I've Become Unseen
February 22, 2006
I am an invisible man. Not to everyone of course although Carrie can always see right through me, but then again she’s invisible too. To the folks at the main campus, we are invisible.
Sometimes they hold our mail for a few weeks. It’s never on purpose you know, they just never can remember to get it to the airplane. Or maybe they’re just waiting for the pile to get bigger. I know that when we arrive in Bamako on our way outta here, we’ll find a stack of things we’ve been waiting for.
I sent some mail to them to be sent out. One of the pieces was my French midterm exam. I had to send it Federal Express to ensure a timely shipment. The other was a business sized envelope to the bank. They called me in the middle of the school day to determine who was going to pay for these things. They were also rather upset that I had not affixed a stamp on the business letter. I politely inquired as to where exactly I was supposed to come up with an American stamp on a South African mine in the middle of Mali. They are the ones with connections to the embassy. They are also the ones who send me a paycheck. If there are costs incurred they can take the funds from there.
When I had the exam sent it took five days from Seattle to here. It was sent FedEx to a private address in Bamako and forwarded from there to the mine. Our mail gets sent through the embassy, then the school, and usually arrives here when we go down and pick it up.
It gets a little old. Once we leave their sight they tend to forget that we exist. We have to rely on them for so much.
MJR
I am an invisible man. Not to everyone of course although Carrie can always see right through me, but then again she’s invisible too. To the folks at the main campus, we are invisible.
Sometimes they hold our mail for a few weeks. It’s never on purpose you know, they just never can remember to get it to the airplane. Or maybe they’re just waiting for the pile to get bigger. I know that when we arrive in Bamako on our way outta here, we’ll find a stack of things we’ve been waiting for.
I sent some mail to them to be sent out. One of the pieces was my French midterm exam. I had to send it Federal Express to ensure a timely shipment. The other was a business sized envelope to the bank. They called me in the middle of the school day to determine who was going to pay for these things. They were also rather upset that I had not affixed a stamp on the business letter. I politely inquired as to where exactly I was supposed to come up with an American stamp on a South African mine in the middle of Mali. They are the ones with connections to the embassy. They are also the ones who send me a paycheck. If there are costs incurred they can take the funds from there.
When I had the exam sent it took five days from Seattle to here. It was sent FedEx to a private address in Bamako and forwarded from there to the mine. Our mail gets sent through the embassy, then the school, and usually arrives here when we go down and pick it up.
It gets a little old. Once we leave their sight they tend to forget that we exist. We have to rely on them for so much.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 8:13 PM
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