Post Office Treasure Hunt

(written on Monday evening)

Today, I ran an obstacle course – well, not literally, but I was trying to pick up a parcel at the post office downtown.

Step 1 – I arrive at the GPO (General Post Office) downtown. I find the entrance and go straight to the customer care desk. The lady, upon seeing my pink slip, tells me that I am at the wrong post office (strange, I seem to remember someone at the office confirming that I was to go to GPO). She tells me to go to the Post Office at Times Tower and vaguely describes how to find it.

Step 2 – I leave the post office and walk towards what I think is Times Tower – a tower with a clock on it. It turns out to be City Hall. I ask one of the guards for directions. He first tries sending me back to GPO, but then explains that I should go towards KICC (Kenyatta International Conference Centre) and that the post office is behind there.

Step 3 – I set out towards KICC and cross City Square in front of it. In an effort to go around KICC, I end up much further to the right than I intended. This means that I get to do some Kenya government sight-seeing as I turn back left to get behind KICC: Along Harambee Avenue are all the important offices and ministries: Harambee House, where the president receives guests, the Office of The President, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of This and the Ministry of That. At some point I start wondering about the post office. I ask another guard – I guess I had asked at the right point: He was able to point out the post office to me which was visible down the street on the next Avenue over.

Step 4 – As I walk towards the post office, I am glad to see the sign: City Square Post Office – 00200. Until then I had been wondering whether the people there would just send me straight back to GPO, but I recognize the numbers from my address (most people here just have a post box, so it is important to know what post office the box is at).

Step 5 – I enter the post office on the ground floor, wondering how I will find the right counter to pick up the parcel. I find one that says something about “box” and which has no queue (Schlange), so I ask the lady there for help. She points me to the far end of the big hall. Sure enough: there is a counter “PARCEL DELIVERY.” There is no one at the counter. Do I wait – will someone turn up? Or do I trust the sign saying “Parcel deliveries on 2nd and 3rd floor?”

Step 6 – I decide to go take a look on 2nd or 3rd floor. (Surely waiting will take me nowhere.) I find an elevator at the end of the building. As I approach, a man speaks to me, “Excuse me, Madame?” – “Yes?” (I am suspicious, is this an official guy or just someone random looking for an excuse to talk to a mzungu lady?) – “Where do you need to go?” (He is acting official…) – “Parcel delivery.” – “They are on lunch break.” (Surprise, surprise!) – “What time will they get back?” – “At two.” I am lucky, it is ten to two. The man (receptionist?) asks me to have a seat and shows me a sofa made for three people. There are already three people sitting there. They squeeze together to make room for me.
It is nice to sit down. It is an unusually hot day for this time of year, and I am tired from the sun and the long walk. After about five minutes, the gentleman calls us to go up to parcel delivery.

Step 7 – On the second floor, I enter a big hall with a long counter. Once again, there are different signs. None of them seem to apply to me, but I decide to go to airmail parcels. I notice that the other people have yellow slips while mine is pink. I hand the slip to the man behind the counter, knowing that he will tell me to go somewhere else… I am right. He tells me to go downstairs, leave the building, turn left – I am obviously confused. “But downstairs they told me to come up here!” – “Who told you?” – “A lady at a counter downstairs.” (Not quite true, but she was the last person who had given me directions, and from there I just followed the signs.) He shakes his head. “Ah, that one knows nothing.”
This is starting to feel like a treasure hunt (Schatzsuche/Schnitzeljagd). Fortunately, the parcel guy offers to take me downstairs to show me where I need to go.

Step 8 – I realise that I was indeed totally wrong. Since the parcel was delivered to a P.O. box, I should have gone to where the boxes are (you enter on second floor from the outside of the building – how confusing!). At the end of the hallway I find a counter and know: this is it!
I hand over my pink slip. This time I am not sent away. Instead, the lady asks for identification. Fortunately, I have my Swiss ID on me. “This is not an REN ID!” I stare at her. Did she say REN? Or Arian? Or – I just thought of this possibility now – is she Kikuyu and is trying to say Alien? (Kikuyus are like Japanese, they mix up their Rs and Ls.) “You don’t have an REN ID?” – “That is my ID,” I insist. “They didn’t give you an REN ID?” – “No.” Whatever it is that she is talking about, I am quite sure that I do not have it. She seems to give in and goes to get the package. “How long have you been in Kenya?” is her next question. I seem to have gotten the lady who is a secret agent working for immigration, checking for illegal immigrants. She is satisfied to know that I am just visiting for six months. I sign the book – don’t forget the date – and she finally hands over the package. Mission accomplished – obstacle course completed! It was fun and gave me another cultural experience, but I think next time I will accept the offer to let the office errand boy pick up the parcel for me!