*SO TOUCHING*
I receive more than 1,000 letters and mails every month, at office.
All of these letters and mails pass through my own hands.
I stay up all nights reading and responding.
After my promotion.
I had to move into a new office and take over some special duties, coupled with the ones I have already.
I saw written letters that were dumped somewhere inside the new office which no one has opened nor touched.
I wondered how the letters got there.
The envelopes used for the letters were very dusty. About nineteen letters from the same person.
It has same name.
Same phone number.
Same address.
Same request.
And same handwriting.
When our cleaners wanted to dispose them, I told him to bring them for me.
I opened and read one.
It was a letter written to the accounts and finance department of our company by a labourer in November 2019.
The letter was a request.
The worker was humbly requesting the head of accounts department to pay him, that he is critically sick and needs the money for urgent treatment. In the letter, he stated that he had hepatitis which affected his liver.
I read the second letter. It was the same request. Looking at the letters, one will know that it was written with tears. The drops of tears were still visible on it, since the letters were inserted in an envelope.
I read the third letter and saw the same thing.
I read the fourth letter and it was still the same request.
He has been writing and sending in letters since November 2019 and the last letter there was written on 10 August 2020, which the writer stated that the accounts department should have mercy on him and his family and unblock his line and answer his calls.
It was confusing.
Who blocks people's lines here?
I decided to call.
I used my phone and dialed the number on one of the letters I was holding, which was the last letter written on 10 August 2020.
It rang.
No one picked.
I dialed it again.
It ranged again.
Someone picked.
I spoke first.
“Hello,” I said, “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.” a female voice answered. It was the voice of a middle aged woman.
I told her my name and where I was calling from.
She kept quiet.
I told her that I am calling to speak with the person who bears the name on the letters.
She started sobbing over the phone.
“He is lying down here.” She cried.
“Who?” I asked to reaffirm.
“The person you want to speak with.”
“Can I speak with him, please?”
“He can't talk again. He is only breathing. He can't move. He doesn't even know that someone is sitting beside him. I am his wife. We have been writing letters and calling but you people said we should not disturb you people again. Our lines was blocked. His money was withheld. We sent people to you people's office but they came back with nothing.” She cried, “We are just waiting for him to go and rest.”
I couldn't say a word.
I was just dropping tears because of the way she spoke.
She continued.
