DIALING A WRONG NUMBER IN 1972

 

In modern times, dialing a wrong number brings you to a dead end. Lucky if the other party even says goodbye before they hang up. Lucky if the other party even answers the phone, since they probably won't recognize your number.

But in the good old days, there was no caller ID. Every time the phone rang it created suspense. Who could it be? What was the call about? And so many people were excited to answer.

Calling a wrong number in the south of Guam (and maybe even in the northern Marianas) meant you had a good chance of not only dialing the wrong house but finding out news about the house you were trying to call. Such was island life back when everyone knew everything going on in our small, tight-knit communities.

Here's an example :

~ Alo? Marikita?
~ Åhe', ti si Marikita este.
~ Oh pues hu espipia si Marikita.
~ Håye na Marikita?
~ Si Marikita'n Santiago.
~ Åhe' adei. I numeron-ñiha 2147 ya hame 2174.
~ Ai sa' hu na' lachi.
~ Lao mungnga ma ågang siha på'go. Manaigue gi gima'.
~ Oh?
~ Må'pos i dos para i mediko.
~ Ada malångo si Marikita?
~ Åhe'. Depotsi para ma reseta gue' åmot hai blåt.
~ Oh. Po'lo sa' tiene ke bai li'e' gue' gi otro Såbalo para i fiestan-miyo.
~ Esta. A las singko i Misa.
~ Ok. Si Yu'us ma'se'. Adios.

----

~ Hello? Marikita?
~ No, this isn't Marikita.
~ Well I'm looking for Marikita.
~ Marikita who?
~ Marikita'n Santiago.
~ Oh no. Their number is 2147 and ours is 2174.
~ Oh I made a mistake.
~ But don't call them now. They're gone.
~ Oh?
~ The two went to the doctor's.
~ Is Marikita sick?
~ No. She was to get a prescription for high blood.
~ Oh. Never mind because I'll see her next Saturday at your fiesta.
~ Ok. Mass is at 5 o'clock.
~ Ok. Thanks. Bye.