Packages!

A story from my saturday morning adventures...

this week has been the week of packages! Christmas has come a bit late to my small life in Kampala, but it has surely arrived. I have received no less than five packages in one week! (granted, one of them is the box of books that I mailed to myself back in july when I was paranoid that there would be no reading material available to me in the 'outback' of metropolitan kampala. haha.) anyway, it was nice to get the books, although a little surreal to see the same 'm-bag' (large plastic sack) come through the door at the post office here in Uganda that I, six months ago, saw go through the door of the P.O> in Vermont with the promise from the friendly counter-assistant that it would arrive in Uganda in six weeks. ha!

so now I am rich with all sorts of good things, cheese (which, surprisingly enough, arrived seemingly in good shape), cookies (three kinds, home-made, and only a little stale!) etc etc. two different groups of friends sent fall leaves (which amused and confused my host family), and I received pictures from the two weddings I had to miss last fall (emily's and amy's)... among many other wonders to numerous to mention in this small space.

this morning i had the happy job of picking up the latest, (from my family!) so i arrived at the P.O, package slip in hand, ready to claim my prize. I had no trouble with the first round of presenting my ID, signing my name in several places, and paying, but there was a hold-up at the second of three present ID/sign/stamp stations. the man in charge of that particular stamp, it seemed, had decided not to come to work yet. so i waited at the counter with a line of people growing behind me, impatient because i was going to meet Jennifer at the market at 10:00. !! As my impatience grew I started to pick at the tape on the package. I finally threw out all inhibition and started tearing at the box. I finally got a flap opened, and peeked inside. glory, halleluja! reading material! my dad had sent a back issue of 'First things'. i was content for about five minutes before I started peeking again. granola bars!i immediately ate one. then i saw chocolate! i wondered, if i ate the whole contents of the box, would i have to continue waiting?

i asked the guard several times if the man with the stamp intended to come. he assured me that yes, he was coming. one woman asked, has he ever failed to come to work? ever? the guard assured her, no, the man has never failed to come on a saturday. jennifer called at 10:00. where was I?i apologized and said i had no idea when i would meet her, she should probably carry on with her day.

it occured to me then that i had a plastic bag in my purse. what if i took the contents of the box, put it in the bag, and then walked out the door?this man with the stamp would have the box, which he could stamp to his hearts' delight, and then do with it what he wanted! brilliant! i realized (and realize that those family members of mine who have lived or are living in rather ridgid police states are right now shuddering at my audacity) that i could get in trouble, but my stubborn, independent, custumer-oriented world-view took over. i began slyly emptying the box, pretending that non of the other thirty people in the room realize what i was doing.

i retaped the box and, somewhat more heavily-ladened, casually walked out the door farthest from the guard. i managed to get about 15 paces down the sidewalk (freedom was almost mine!) when i heard someone calling 'madam! madame!' i turned to find the guard, running in my direction.

'this is not a good thing you are doing!' he sputtered at me. as he was my height, about my age, and carried no weapon, i was not so afraid (yet). he repeated again 'this is not a good thing!' 'you have taken the things from the box and left it empty!'

i began arguing with him (yes, very smart, i know). i told him the truth, that the things were mine, that i had already paid, that i had signed my name, and that i wanted to leave. he told me again that it still wasn't right. he then said 'what will they say to me when they find the empty box?' i agreed with him on this point, i had no desire to cause this man trouble. it appeared though, that he would be in trouble. he then said 'if i was a bad person i would have you arrested!'

although my blood ran cold at this point, i continued arguing (why? why?!!!) i repeated, the things were mine, i had paid, i didn't want to wait, etc etc...

but... i followed him into the post office and shame-faced, took my place back by my (now empty) box. he related the events to two ugandan women sitting near his desk. they said, 'why don't you throw the box away?' i wanted to cheer! yes! yes! logic was finally on my side. but i had been chastised, and i really had no desire to cause problems for this vigilant guard.

as i stood there, i realized that, should the man with the stamp arrive, he would probably question an empty box. so i put a few items back in. then i put a few more back in. soon, i was whole-sale stuffing that box full and trying to retape it to its original condition. the guard came over and whispered in my ear 'why don't you repack the box, and then put it in the bag, and then leave?'

now, this was thinking. i appreciated his idea, but i also realized (as i now was worried for his sake) that the other disgrunteled expats (it occurs to me that maybe we expats were the only ones silly enough to expect service at the time the post office was slated to open?) in the waiting area would probably want to do the same, and this would cause no end of trouble for my new friend, the guard.

happily, ten minutes later a stir ran through the assembled crowd. the man was here! the man was coming! well, it turned out to be a woman, and yes she arrived, all smiles, stamp in hand, and freed me from my bondage. as i finished the final station with the guard, signed my name, and collected my ID and receipts, I apologized for causing trouble. I wished him a good day, and walked out.