Sometimes I feel like I’m going to start all my posts in
tears, or because of tears. I’m
not used to feeling so helpless, so powerless, so trapped. Last night my cell phone was
inactivated because of lack of verification. Chris got me my SIM card, so I could have a phone here. I have to have one. I need to call my driver. I need to answer texts about the kids
schools. I have to be able to
reach people or I risk being completely stranded alone in India, or alone with
my kids in India. This is not the
India of the movies. This is dirt
roads and wandering cows and horses and goats and wild dogs and cats and
snakes. It’s men who glare at me
and women who stare at me.
The phone is in Chris’ name. I can’t get one yet, not in my name. I think I need my Foreign Registration
before I can get one. I worry I
may not be able to get one at all because I’m on a dependent Visa. To get the phone, Chris has to give
them copies of his passport, his Indian Visa, his Foreigner Registration, and a
passport sized photo (or four). He
gives them all these things, and then a week or so after the phone is active
they do a “Welcome Visit.” Or they
say they do. When they don’t, they
text you saying to call this number to schedule your welcome visit. When you call that number, it says the
phone is switched off, try again later.
So you try a few times and give up. Oh well. Um, not oh well.
Suddenly you cannot make outgoing calls and your data is turned
off. So you can’t call your driver
when he disappears when you’ve dropped the kids off, or after he’s dropped you
at a shop. That’s when you realize
that you’re in a foreign country where everyone speaks just enough English to
not understand you and not be understood,
your husband is away on business on another continent (it’s OK, you
can’t reach him anyhow), and you feel completely lost.
So, I dropped the kids off at school and went home, and the
driver asked to go to lunch. I
told him I needed to go back out in 50 minutes and he needed to be back. He kept telling me to call him. I kept telling him my phone didn’t work
and he needed to be back. At the
mercy of an Indian man I only met yesterday who hardly speaks any English.
I went inside, hung some laundry to dry, folded some laundry, realized Danesh
was not coming today, tidied up a bit and hoped he’d come back. When he did, I asked Baru to take me to
the Vodafone store because my phone wasn’t working, so off we went.
At Vodafone, first we were told, no problem, sir comes in
Saturday for verification and all is OK.
No sir. I have 3 small
children and need to be able to reach people and be reached. I’m told to step aside, sit down. Baru sits with me a bit, then
hovers. So I hover. But frustratingly, after 25 minutes,
I’ve started to cry. Silently, hoping
no one notices, feeling helpless and ignored. We finally get a woman to help me, but she has no power
whatsoever, but spends 25 minutes sending emails (in painfully slow English
using autocorrect to correct
message when she can’t spell it-resulting in massage, struggling with receive
so long that she chooses another word, while I’m just dying to spell it all for
her), and calling Jain sir who doesn’t answer his phone. When he does finally call her back, there
is not enough signal for the call (we’re in the Vodafone store), so she borrows
a phone off a co-worker. There are
no land lines. She tried and tried
and eventually I’m told that in 2 hours I can restart my phone an it’ll
work. I am not holding my breath!
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