Some months ago it was announced that the Kingdom was to have postal delivery to homes and businesses. The countrywide implementation of the service would be completed in two years. I couldn’t help but laugh when I read the news because it seemed so improbable.
These days I can’t get a pizza delivered to my home, let alone a letter. In the Eastern Province, restaurants use a map provided by the Ministry of Water and Electricity to find any location desiring home delivery. How it works is that when a customer wants food delivered, all she has to do is give the water meter number with the order. The delivery service finds the numbered water meter on the ministry’s map and in 30 minutes or less the order is at the correct house. Unfortunately, our home is in a new area not yet indexed on the ministry’s map, so no restaurant will deliver to our place.
In fact all businesses are having a difficult time getting deliveries to our home. It’s true that we don’t have an address; none of the streets in our district are named yet. But I don’t think that’s the problem. When we moved to Al-Waha district, we had a map created. It combined a standard municipal map of the city with additional computer imagery to provide detailed directions to our house. We’ve faxed the map all over town trying to get delivery of everything from furniture to landscaping materials. The effort has been useless. I have come to believe that the real issue with deliveries to our home is that we don’t have any major landmarks, such as a Pepsi Plant or hospital nearby.
I have a certain rationale for these thoughts. You see, until two months ago I lived on the border between two of the area’s central districts. Our building was a new one. It had a marvelous address — Prince Hamoud Street at the cross of 4th Street. It was the only new building at that cross and it was unoccupied on the ground floor so it should have been a slam dunk to get deliveries there. It wasn’t.
Companies would call to say they had a package for delivery and ask my location. “Prince Hamoud where it crosses 4th street. It’s the beige building that’s unoccupied downstairs. Come up to the second floor,” I’d reply. “Is that Saad Hospital Street?” the courier would inevitably ask. “Yes it is.”
I’d wait and wait of course, and there would be no delivery. Hours later I’d get another phone call from the courier. “Hi. I’m at Tamimi Safeway. Are you anywhere near there?” he’d ask. “Yes,” I’d reply. “We are a few streets straight ahead of you. Just stay on Prince Hamoud Street and when you see the cross of 4th Street that’s our location on the right.” Thirty minutes later there would be another call from the courier stating that he was on Dhahran Road and he couldn’t find our building. In fact to get to Dhahran Road he would have passed right in front of the building, but somehow even though the streets at the location were clearly marked in English and Arabic, finding Prince Hamoud at 4th Street was impossible.
Finally, just months before we moved, a miracle happened. A company named “Al-Kauser” began to set up their showroom on the ground floor of our building and they put up their signboard outside. Suddenly, deliveries became simple. I’d give out the address, Prince Hamoud at the 4th Street cross and then mention that it was in the building with Al-Kauser’s showroom downstairs. Every courier on the planet was instantly enabled to find the location.
Before I lived on Prince Hamoud Street, I lived in the Bandariyah district. Bandariyah has no street signs but it has some wondrous landmarks. Take those landmarks, couple them with a mobile phone and getting the courier to the building was like guiding a plane in for landing. Night deliveries were even easier than daytime deliveries for the simple reason that we could see the headlights of the courier’s vehicle approaching.
In Bandariyah we’d stand in the window on the first floor facing the street. The courier would have instructions to call from the Al-Falak building. “I’m at Al-Falak,” he’d shout into the mobile handset over the noise of the traffic. “That’s great,” we’d yell back. “Now pass Riyadh House and the gas station and make a right. Then make the first right and then the first left and drive straight.” We’d wait about a minute and then shout into the phone once again. “Okay, from our window we can see your headlights. Keep on coming. Excellent. There you are. Make a right and drive straight ahead to the building with the gold doors. We’ll come down to meet you.”
Those simple days are now long gone. Our current mission is to find a way to get a pizza delivered to our new house. After two months of trying we are still far from that goal. Frankly, it seems to be an impossible dream. I’m starting to believe it might be easier to get a pizza delivered to Mars than to have one arrive hot and crispy at house No. 11 in Al-Waha district, Eastern Province, KSA. Suggestions welcomed. Write to [email protected].
