the phone just two weeks prior?

“This is the last phone I will buy for you, so you better protect it if you know what is good for you.” She had warned me as she handed me the phone. There was no way I could tell her it had been stolen.

My roommate gave me a consoling hug and guided me through the crowd and back to our room.

This unfortunate incident happened to me two years ago, when I was back in school. It was the second time in school that my phone was stolen. This experience left me traumatized for two reasons.

First off, the “Window Men” were presumed to be men, so the thought of a man breaking into a room filled with girls at night is so disturbing. I mean, what if we were naked or in our underwear, and the man had other ideas?

Also, I developed some level of trauma that affected the way I handle my things. It made me very careful with my belongings.

I no longer felt comfortable or safe in my own room. After the incident, anytime I needed to sleep, I would lock up all my valuables inside my cupboard and look for a clever place to hide the key.

Even when I eventually changed rooms and moved to the topmost floor of the enormous 3 storey building, I still locked my things up before sleeping. There was no way the window men could reach my floor, but I didn’t want to take chances either.

This significant experience taught me an important lesson, which is;

No looseguard. Shine your eyes, or dey go run you street.

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