Nowadays, mobile phones have become such an addiction to many people that they can’t even stay away from their phones for a minute. It’s now a case of pulling teeth to get some people to leave their phones to do something else. Most youths spend all day on Facebook or chatting on WhatsApp in group chats. And when you try to scold them, it’s like taking food from their mouths.
It’s so bad that even adults are caught up in this screen madness except those using their phones for online work. The small glowing screen has cast a spell on people of all ages, drawing them into a world that exists only in the palm of their hands.
I had a fair share of the mobile phone madness earlier today when I visited my elder sister to see my niece who came home from Lagos city. The anticipation of seeing family after so long filled me with excitement as I made my way to their house. I met them all at home and I was happy to see my niece who left home over 5 years ago. The first few minutes were filled with warm hugs and exclamation of how much we’d all changed.
After our formal greetings and pleasantries, everyone in the large sitting room suddenly grabbed their phones including my elder sister, the mother of the house. It was like an arranged thing. The atmosphere changed abruptly. One minute we were chatting, the next, the room was silent. Only the occasional tap or swipe on a screen broke the silence.
Everybody was quiet and I was alone. The feeling of being alone in a room full of people was overwhelming. Every attempt I made to start a conversation failed as everyone was on their phones. I didn’t have my phone with me when I left home for the visit. I left it at home to charge. So I was at a loss.
I felt bad for the experience but I couldn’t do anything about it other than to be quiet as they entertained themselves with their phones. I watched as my niece’s thumbs flew across her screen, probably messaging friends in Lagos. My sister was in much concentration as she scrolled through what I assumed was her work email. Even my bigger cousin, the talkative one, was lost in whatever game or app he was on.
I didn’t miss the irony. We had finally met after years apart and it was as if we were in different countries. The phones that were supposed to connect us to the world were disconnecting us from each other.
Minutes ticked by like hours and I thought about what to do. Should I cough loudly? Should I make an excuse and leave? Or just stay there and be a silent spectator of this modern family drama?
What could I do but say I’m leaving? So I got up and announced I was leaving. Suddenly they all remembered me and just like waking up from a deep sleep, eyes looked up and widened as if seeing me for the first time. My sister showed guilt on her face and her head twitched sideways and said, “Oh … are you leaving already?”
I tried to hide my disappointment. When my niece finally looked away from her screen, she turned to me and said: “Uncle! But you just arrived!” Her words were full of tragic irony that went unnoticed.
As I was getting up to leave, I hoped they would get it and treat this as a wake up call. Next time phones will be put aside and real communication will take precedence over virtual interruptions.
On my way home I thought about how technology that’s supposed to bring us together can sometimes do the opposite. I decided to myself that from now on I will be more mindful of my phone and spend more time with friends in person.
Reaching my front door, I stopped and looked through the window and saw the faint green light of my phone’s screen, it was fully charged and there might be missed calls or messages waiting for me. I took a deep breath and entered the room with a resolve not to check it at least for the rest of the evening because most of the notifications that matter are the ones we get from the people right next us, if only we were paying attention.