I am postman

Being abroad in the 21^st century is far, far simpler than it was in, say, the 1800s. Particularly in terms of the ease of maintaining communication with those loved ones left behind and/or, as is so often the case now, also off in foreign countries. The internet and cellphones have made communication quick, easy and convenient. The only thing we’re missing is the tangible connection of packages sent across the seas. So when a parcel does arrive, it’s a really big deal.

This week, the postman came to my door, with parcel in hand, not once, but twice. The first time – Monday morning – with a parcel sent by my amazing family back home. I knew they had sent the parcel, but didn’t really think it would arrive before Christmas. It had only been sent 10 days earlier and I’d heard that parcels take 6 weeks to arrive even from rich, developed nations, let alone South Africa. (For the record, Postnet rocks! Especially Postnet Beacon Bay.) So, I was thrilled when I got a call on my cell from someone who couldn’t speak much English but managed enough to say ‘I am Postman’. I rushed outside to collect and sign for the package. I was thrilled. I made my day. My family had sent a whole bunch of Christmas presents, which are now piled up on my kitchen table waiting for me to open them on Christmas Eve. They also sent Prestik which makes me deliriously happy . I still don’t understand how a country as ‘technologically advanced’ as Korea doesn’t have prestik.

The second parcel wasn’t from overseas but it was still pretty awesome. After the success of the delivery from home – and in a rush of patriotic feeling – I ordered some biltong from a group that makes and delivers it here in South Korea. For those who come from countries where patriotism involves flags, anthems and limiting civil liberties, yes, eating uncooked, cured meat does count as patriotism. In fact, add a rugby or soccer (football) jersey and some SAB beer and you have most of the elements of South African patriotism (with the possible addition of a vuvuzela and maybe some pap). In recent years, scattered South Africans have dealt with their homesickness by making their own biltong in their new/temporary countries. And in some cases passing it on to other homesick South Africans (who very willingly cover the cost).

The delivery of this second package was a little more complicated. I was out when the postman tried to deliver. The system here differs a little to the one at home. In SA, when you have a parcel, the post office will deliver a slip saying you need to pick it up from your local post-office branch. Here they bring it to your door – thankfully, as I have no idea where the local branch is. But when you’re not there, this can cause problems. Or not. On Friday evening, I received a call from a nice man who told me (in English) that he was a representative from the Daegu post office and that they had a package they needed to deliver to me. He then asked for an exact time on Saturday when I would be home so that the postman could bring round the package. All very efficient. So, the package was delivered on Saturday morning, on time and in perfect condition.

The post office workers must find it frustratingly complicated to deliver to all these strange foreigners but I’m very grateful for their efficiency and determination. I can see how the Postman could become a favourite person in the new country and totally think they should follow the Joburg garbage collectors’ example and start asking for Christmas boxes – they could make a fortune.

They certainly made my week. As precious as regular electronic communication is, there is nothing quite like a box of joy and love sent from far away to make the day, and in this case Christmas, and to help you feel connected to home, no matter how far away you are.