A Whisper... for the Postal Directorate

"Until yesterday, I believed that the one office we poor citizens could trust was the post office... but yesterday something happened that shook my faith and changed my mind."

I had nearly stopped listening to my friend, believing that complaint has become second nature with us, and that the ears of the responsible officials are stopped up from all the grumbling and negative criticism they hear; but my friend backed her words with a true story, and one has no escape from facing reality. Jinan said:

"The news of my marriage is not new to you, and you know that it took place without fanfare; but we could not flee the traditions to the very end, so we set two days last month for receiving the family and friends who would come to congratulate us... It was natural that we should send invitation cards to each of them; but fate — pardon me, the postal administration — stepped into the story and made of it a certain farce. I waited to see friends and relatives on those two days, but not one of them appeared. I got in touch to find out the reasons, and it turned out that the cards had not arrived — this, twenty days after they had been sent from the capital to a village within the Lebanese borders...

I went in person to the post office to ask to see the responsible director, and an usher met me saying: Mr. 'Tayyara' is away... I asked for the inspector, and was told he had not yet honored us with his presence — this though the hour was already past eleven... A clerk directed me to Mr. 'Shakhtoura,' and I was told that this man would solve the problem; it turned out the good gentleman was not responsible for letters outside the town... After this I had no choice but to storm the room where the letters are bundled, and there they reassured me that the cards had been sent the very same day... and then there was nothing more to be said...

And I went back dragging my despair and my disappointment..."

My friend continued:

"I have not told you that the letters did arrive — but a month later; perhaps they were in the 'depot,' and my visit woke them from their deep slumber..." Then she added:

"The names that appear in this story are real."

One hope remains to us: to call the 'Airplane' and the 'Boat' to the rescue, to put down this chaos — so that the citizen no longer puts his hand on his heart as he drops his letter into the postbox... or appeals to the angels, muttering incantations...