When we finally managed to get a telephone installed (with a little palm greasing), it seemed that this was a real status symbol, so the black telephone line was brought into the house through the middle of a wall and anchored to the middle of the wall, along the wall, up the side of the door, across the top, half way down the door frame and then across the middle of the next wall -- and then the telephone was attached !
I had left the house, because it wasn't correct for me, a female with uncovered face to be there, leaving the houseboy in charge. But he didn't appreciate that I wasn't happy (silently having a hissy fit!), because he didn't want to tell them. My husband was at his office. So, I ran to an expat neighbor's house, who had a phone and called him to come home and deal with them.
Oh, yes; meanwhile they had a little charcoal brazier going in the middle of the marble floor of the very large entry room (we were renting by the way -- weren't allowed to own property there), and they were making tea! Houseboy apparently wouldn't allow the kitchen to be used. Geesh, what memories.
I didn't mean to "take over" your thread. I'll shut up now.