– = Mohammed = –

During a trip to Egypt, my wife and I bought local sim cards. Immediately note, prices there on the outgoing so miserable that 5 backs can be enough for several months. Per this is somehow due to the growing competition between the three operators: Vodafone, Mobinil, Etisalat (for example, we will say our stunned "three"). Therefore, all the local Aboriginals all day long only do what they are trending and trending on their squeezed mobile phones. Because they love it and know it. This is an important part of their culture, without which they would be boring to live. And this is an important point in this story because calls for them are really cheap.
Probably I got someone’s former number. In principle, this is normal, tourists come and go, throw out the sims. Why leave numbers? No activity for a while, we sell again. And then I got to call some Egyptian and ask some Mohammed. Usually the conversation begins like this:
Allow me!
Oh yes allo.
Allow me! and Mohammed?
There were three variations.
First, wait for any of my answers and ask again.
Second, wait for an answer and ask something like, “What did you do to Muhammad, you have a clear judgment here!“”
And the third, silent in the trumpet, waiting for Muhammad to speak to him himself.
So it lasted five days. During this time, I repeatedly tried to explain in English to the Egyptian that he had mistaken the number so that he would not call here anymore, that there was no Mohammed here, that you were Muhammad and that Muhammad was dead.
The stubborn Egyptian did not give up.
I had to put his number on the blacklist of my phone. ha ha! He called from another number.
I put his number on the blacklist. He called from the third.
In principle, I wasn’t very bored, he just called sometimes at the wrong time, well, God with him.
The end of this story was when he called again. At that time we were back in the minibus from another tour. The charm started again. A great idea came to my mind. How did I not think before? I pull the phone to a Russian-speaking guide and say, find out, say, what does this guy need?
The guide takes the phone and runs away... believe it? No, it is a joke. Where will he escape from the minibus at 100 km/h? A short guide takes the phone, some 15 minutes talking to this telephone terrorist. He returns his cell phone and is silent.
I am confused. I ask what happened? What he wanted?
The guide turns to me and says:
The name of this man is Akiki. Muhammad was buried. He put a cell phone with that number in his grave. After a while, he decided to call him. I don’t understand why someone else responds. I had difficulty explaining it to him.
Upon arrival, I gave the guide tea. No one asked Muhammad anymore.