I hate feeling I'm hated.

I can’t please everyone, of course, but at least I should not make anyone loathe me, if I can avoid.

I’ve been busy for the past few weeks with constant travel to and fro Khoun district where our community radio station being established, for training. Our office is located in a town of Xiengkhouang. Few days ago my colleague called to inform me that a provincial post office had sent a notice letter to me to collect a package from Singapore within 7 days by yourself or authorizing someone to do so for you.

Having to work 8 to 5, Mon-Sat, for the past weeks, I decided draft an authorization letter authorizing my younger brother to collect that mysterious package (I was not sure whom this would be from. It could be from my former boss because I asked him to send me a certificate of employment. Or it could be from my Tuesday Group’s friends, especially Wee Liang who has sent 8 Days mags to me several times before.) with my passport.

When I returned home, I asked my brother excitedly what the package was. To my unpleasant surprise, I was told that a postman (woman, to be precise) refused to give the package to my brother; she wasn’t convinced that my brother and I were biologically related since the evidence he showed to her was an authorization letter with my genuine signature and original passport and his own identity card. She told my brother that I should be the one to collect the package myself although after being told by brother that I was away and busy, and that he should have a family book with clear photos showing that my brother and I were family.

The following day, I went to the post office having memorized some curse and swear words to shout at her. I was extremely angry. She was late. Before long I walked over to the counter after she entered. “Was it you whom my brother approached for the package?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied. “Why on earth you refused to keep my brother that package? Which part of evidence does not proof that I am not an owner of that package? I’ve written an authorization letter indicating the person being authorized with his ic number; I’ve also signed and accompanied the letter with my very own passport. Isn’t that enough?” I shouted at her although she was trying to explain. Other customers in the office were staring at me but I didn’t care; I was so out of control. “Passport is only used when you go overseas,” was her reason, “all we need to proof that you are the real owner of the package is your family recorded book with your photos and your brother’s. I didn’t keep the package out to your brother because I was afraid that later on you would come to us and ask from us again.” I was stunned with her response. How could that be possible? First of all, I’ve written an authorization letter and duly signed on it; the letter has indicated that my brother with his IC is authorized to collect the package on behalf of me. Second, I’ve given my passport book to my brother. Together with his identity card, he has presented an authorization letter and my passport book to her. And third, in order to get my passport, I must already possess an identity card; in order to get an identity card, I must already have a family recorded book. Therefore, having a passport book is much higher than having a family book. In other word, if I have a passport it means I already have a family recorded book and IC. It makes no sense to me at all that she rejected my passport over a family book.

Anyway, after my few shouts, she succumbed, or so I thought. I started to feel terrible for her and myself. She went to a kept room to get the package for me. Awhile later, she brought a big yellow envelope with her. I recognized that neat handwriting; it’s Eek’s. After long silent, I was thinking to myself I should probably apologize to her for shouting at her like that although she was absolutely ignorant about passport-family-book thing. Just when she handed the package to me, she said, “You don’t have to shout at me like this. I didn’t give the package to your brother because he didn’t have a family book to show…” And just like that, I took the envelope from her and walked away without even looking at her or saying ‘thanks’.

I left that place feeling provoked angrily. Why should I be so angry? Who is she and why should I care? She was just ignorant. I wasn’t wrong. Why should I feel guilty and sorry? Maybe, I shouldn’t think about it. Damn it.