At the Post Office 4

The long wait is over. . . .

After about 18 weeks. . . . The parcel which brought about my first visit to the post office, finally arrived.

It’s been a long ride. A long wait. Haven’t waited this long for a while now.

The parcel which I went for at the post office, as narrated in the first part of this series, was for a book club, Book-Troverts. This community is a non-profit which provides its members access to books, as are available. Members are required to make a request on the WhatsApp group (the first most coordinated and regulated WhatsApp group I know). The administrators of the book club are responsible for granting a member’s request. Members are also allowed to meet the need, in rare cases. The primary aim of Book-Troverts is to provide books to readers, as that is a veritable reason for why some people don’t read. Some people who do not read simply because they do not have access to materials they want to read. Book-Troverts is meeting that need and, even of those who read but cannot access certain books they want. We are talking about over 200 registered members. I am one out of the hundreds.

We learnt about Darien Book Aid from the management of Jarding Reading Garden, a serene outdoor library in Jos Museum. We opted for a trial to apply for the services Darien Book Aid renders to different communities around the world. About the Darien Book Aid:

We are an ALL-VOLUNTEER group of caring individuals interested in improving the world through literacy and education.  We donate hand-selected books to communities in need around the world.  Every book we donate has the potential to teach critical literacy skills, improve reading fluency, build proficiency in the English language, increase knowledge and spark imaginations, curiosity and a love of learning.

I was assigned the responsibility of keeping track of our application. That was why I was at the post office in the first week of November, 2021. And that happened to be my first time at the post office, even though I have strong affinity for letter writing and have been inspired by my Dad’s old correspondences lying in the pages of the older books in the house.

Photo credit: Nile on Pixabay

Between my first visit in November, 2021 and Friday, 3rd March, 2022, the engagements I’ve had with the post office never leaves me the same. I had posted just two letters within that time span but the timeline and experiences seem as though I had sent at least two in every month, since the first visit. Of the two I had posted, only one reached its recipient. The other is still hanging; but as time passes, it continues to breed wonderful experiences.

On Wednesday, 23rd February, 2022, the recipient of the first letter called when I was lost in a task. The call was so unprecedented that if anyone else was present in the room, he’d wonder what caused the jitter on hearing the ring tone. We haven’t spoken for a while, and I least expected what we’d talk about.

‘What address did you use for the letter you addressed to me?’ 

I was taken aback. I almost screamed in excitement but somehow had control over my emotions. My assumptions may be wrong, I thought. ‘I used the one you sent to me’, I responded with emphasis on every word. ‘I used the complete details. Why are you asking?’

‘I am at the post office. I decided to check in, since we are on mid-term holiday at work. I included this in my bucket list for the holiday period’.

Now, how did you react to that? Your reaction may be nothing close to mine or way higher. For lack of description, I’d settle for this: my heart melted. How much more evidence do I need to understand that this fellow appreciates the effort and have not lost hope in the process, despite the odds?

A few minutes later, the recipient called again: ‘The letter is not available yet. The postman said it may have been returned back to Jos or have not left. I am not happy about the feedback but we keep hope alive. . . .’

The underlining theme of the entire narrative is underscored.

3rd March brought about an experience I described in the third part of this series:

‘The long period of wait for a letter to travel from one end to the other is an incredible experience: within this period emotions rise and fall, then settle for a while. It suddenly goes up again on receiving a phone call from the post office’.

I received a phone call. ‘Hello! I am calling you from the post office. Do you live at [so-and-so] address?’

Anxiety set in. ‘Y-e-e-e-s. . . .’

‘Come to the post office. There is a parcel for you’.

I raked my archives but could not recall anyone addressing a letter to me. Who could this be from, I wondered. I was cut in my cycle of amusement, wonder, and surprise by another phone call from the same unknown contact.

‘What is your name, please?’ the man asked. My name did not resemble what was on the parcel. ‘That is not the name on the parcel’.

Parcel. . . ? Parcel. . . ? Parcel. . . ? I whispered continuously, as I raked harder in my head. ‘Is it Book-Troverts that is written on the parcel? A parcel from Darien Book Aid?’

‘Yes’, the man responded with graceful cheer. I felt his excitement. ‘You can come for the parcel immediately’.

I was overwhelmed with gladness. I hopped around. Danced all I could. I just could not contain the feeling.

The parcel from Darien Book Aid. Photographed at the post office.

Waiting for 4 months 2 weeks, against my expectation of a month’s timeline, was no small drill. What matters now is that the wait is over. And it still did not leave me the same all along. The post office is, indeed, a reliable institution to learn patience from.

Wouldn’t you want to try the system? Write a loved one!

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At the Post Office 1: Read

At the Post Office 2: Read

At the Post Office 3: Read

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