Post Office Excursion

So I got a package. YAY! THANKS MOM! Except not. Haha

Back story: a few weeks ago I asked my mom if she would be so kind as to send me a few things that I forgot. Such as more underwear, a bathing suit that wasn’t a one piece (I need a tan people!), some starbucks coffee (guilty pleasure), protein bars, etc. Not a lot of things but they would definitely be awesome to receive. She sent it and I got a notification that it had arrived around two weeks after she had sent it (which is actually really good time apparently). The representatives at the CIEE office told me to go to the post office at the circle near Accra. Yes, I had to go off campus to receive my package.

So, blissfully hopeful, I left on a Thursday morning at 10:45 knowing I had a skype date with my mom around 1, and I was super excited to see her face! I gave myself a solid two hours. I thought that would be enough. I luckily caught a tro-tro right away to Circle and the ride began. I was charged about 60 pesawa to get there. The tro-tro stopped and the mate told me to get off because this was where the post office was. I looked around and saw nothing I recognized and asked him, “Where do I go from here?” He said, “I don’t know.” He proceeded to leave me on the side of the street. I have to be more assertive, first off. Luckily, a man at the stop could see I was lost and offered to help me. He told me to get back on the tro-tro and ask to get dropped off at the Ghana Telecom building. Luckily, one soon came by, and again I was on my way. I waved to the man and he smiled back. I took a deep breath and sat back. I was charged another 50 pesawa on this tro-tro. Meanwhile, about an hour into transit at this point, I finally reach the building. However, I have to walk a ways to get there through traffic. Another man led me to the building and showed me the entrance to get there. At this time it was almost noon. I walked in and immediately put a smile on my face because I was told that the people in the post office are not usually kind to Americans since Americans are not patient and hate waiting for things (so true).

The first woman was very nice and told me to go to the parcel department so I walked over and they looked at my slip. “You need to go to Accra General post office.” Long story short, after all this time, I had gone to the wrong post office. It was the right one, but apparently I was told to go to the wrong one. I asked how to get there and he said to take a tro-tro. I go out and realize I will never find one is this mess of traffic. I asked a few mates, but they all were not going that direction, or had no idea what I was talking about (typical). I proceeded to flag down a taxi and enquire about his price. I got him down to four cedi for the ride. I was told it would take ten minutes. Forty five minutes later, I am not even at the post office but still in traffic. I call my mom and tell her I am going to miss the skype date and I start crying (pathetic, I know) but I hadn’t eaten and back story once again, I had gotten sick last night so I wasn’t feeling good. Of course, this caused a ton of attention from the vendors outside and my driver. He asked why I was crying. And then the vendors would come up to my window, grab my arm, and try to sell me more things. Some asked why I was crying. Others just stared at me as if they could pierce me. Scary gaze. Haha.

So I finally get dropped off near the post office. I have to walk again to get there so he gave me some directions. It is now around one. I get to the post office and I am on the wrong side. Of course. Luckily, here is where my hero steps in. A man named Samson (I am sure he was actually sent by God) said, “I am coming, I am coming!” and hurried to my side to walk me over to the other side of the post office. I finally get there and they tell me I need a photocopy of my id. Awesome. Thankfully, my short savior showed me the way to a place a few blocks over where I got a photocopy for some pesawa and then we hurried back. After signing some papers and writing a few addresses down, my package was finally put on the table. I was told to open it, and empty its contents on to the table. The man documented everything that was on the table and started calculating the charge up. Yes, you need to pay to receive a package in Ghana. It is not enough for my parents to pay to send one!!!! GAHHHH.

He looked at me and said, “64 cedi.” And here came the flowing of more tears. “What?” He then told me how he calculated it and I continued to cry. I was so embarrassed. But I only had 16 on me after all of the transportation costs and such. I thought it would be 10 cedi at the most. Samson looked at me and said, “don’t cry.” He bargained with the man and got him to let me have it for fourteen cedi. I wanted to hug him. Mind you, this is after the man said that I could come back for it. I wanted to punch him in the face. Do you know how long it took me to get here?! I paid the man, said thank you many many times, and walked out with Samson. My guardian angel had decided he was going to walk me to the station (about twenty minutes away) and give me money for transportation. This was going to make him late for work, but he insisted. He began talking about how he wanted to help me out so that if I ever found some of his Ghanaian friends in the US, I could return the favor and help them out. I was astounded by my good luck and fortune by finding him. I learned he was thirty, single, and was subtly hitting on me. Haha. But what else is new? Here in Ghana, I am just beginning to realize how every man stares at Americans. It can be slightly terrifying. But he was very sweet and kind, and talked fervently to the mate of the tro-tro I got on to make sure he took me to the right stop. He promised to call me to make sure I got back okay. I ended up missing my voice lesson as well. It was scheduled for 2:00. I finally got back on campus around 2:30 ish. Crazy, right? It was quite the day.