The Piano has arrived

No one ever accused the French government of creating efficient systems and nobody ever accused the African versions of those systems of running especially well.
This week we received, with great delight and thanks to God, our piano (Yamaha electric), which had been shipped from the US via Emirates Air. What follows is the story of getting it through customs (a French designed, African run system). If you're too busy to read it, just thank God that he is powerful and answers when we call. (Spoiler: the piano is set up in Cindy's office, and she loves having it again.)

Monday: I called the shipping agent from Emirates Air to confirm that the piano was there. It was.
Tuesday: The drive from home to airport is about 45 minutes. I arrived at 9:15 and met the shipping agent. He took me to the appropriate office to pick up the paperwork (and pay $40) after which he said, “OK, I'm done. You have the paperwork. Now you need to hire a “transitaire” (someone to carry the paperwork back and forth between the customs officials to make sure everything happens that is necessary). I said that I was there and would handle it myself. He said, “No. That won't work. Here is one. Hire her.” I agreed and we started off. I thought it would be interesting to count how many steps there were to getting the piano. That first morning we did 7 and then it was strongly suggested that I return home because there was no way the piano could be released that day. The transitaire's boss said that he would call tomorrow when it was ready. I said I'd be back in the morning to pick it up. I left at 11:30a.m., having paid $300: $100 for the piano, $200 for the transitaire (I don't know if they had to pay any bribes, but I was never made aware of that happening.)

Wednesday: I again arrived near 9:15. I sat with other transitaires all morning discussing baptism, clergy roles, and other Christian topics. Not a bad way to spend the morning. When I asked about the piano, all I heard was that the network was down and so not much was happening. I decided I needed to intervene. I told them that after lunch, I was going with them to the offices to help things move along. They said, “No problem. When everyone comes back from lunch at 3, we'll go together.” What time does the warehouse close? 5:30.
I hadn't come prepared with lunch or even water so I just sat there. The transitaire asked if I was going out for lunch. I replied, “No. I'll eat after I have the piano.” That became my refrain for the rest of the day. I hadn't thought of it before deciding not to eat, but the Christian practice of “fasting” is all about not eating in order to ask God for specific grace in some area. Here was an area where we needed specific grace. So, I spent lunch time (11:30 to 3) reading, praying, sleeping (in a chair). When everyone returned, they were amazed that I had not moved. “I'll eat after I have the piano.” So we started.
In the first office, I didn't have much impact. It took an hour and 15 minutes to get a signature. (Now 4:15). Second office, we needed a customs official to look at the piano in order to verify that it really was a piano. Of course, we had done this yesterday. When I asked about the redundancy, the transitaire said, “Yesterday was a lower official. This is a higher official.” I didn't bother to tell her that the redundancy still made no sense to me. We went to the warehouse and went through the repeated scramble to find a pass to get in. (Anyone with a pass may go in, but there are not enough passes to go around. So friends regularly lend their pass – with photo ID – to each other so they can go in. They maintain the form of security without the power thereof.) I didn't get a pass that time, so I handed the keys to the piano to the transitaire. I assume they saw the piano. We returned to the office where I watched one official read the paper; another play solitaire on the computer; and our guy at his desk.
Our transitaire was so freaked out by my mantra “I'll eat after I have the piano” that she told everybody when we arrived in an office. My guess is that she was concerned for my health (physical or mental). So, everyone in the office knew I was a pastor and was not eating. I asked what the holdup was. They said the network was down again. I replied, “I don't have time for the network to be down. It will come up.” Just then it came up. (I'm glad I did that praying during lunch.) Seeing this, the head of the office asked that I bless them. I said I would if they could get my paperwork out of there in 7 minutes. (It was already 4:53). So, they skipped typing it into the computer and just signed off with handwritten version. I called on God for rich blessings for that office. I was grateful for their work.
Next office: the transitaire just dropped off the paperwork. I wanted to go into the office, but she wouldn't let me because she said the man gets mad if pressured. I told her that I'd go to the warehouse (which was next) to make sure they didn't close before we could get there. On the way out of the building, I saw one of the men from the “blessed” office. He told me where the head of the warehouse was and gave me the exact words to speak to him. I went straight to the top. When the chief heard the situation, he called the man in whose office our paperwork was sitting and asked him to rush it through. At the same time, he called his man on the floor of the warehouse and told him that my piano needed to get out that day. Again, God prepared a good reception.
The transitaire, who all day had been saying, “just come back tomorrow, we can't possibly get this out today” started to see that the piano was getting out. After picking up the paperwork, she dispatched friends to get carbon paper, paperclip, photocopying done and other multiple steps. I just kept walking because I knew the next step. What would normally take an hour, she did in 5 minutes. We were close.
It was 5:30 when we entered the warehouse. We found passes into the warehouse this time because we had the guy who runs the place with us. He ordered two passes from a drawer somewhere. They were new; nobody uses them apparently. My transitaire was off somewhere getting signatures while I spotted the piano and (with the help of the staff) pulled it to the front of the warehouse. There again, there were a half dozen signatures to get; the transitaire was jumping from one desk to another and back again to get the signatures in the right order.
When I drove away a little before 6, I know the transitaire was relieved to see me go. The crazy pastor who wouldn't go home (I offered to sleep on the floor of the office of the head of customs department once when she suggested that I return the next day) and who wouldn't eat until the piano was released.
I knew the system worked, it just needed some pressure by an outsider and some lubricant by the power of God. The piano is set up in Cindy's office, and she loves having it once again.

Thursday: The head of the “blessed” office called our home to make sure that Matt and the piano had arrived safely. Cindy assured him that they had and thanked him greatly.