Where's Archie? The curious case of Bogotá's Cuban cardiologist and the phantom smartphones

 @wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

After more than nine years based in Colombia, I've learnt, slowly albeit, not to be so trustworthy of anybody, at any time, in any situation. The default mode is to think somebody's trying to swindle you until you have concrete proof he/she is not. Guilty until proven innocent, basically.

O Archie, Archie! Wherefore art thou Archie?

Every now and again, however, one drops the guard. Or better said, somebody comes along who sounds so believable, comes across as so genuine, that you effectively buy his/her horse manure.

Now, I must say that in this particular fraud it wasn't that my friends and I were completely naïve. We didn't just dive in head first without initially testing the murky waters.

A rat in a cardiologist's clothing

We did weigh up the pros and cons of what was on offer. Suffice to say my partners, nay main players, in the deal were Colombians — they can generally smell a rat before it's even born.

It just didn't make sense to us that a seemingly respected Cuban cardiologist working at Bogotá's Cardio Infantil — he, Archie Silva, has a LinkedIn profile "confirming" this (see photo above) — would feel the need to rob a few pobrecitos (poor folk, that is) of what is, in the great scheme of things, an insignificant sum of money. (350,000 pesos in case you're wondering, about 84 euros.)

What's more, when I first met Archie in late November 2020 through a mutual contact, he wined me — well, Poker-beered me to be precise — all day while he, stereotypically enough, downed rum and another substance which shall remain unnamed. 

He even put credit in my phone as I had none and I needed to send a few emails explaining away this impromptu session.

So I had few reasons to doubt him when he told me he could source factory-price smartphones in Germany, a country in which he studied, through a friend there. 

Whatever the case, it didn't pique my interest at the time as I was, and remain, happy with the phone I have.

"He told me he couldn't ask for new phones regularly as 'it would be a breach of trust' with this German friend. That made sense to me."

About a month later, however, a couple of good friends in "my" Barrio Santandercito were in the market for new phones. The Cuban entered my head.

We sent him a WhatsApp message. He could get us ridiculously cheap Samsung S20 Plus models. After much toing and froing of messages, getting clarification on everything, my friends were confident enough to go ahead with the deal. I figured if these working-class, streetwise Colombians were willing, then fair enough.

As the middleman and without work to go to on the following Monday, 28 December, it was up to me to meet Archie to give him the first payment to put in motion the purchase. It was half the overall price, the aforementioned 350,000 pesos, 200,000 of which was my own money.

I met him at the entrance of Barrio Santandercito on Calle 183 with Carrera 15. We grabbed a coffee in a nearby panadería, for which he paid.

Too good to be true

Before I handed over the money, I did ask him if he'd heard of the old expression, 'If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.' He assured me that this was legitimate, that it was a favour from his friend in Germany who worked for Samsung. Archie had apparently carried out life-saving surgery on this man's mother years ago.

As for the remarkably quick delivery time which I doubted could be realised — they were due on the Wednesday, just 48 hours later — he said they'd be sent by DHL that very Monday.

What's more, he told me he couldn't ask for new phones regularly as 'it would be a breach of trust' with this German friend. That made sense to me.  

So I handed over the money. A final step was for me to send Archie my friend's personal details 'for the guarantee', which I did later that day.

'See you Wednesday. It's also my day off, so we can have a few drinks', he suggested as we parted ways. I wasn't too enthusiastic for a mid-week session, I just wanted the phones.

I left it until the afternoon on Wednesday to reach out to Archie. 'They haven't arrived yet, hermano, but don't worry, they're on their way. I'll let you know.'

I had thought that it would be remarkable if they arrived in such a short period of time, especially over the Christmas period. My friends waiting for the phones weren't in a major panic either. We could wait.

The last messages I exchanged with Archie were on Saturday, 2 January. That day he told me the phones were already in Colombia, at DHL's office by the airport. He told me to contact him the following Monday and we'd take it from there.

Since then, nothing. WhatsApp messages remain unseen, phone calls go straight to voicemail.

Maybe, just maybe, something untoward has happened to him. Perhaps I'm wrong to think that we've been had.

After all, if you can't trust a Cuban cardiologist, who can you trust?
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