Dial W for Whaaaaat?

I have long bemoaned the problems with cell phones here. Everybody uses them because as Mozambique started developing, it was cheaper and more practical than using landlines. Most people have at least one cellphone (with a prepayed account, no contracts) because it is both a status symbol, and they will have one for each of the two carriers. Nowadays, phones have started showing up for sale (that are obviously pirated and from China, but mostly functional) that have space for two SIM cards, allowing people to consolidate their phone into one big, shiny, Noika, Blackbery, Samsun, or countless other knock-offs.

The reason to have a number with each of the two networks is that one is likely to just plain not work. If you really need to you can use the other number to get a hold of somebody. I've talked about how calls drop at an alarming rate (and most never go through to start with) and how text messages can sometimes get delivered hours or days later.

But now I've got a new conundrum. What happens when your phone changes numbers on you?

Such was the predicament last week when I tried to call Daniel, a worker at the orphanage. I knew he was out as his farm and I needed to get him on the phone to ask him a question. I was a little surprised when my call to Daniel, who is single and my roommate, was answered by a girl. The exchange was a little awkward.

TJ: Daniel?

Random Girl: Who?

TJ: Umm, is Daniel there?

Girl: I don't think so. Who is this?

TJ: His roommate. Where is the owner of the telephone?

Girl: Right here. It's me.

TJ: No, the owner. DANIEL! Give the phone to him.

Girl: There is no Daniel here. Try calling again later.

There was considerable confusion on my part. I tried Daniel's other phone number, but the call wouldn't go through. I went to somebody else to confirm that I had the right number for Daniel, who I have called literally hundreds of times. I was using the right number. I called again.

Girl: Yes?

TJ: WHERE IS DANIEL I NEED TO TALK TO HIM NOW!?

Girl: Daniel you say?

TJ: Yes, Daniel. Daniel Daniel.

Girl: Hmm, I think he is a coworker of mine, let me call him and ask where he is.

TJ: No, he's a coworker of mine. Give the phone to him!

Girl: Hmm, I think you need to calm down. Goodbye.

Through the day, several other people started asking me what was wrong with Daniel's phone, because this chick kept answering whenever they called him. Eventually, Daniel called me on an unrelated not and was surprised to hear that I had been trying to reach him. His phone had been in his pocket the whole day. He was even more surprised when I called him and this girl answered once again! We finally figured out that she lives in Maputo (thousands of km away) and is tired of getting phone calls for this Daniel guy and wants to know what is happening.

It turns out that for whatever reason, the cell network (or whatever it is) just all on its own decided to redirect all of Daniel's calls to this random telephone number. The number also happened to be on a different network. A short trip the next day to the cell phone store and it all got straightened out and now his calls work just fine.

Now, I had known that calls occasionally get misplaced. I never answer my phone after 5pm from an unidentified number because it always somebody going, “Hey, [Billy, Fred, Susan, any name except mine]. How are you doing? What's up?” It is obviously a call never meant for me. I used to think people just typed a number wrong, but now I realize that there are these misplaced calls.

And yes, as numerous people have since told me, this is the kind of thing that breaks up marriages. Just a simple phone call to your husband, and then some strange unknown lady's voice answers, says that person is not here, and abruptly hangs up. People know that phone calls get "misplaced" so to speak, but all it takes here is for one person once upon a time to have used that excuse and now every Dick, Tom, and Harry is telling there wife that they didn't lend their phone to anybody, it must have been a bad connection.

There is already such a level of mistrust among spouses here at large that even little spark will set off a powder keg. When we have been doing construction and have workers staying late, we will have to accompany them home all the way to their houses, make eye contact with their spouses, and declare that he was working late and was not out somewhere he doesn't belong.