I never knew that losing a phone could break someone the way it broke me. My name is Joel, and I stay in Najjera, Kampala. I had spent almost a full year saving money from my mobile money business to buy myself an iPhone 14. I wanted it so much because I felt I had also reached a point where I deserved something nice in my life. When I finally walked out of the shop in Kampala with my brand-new phone, I felt like the happiest man alive. I took pictures, called my sister, and even slept with the phone next to my pillow that night. Life felt different, and for once, I felt proud of myself.
But all that joy lasted for only one day. The next afternoon, while I was walking around Old Taxi Park, a thief on a motorcycle rode past me and snatched the iPhone straight from my hands. Everything happened so fast that even my voice got stuck in my throat. Before I knew it, he had disappeared into the crowd and speeding traffic. I stood there confused, shaking, and unable to move. That phone was not just a gadget; it was the result of sleepless nights, sacrifices, and many months of saving small coins. Losing it felt like losing a part of myself.
That first night, I cried like a child. For one whole week, I hardly ate or slept. My friends tried to comfort me, but they didn’t understand how much that phone meant to me. Some even laughed, saying, “My brother, Kampala thieves don’t return phones.” Others told me to accept the loss and move on. But deep inside me, I refused to believe that my nine months of savings had just vanished like that. I felt pain, anger, and hopelessness all at once.
It was during that second week of suffering that someone in Kalerwe market told me about Shaba Mangube traditional healers, saying they help people recover stolen property using a special recovery spell. At first, I thought it was a joke because I had never tried anything like that before. But pain forces a person to try things they never imagined. I asked for the contact, and the man who told me the story gave it to me quickly, saying they had even helped his cousin recover stolen goats. I didn’t even think twice. That same evening, I contacted them on +254795613711 and explained everything, including how I had lost the phone. They assured me they would help me even without me going to meet them physically. They cast the recovery spell that night and told me to relax because the phone would come back in a surprising way.
I didn’t know what to expect, but something inside me calmed for the first time since the incident. The next few days passed slowly. Then, in the middle of the second week, something unbelievable happened. A police officer from Wandegeya called me asking if I had recently lost a phone. I almost dropped the small Tecno I was using temporarily. I rushed to the station immediately, sweating and shaking. When I arrived, the officer asked me to describe the phone and the wallpaper. I did, and he reached into a drawer and pulled out my actual iPhone 14. My legs almost failed me.
I held the phone and checked everything. My photos were still there, my apps untouched. I felt tears filling my eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. The officer told me the thief had been arrested in Kawaala after being suspected in another robbery. When they searched him, they found several stolen items, including my phone. If the timing had delayed even one more day, the phone would have already been sold.
Walking out of the police station that day, I felt like the sun was shining brighter. I had suffered, cried, begged God, and lost hope, but somehow everything worked out. I honestly believe that if I hadn’t contacted Shaba Mangube traditional healers, the phone would never have come back. Their recovery spell worked in a way I still cannot explain.
Today, I guard my phone like treasure. I don’t walk around carelessly anymore, and I don’t flash my phone in crowded places. What happened to me taught me that life can change within seconds. It also taught me that solutions exist in places we sometimes ignore.
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Whenever I look at my phone, I remember the pain, the one week of crying, the hopeless nights, and the miracle that happened in the second week. If you are going through something similar—whether it’s theft, loss, or something that feels impossible—there is hope. My story is proof that what feels lost can return in the most unexpected way.
