Two Wheels and Countless Letters

70-year-old Surik has been cycling up to 40 kilometers weekly for nearly 40 years, delivering letters and packages across Artashat.

“As long as my bike is with me, there are no tough roads,” says Surik Khudoyan, who has worked most of his life as a mailman. He reached retirement age seven years ago but refuses to stop working. Determined to adapt, he has learned to use the internet and digital tablets to keep up with the times.  

A mailman’s job is never easy. You never know if you are delivering good news or bad. These days, most of the mail comes from banks, the Compulsory Enforcement Service, the military commissariat, and courts. Who would want to be the bearer of bad news? But what can you do?

I deliver letters and parcels. We used to deliver pensions and maternity benefits, but now banks handle most of that. We deliver pensions to people 75 years of age and older, and benefits for those with disabilities.

Sunday is my only day off.

Every morning at 9 a.m., I’m at the Artashat post office no matter what, even if the world is ending. We wait for envelopes and packages to arrive, sort them by address, and then I head out to deliver. 

Some days, I deliver up to 100-150 letters, usually when pensions are issued or during military draft periods. But there are also days when I deliver as few as seven.

Every single letter requires effort. Even if there is only one, I have to deliver it to the right address, no matter how remote the village. 

I’m from the village of Berkanush. I lived in the city of Artashat for 18 years, but eventually, I moved back to the village.

I worked as a technician at the hail station for 10 years. In 1987, I was laid off and began searching for a job. When I went to the post office, they told me there were no full-time positions available, but I could work as a substitute. There were six postmen, and each day, I would fill in for one of them, covering their route. 

I worked like that for some time until one of the female workers went on maternity leave. When she decided not to return, I took her place.

I love my job and see it as a duty. I’m a simple villager, but since I have a civic job, I don’t work the land. I visit different people’s homes every day, so I shouldn’t smell like soil. My son, on the other hand, farms pigs and works the land. 

People often invite me in, especially when I deliver their pensions. They want to share, have a chat, but I’m always in a hurry and can’t stay long. After all, I have money to deliver, a task that comes with great responsibility. 

When I reached retirement age, I worried I would be let go. I realized I couldn’t live on my pension alone, and with my active lifestyle, I always need to be doing something. Staying home all day just isn’t for me.

I learned how to use the internet pretty quickly. I had never seen a tablet before. I don’t even have a smartphone. Mine is old, with buttons. But it’s enough for me. What matters is that it’s durable. 

The responsibilities are greater now. It’s harder than it used to be because there were no logs back in the day. Now, every single step is tracked. 

Some days, I wake up and realize my legs hurt, my back aches, but I head to work, take a few steps and start feeling better.

Back in the day, when there were lots of newspapers, I wouldn’t start my job until I’d read all of them. Now, with only a few left, I read about actors’ lives, dive into horoscopes, and explore articles about health.

I keep healthy by walking a lot and washing with cold water. I’m an old man, but I don’t wear glasses yet, I eat a lot of carrots.

I’ll bid farewell to life much sooner if I stop working. I walk and ride kilometers daily, and that keeps me healthy. Working makes me feel lighter. I’ll quit when I feel my work has become a burden to someone else. 

There will always be mailmen, because there will always be pensioners who can’t leave their homes to collect their money, and there will always be people receiving notices. There’s no place on earth without a mailman, it’s the most human of jobs. Everybody needs us.

I’m satisfied with my life. Maybe the only thing I need is a new bike. As hard as it is to admit, my bike has lived its life. But I hope I still have some living to do.