Post Office Again

So I mailed a package home today.  Man it was insane…how many times did I want to burst out laughing and say to the two guys running the post office, “Seriously, what are you doing?  And what do you guys do back there all day?”  It was so ridiculously disordered and it seemed that the guys had no system whatsoever.  Unfortunately, the box Mom sent me 2 weeks ago has not arrived.  There was, however, a box from Michel, a previous Canadian volunteer, which he had mailed on 11/30/2009.  So it very well may take 2 months to arrive.  Bummer.

The one I sent home looks like a  Christmas package because I had to put about 30 stamps on it.  First they weighed it, and told me it would cost 1700 frw.  Not bad, I thought, that’s like $3.  So then he gives me a strip of about a dozen stamps, and I ask him if I need to put them somewhere specific.  He says anywhere is fine.  Another guy comes from the back with a mug whose handle was broken off, filled with water.  Ah ha, I see.  I must put the stamps on myself…of course you don’t have a postage label maker or anything like that.  So I just use my fingers to wet the stamps and slap them on nicely.  Well, the two guys shuffle through some papers and look in some binders for about 5 minutes, disputing about something in Kinyarwanda.  Thankfully there was another patron at the window who was very kind and would repeat everything to me that the guy said, because he talked so so so quietly!  So this other man informed me that they accidentally told me the fee for sending a package to Europe.  It costs more to send one to the U.S.  So I actually ended up paying about $9.  Still not bad.  But as a result, I had to double the amount of stamps slapped on that puppy.  I was almost running out of room!  So it looks real nice :)

            I had to go around the back to claim our package from Michel.  So I go in to sit at the desk, and there are somewhat-separated piles of boxes all over the floor around me.  I can see a pile of U.S.P.S. boxes, and I was peering over to see if any of them were from you, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a Krupsky address.  Seriously, I wish you could have seen the inside of this post office.  It’s just a warehouse with boxes in the corner.  And there’s the “desk,” and then there’s the desk at the window where the one guy sits and serves the customers.  This desk is strewn with papers of who knows what, along with a single scale for weighing packages, and 2 metal boxes where they keep the money.  And there are binders and random papers with tax information and registers of received packages just laying around.  And they leave the binders open with all this exposed information…I read through with my own eyes the list of packages received on 2/3/10, and scanned for the Krupsky name.  But alas, it was not there.  And even when I picked up the package that Michel sent, I signed my own name, even though the package was for Sr. Candide.  They didn’t look or check.  To tell you the truth, I’m really not worried about anyone eating my candy.  At least not those two guys.  It’ll take months for them to even realize there’s candy inside!!!!

            On my way home I was proud to be firm and assertive in my insisting on a moto ride home of only 300 frw.  The first one I hailed tried to charge me maganatanu (500 frw), and I said to him “oya, maganatatu (300 frw).”  This is the usual rate for Muhato to town and vice versa; this is what I paid to get to the post office.  But he wasn’t budging, kept saying “C’est trop loin.  (It’s too far.)”.  So after arguing a bit in French, I told him I’d search for another.  The second guy tried charging me 400, but by this time it had begun to drizzle.  So I reluctantly agreed.  But, on the way I saw Eleanora, an Italian Caritas volunteer who I met a few months ago, and he stopped so I could talk to her for a good 2 minutes!  

So I think that deserves an extra 100 frw.