Years ago, when e-mails and messaging apps were just starting to change the communication landscape, one of the regulars in the neighborhood was a postman. Actually, it was a postwoman in our case. Brenda was her name.
How do I know this? Well, it is customary for delivery persons to hand households a small envelope around Christmas time just in case we wanted to share small blessings with them. Of course, they would put their name on the envelope so we knew who it was for.
So, Brenda was a regular. When I was home I usually got the mail left stuck in the gate handle (we have an open grill gate) and since I was familiar when she came around, I would already be outside and would catch sight of her.
Sometimes, I'd see her walk past our house and she'd call out there was no mail for us.
During those times, aside from bills and mailed ads, we still got letters here and there, an occasional postcard, or invitations to birthdays or weddings as well as thank you cards.
When Brenda started her postal run in the subdivision, she was on foot. The post office, where our mail originated from, is about two rides away from our community. She'd have some road crossing to do before reaching the subdivision gate, then would make it out a second gate to head on to the other subdivisions and buildings along the way.
How long her route is, I didn't know, but sometimes I'd see her walking half-a-kilometer to the next destination.
Some years later, I saw her with a bike. Wow! That's progress. Although still quite a ways from the post office, I'm sure it reduced her transportation expenses by a lot. I am not entirely certain if postal personnel receive a transportation allowance for their delivery runs.
I am assuming they do not, otherwise, why would Brenda get herself a bicycle, or even be walking under the scorching heat of the sun or the driving rain instead of taking some form of public transportation?
When I greeted her new mode of transport, she laughed. Brenda is quite stocky and not very tall. But each time I saw that huge leather bag bearing all the mail she had to lug around, I cringe at the weight of it, especially at the beginning of their route when it was stuffed to the brim.
So, a bike where she jury-rigged some saddle to hold the bag, lifted a load off her shoulders literally. That way too, she can head back to the post office earlier once she's completed her daily run.
About three or four years later, Brenda was whizzing by on a motorcycle! Oh boy, so much the better for her. I never really got to chat with her during our brief encounters. She was always on the go. So, I never found out her backstory.
I'd like to believe she saved up as much as she can from her meager salary to be able to at least pay the downpayment for that motorbike. And for that, I am in awe of the woman.
I do not for a second believe postmen and women earn substantial salaries. Yet, the work they do is back-breaking, carrying such a heavy leather bag full of paper, walking far and wide to deliver the mail, with the sun sizzling hot, especially during summer, or rain pelting during the monsoon months. But as sure as the sun rises and sets, they are trudging towards homes to get the job done, Monday to Friday.
And then Brenda was gone. She must've been reassigned. A new postman took over her route. He looked older than Brenda, but then again the sun can be very harsh on the skin when you walk underneath it during the hottest hours. He wasn't much taller than her, and the postal bag looked like it would injure his shoulders.
He was quiet, this guy. Just goes about sorting mail, then stuffing these in gates or mailboxes, then on his way. He rarely breaks into a smile even if you acknowledge him. Like he thinks himself invisible.
When I meet him coming up and me going out, I'd ask if there was any mail for us. I love how he already knows when you give him the house number if there was anything to deliver or not. That's about the extent of our interaction.
Today, there is no postman coming to deliver mail in our neck of the woods. Not even occasionally. There are delivery guys, who are contracted to send out billing statements for utilities. But on the very rare day some registered mail is delivered, it's a mini post office service van that does it now.
I miss those guys... and wonder what happened to them now. Have they been assigned elsewhere in the post office because people hardly send mail anymore? It's the courier service companies that does the job these days. So where did the postman go?
In those days when receiving a handwritten letter was common, I was always thrilled to see the postman standing outside the gate handing over mail for me. And if it was from someone I haven't heard from for a long time, a huge smile would break out on my lips.
It's so sad that technology has made this job obsolete. And because of it, so much personal interaction is disappearing in our lives. What other jobs will people be deprived of because of advancements in technology?
Images: Unsplash
I liked Brenda's story. But technology gives way to new forms of communication. And those days of interacting with people in the mail at home are over. No one sends postcards in my country anymore and no one sends cards. Let alone letters.