What to say

Haven't had a lot of fodder for the blog recently. New Year has come
and gone, fairly uneventfully, with board games and a few visits into
the hospital after hours. Progress begins on the tennis court, hampered
by the rain, funerals, and would-be thieves trying to take my precious
cement. Today I have staked dogs near the cement to ward them off.
Zambians for the most part retain a large fear of domestic animals, dogs
and cats both, and the Griffiths' dogs are particularly vocal, making
them ideal guard dogs against most nighttime predations.

We had an unusual delivery tonight as the supply truck for medical
stores arrived, unannounced, at 9pm. I get a phone call from the
hospital asking me what they should do so I get out of my house to see
what the deal is. Obviously no one's available at 9 pm to unload
medical supplies or drugs, and I emerge from my front door to see a huge
18 wheeler truck parked outside the hospital, covered with a tarp and
obviously stacked with a fair number of boxes. I'm a little worried
what we're going to do with all that equipment that no one was expected
at such a late hour, but fortunately I don't have to worry long. I
stroll up to the truck to find two very tired drivers who had traveled
over 16 hours that day. Stacked next to them were two small boxes each
about the size of a large shoebox containing some ready-to-use formula
for our malnourished children. The conversation went something like this:

"Hey there, I'm Dr. Matt, can I help you?"
"Dr...?" I repeat my name, but it's clear that they aren't going to get
'Matt' correctly, so I let the matter drop quickly.
They press on: "We've come to deliver these to you."
Me, looking around, seeing the two boxes. "You mean these?"
"Yes."
I'm slightly puzzled at this point, given the size of the truck and the
size of the package, which would have taken up maybe 1/5 of a regular
car trunk, sitting next to this 18 wheeler truck that they've driven all
day. "You mean these? You drove this huge truck all this way to
deliver two boxes?" I ask again.
"Well, we have other places we need to visit, too."
"Umm, thanks very much, then." We look at each other. "Well, have a
safe trip." At which point they climb back into their truck and head
back up the road, and I grab the two boxes and carry them to the
malnutrition ward. I am glad at this moment that I am not a driver for
MSL. I can't help but imagine some UPS supervisor viewing this whole
process and simply shaking his head.