Letting Off Steam

Seni, our new Indonesian maid joined us about a month ago. Barely twenty, she knew nothing of housekeeping and even less of life outside her kampung. She says (in Indon), and I hear (in broken Malay), that her family dabble in housework to bring in the money but I wonder what that means when she has difficulty frying vegetables.

Seni is a sweet and to date, honest girl. We soon discovered that she did not know how to boil eggs because they were always fried where she came from. In fact, she had never seen a hard boiled egg, let alone the half boiled variety that Bubbit wallops every morning. She has never flash-cooked vegetables before, never trimmed the skin and fat off chicken and never washed a car.

So really, it was only a matter of time when communication wires became tangled, frustration mounted and tempers flared.

I reckon it's easier to be angry at someone when they are defenseless. It gives you that sense of power to belittle someone and for them to be afaid of your power and authority. It is in essence, aprime example of the school bully syndrome.

Last weekend, I had marinated chicken and fish fillets to feed nine friends I was having over for a steamboat dinner. In the evening I instructed Seni to cook some of it for Bubbit's dinner. I returned to find all the chicken and fish in Bubbits little stock pot. Needless to say I hit the roof like a hurricane and Seni was left standing there not knowing what hit her. (For the sake of clarity, she was not hit physically though the tone that I used may have woundedanyone's ego and I am sure her confidence took a real battering). Her baffled look made me blow even angrier. "How could she not know?"

But when the dust settled, I asked myself, "how could she have known?" She had no idea what a steamboat was (now, I doubt if she'll ever forget), did not understand my half-baked Malay and was too meek to question it.

There are other things we were angry with her that last night. Like washing the crystal wine glasses with detergent. How was she to know that would leave a taste in the glass?

Like setting the table slowly without the proper scoops.

In a way, I can understand how some housewives can be driven to abuse their maids. Whilst I certainly do not advocate it, it is at times, so very easy to lash out at the person nearest to you. And often, in an empty house, after the husband and kids have been shipped off to work and school, the only other person left standing is the defenceless maid.

When someone throws a spanner in the workings of your hectic schedule, causing disruptions and added stress, it is hard to think out of the equation. All we see is our chickenless steamboat, our ruined dinner party, our even more complex lives. But who thinks of their lives back in Indonesia?Their simple lives where just getting food in their stomachs is a blessing; where do crystal wine glasses and cutlery fit in there?

Our previous maid was an Indonesian who had travleed the world and worked in theMiddle East for a good ten years. We treated her like gold and trusted her with our baby. We later discovered she had been sleeping around and was sneaking salt into my son's porridge so that feeding him was easier.

It's not easy to draw the line. We gave to the underserving and hold back from the unproven.

After the Slutty Maid, I vowed never to feel sorry for a maid again but Seni strikes a chord. She is barely out of her teens. When I was her age, I was at university and my biggest worry was my hangover the next day. When my Mum urged me to work during the long summer holidays I retorted that I worked so hard the rest of the year that I deserved to do nothing for three months. Throw me in a toilet and I wouldn't have been able to tell between a toilet brish and a toothbrush.

And here we have this girl, far away from home, without a person caring for her needs. Instead she is caring for those of others. I sometimes wonder is she needs some mothering. Her mother is far away and those around her do nothing but tell her she is slow and scold her.

People say that when you have a maid, your life becomes easier. Whilst I don't have to mop floors anymore, things have become complicated. I am responsible for her now. If she doesn't eat well, she will fall sick. If I mistreat her, I will scar her for life. I have become, essentially, responsible for another life (though not to the same extent of the Bubbit).

And if this isn't about growing up, I don;t know what is.