Allow me to tell you a story. It goes a little something
like this…
Once upon a time
there was an Orange Canadian who lived in the far distant land of Africa, in
the township of Uganda, which is found on the eastern part of the country (it’s
a BIG country!). It was nearing that festive time of Christmas* and her family
wanted to send her a few things that would make her feel not so far away.
So, after
compiling a list, the family gathered together, placed the items in a box, and
shipped it off in hopes that it would arrive in time for Christmas. In fact –
it was sent with the ‘Purolator promise’ that it would arrive a week before the
big day, meaning a 3-day delivery turn around.
She, along with
her brother, eagerly followed the package’s journey each day with endless
anticipation. From Canada, throughout the US, to Germany onto Dubai. And then –
poof – it disappeared.
A few days later
(meaning the week after the package’s departure from Canada), she received a
phone call out of the blue from a courier company representing the Canadian
service provider (*cough* Purolator/UPS *cough*). They informed her that her
package had arrived, and would be available for delivery pending the standard
payment of a customs tax, but also a not-so-standard delivery fee (that was to
be paid whether it was delivered or she made the journey into Kampala to pick
it up herself!).
In the final days
leading up to Christmas, she spent a number of hours on the phone. Her brother also
spent some time on the phone. And yet, the only thing that seemed to change was
the ransom rate designated by the local courier service, ranging from a package
processing fee, to a delivery fee, to an incorrectly entered package contents
claim.
With no Christmas
tree in sight, she fashioned herself a make shift tree out of the excessive
amounts of toilet paper that seemed to be at her disposal, in hopes of a
Christmas miracle. But it did not happen. She awoke Christmas morning to find no
more than a toilet paper tree with nothing under its flimsy and lifeless
“branches.” And the little Orange Canadian was left feeling sad and devoid of
any Christmas spirit.
The end.
This isn’t the part of the infomercial when the calm
lady’s voice chimes in to say that it looked “really real, didn’t it?” No
folks, this is a real-life happenstance.
Yesterday (midway through week 3, post-arrival), I made
my way into Kampala in order to retrieve the package in question myself. This,
after numerous phone calls (a number of which went unanswered or were just never
returned), and several failed delivery attempts. And, by “failed delivery
attempts” I mean, I was told my package would be out for delivery on a specific
day, and then that day came and went and no delivery took place**. To say this
was an incredibly frustrating and far more complicated process than it should
have been would be an understatement. But it didn’t end there…
One would think going to the office to pick up a
package that the delivery company indicated they were in possession of would be a
relatively simple task. But, it was in this instance that I fully understood
why there was so much miscommunication and disorganization.
When I arrived at the courier’s office (approximately
20-30 minutes after I had spoken with
a staff member who was following up, and to whom I informed I’d be arriving to
the office shortly), I was told I would have to either come back another day,
or wait an hour or so, because the entire
staff had just gone to lunch. No one seemed bothered by the fact that I had
just travelled over two hours to come get the package, and that I had a further
two plus hours ahead of me to get back home, or that I’d been given the OK to come in at that time by one of their staff members not
long before I had arrived. The only thing that made me feel good at this point,
was knowing the other people waiting were also in a similar boat…
Finally, I met one of the staff I had been dealing
with over the past few weeks. And, with the help of my “girlish charms” and “highly
persuasive skills,” (i.e. I Mom-yelled at them and told them to get it together!)
I was eventually led to a completely different part of the building in which their
office was located, where I waited once again, while they scrambled to find the
package. In the end, I had the parcel in my hands after close to 45 minutes had
passed.
 |
| Check out the beautiful wrapping job! |
And so, a week and three days after Christmas, Santa finally arrived in Jinja, leading to the
completion of this visual evidence of how it all went down – a mockumentary, if
you will.
The good news is, this company only deals with Purolator/UPS, so if any of you lovely folks ever
feel like sending something to Uganda, use FedEx or DHL, because I’ve been told
when they say door-to-door service (i.e. from Wolfville to Jinja), it actually
goes from Point A to Point B as indicated on the weigh-bill, and not just as
far as the capitol city and then held at ransom for several weeks until you
eventually go pick it up yourself***!
The other good news is, I received four things of
dental floss within the contents of this package, which brought about so much excitement
it could only mean one thing: I’m definitely an adult now!
But in all seriousness, I returned home (sporting my
first sunburn of the year, and actually the first since returning back to
Uganda in September!), threw on Coldplay’s Christmas Lights (because it’s the only Christmas song I have on my laptop, and quite frankly the only one I actually like!), and quietly
opened each item.
My toilet paper Christmas Tree; The care package stash, in which all four packs of dental floss in plain view!
Two of the wrapped gifts were a colouring book and coloured pencils. The colouring book
is based off of the book I received last year for Christmas. And of course, it was immediately
put to good use, being as my favourite spot in Halifax was included - Lawrencetown Beach!
Yes, this was frustrating. And yes, in the grand
scheme of things this is small potatoes in comparison to some of the challenges
facing the world today. But, I don’t like being taken advantage of or having
my time wasted****.
However, with all that being said, I am so lucky to have a family back home who
put enough thought and effort into sending me some of my favourite things to
make that gap between here and there much smaller*****. I'm also thankful my brother shares my sense of humour, because we both enjoyed a few laughs during the course of this ordeal! But, next year – I’m
paying a personal visit to a one Mr. San-T Clause at his all-inclusive North
Pole resort. After all, it'll probably be cheaper!
-the Orange Canadian
*Hey… Why aren’t other holidays referred to as
festive?!
**I lost two full days of work and a smattering of
time here and there every other day in the weeks it took to receive my stuffs,
which almost resulted in missing a crucial deadline, just to set those
deliveries up. PLUS, another full day just to go pick it up!
***I also didn’t have to pay that excessive “delivery
fee” that I had been told I would need to pay even if I came to get it myself!
And what was this excessive rate, you ask? 95000 Ugandan Shillings
(approximately $35 Canadian dollars). And how much did it cost me for a round
trip journey to Kampala and back, plus local transportation? 25000 Ugandan
Shillings (approximately $9 Canadian buck-a-roos). Don’t mess with the Orange
Canadian - especially when there's Twizzlers, maple syrup and dental floss at stake!!
****And, yeah, I know, the real basis of my
frustrations were founded on the massive privilege I have. Despite the
disorganization of the office, I hardly think this process would have been so
challenging if I weren’t a mzungu. And to be fair, this is really the only time I've been placed in this situation in all the time I've spent outside of Canada, so, I'm pretty lucky, I suppose.
*****Also, I am now in possession of all the maple
syrup products from my favourite maple syrup producer, Acadian Maple. So, don’t
bother trying to look for any of their things back home!
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