But its a different story now. A visit can be likened to a visit to a cemetery as what used to be a hub of several activities is bereft of what can be regarded as even a spark of life. The ancient building, though not lacking in architectural modernity, stands out like a gloomy edifice in the glorious landscape of the ever-changing Marina.
At the postal hall where people engage in all sorts of businesses, there were just a pocket of three-to four people by a counter. Out of about ten to twelve counters, only three to four had people in them engaging in business. The other eight to ten counters were completely empty. Even some of the attendants on the empty counters had their heads down on the counters. It was nearly noon and it would not be out of place to say they were having siesta.
Would anyone blame them? These people had absolutely nothing to do. The so-called busy counters were the Special Delivery Service which includes courier services and other services totally different from the conventional postage services. As at the time of call, no one could be seen to be buying the conventional stamps. That section of the establishment was completely devoid of any form of life.
Since there appeared to be nothing anyone could gather from the hall, enquiries were made as to who could talk on the territorial office and the road led to the Area Postal Manager, called APM for short.
One would have wished he hadn’t asked because that was another uphill task that would not only leave you surprised but also gasping, for air.
For starters, what looked like the Security Post where one should normally register his presence looked like a place falling apart. You need not to be told you are in a place begging not only for upliftment but also gasping for air to survive. Of course it was no office, it would qualify as another ‘Baba Ijebu kiosk’ where betters come to stake their bets.
After signing in to see the APM as he is called, naturally you head for the elevators because the last thing on your mind would be taking on four flight of stairs to the fourth floor where his office is situated but a bored voice with a sarcastic note to it told me “elevator is out of order”. After contending with the scorching sun and having to walk from Apongbon to the CMS bus stop where the General Post Office is located, that was like a joke that was most unwelcomed.
But it wasn’t a joke as the journey up some twelve flight of stairs to the fourth floor has to be made if one truly deserves to see the man in charge.
They are of colonial mode and a bit more winding and longer. The elevator on each floor was shut, not like something out of order but more like something that has been abandoned for years.
After waiting to see the man in charge for the response, the APM said they were not given directive to speak to the Press. After so much probing, the man (name withheld) kindly asked us to come back after seeking clearance from the top.
Back to the postal hall after another ordeal down the stairs, we decided to speak to some of the customers in the postal hall. There were only eight of them.
One Mr Kanu was sending a parcel through the NIPOST courier service and he affirmed to the efficiency of the service. He said he has always patronised NIPOST because he believes they are the most reliable and most efficient.
Another customer, Mr Olalemi actually came to send some registered documents by post and he confessed he had not done anything of such in the last ten years.
Out of the eight we met as at the time of the sampling, none actually came to send a conventional letter. A further probing from the officials of NIPOST yielded no result as they declined to speak. Click to signup for FREE news updates, latest information and hottest gists everyday
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U sef, wetin carry u go there? U no c say na txt msg dm we dey send now? Wetin concern fish wit desert?
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