Yes, yes, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Actually I have been writing this post in my head for ages, trying to find a way to throw this on the table. Its admission speaks tomes about shifts in our collective mentality as a family living in the Middle East.
We have hired a house maid.
There. It is now out in the open and thus allows an examination of its implications from all angles.
Yes, we have a house maid. How we came to employ a housemaid is pretty straightforward. We simply convinced ourselves that by employing this woman, whom I will call S, we would be doing her a world of good by supplying her with an extra bit of money. Naturally we would be doing her far more good than she would be doing us.
By convincing ourselves of the goodness of our deed, we handily steered past the need to consider the fact that we not only would be underpaying (by American standards, although not by Omani standards) this woman severely but would be doing so quite happily simply because "everyone else is doing it."
Done.
I found myself needing to unburden my soul to someone within minutes of this monumental decision and upon confessing to a friend was met with a snort of laughter and a sarcastic, "Oh, well, how civilized of you. And she's only coming in two days a week? Well that makes it all right then, doesn't it?"
Doesn't it?
Another friend, also an American, sat with a shocked expression on his face and finally managed a "Wow. That's very colonial of you."
It is? Yes, I suppose it is.
As an individual with almost no experience in employing and underpaying people for menial tasks, I realized I had a long way to go and a lot to learn when it comes to having domestic help. And what better person to guide me through the ins and outs of this than the housemaid herself. On our first meeting, I confessed that I was not sure how to have a housemaid and asked if she could help me know how to do things. "Yes, of course," S replied. "I have been a housemaid for 18 years. I know just what to do. I will teach you."
On her first day of whipping my house into shape, I got up early and cleaned so that S would not think us total slobs. I also made the kids get up early and do their chores so that S would not think our children lazy. Silas was hanging underwear on the back balcony when S arrived, which painted the picture of non-laziness that I was desiring.
S took a quick inventory of my cleaning supplies and a walking tour of the Marble Mansion and, I suspect, secretly divined that we were in fact total slobs. Not only that, but she quickly decided that we were completely lacking on the cleaning supply front and placed an order for all sorts of scrubby things and chemicals that I had never considered necessary purchases during my time here. Now, however, I own them all plus I have spares, just in case. Gotta keep S happy.
Having gotten all of that nonsense sorted, she launched into a bi-weekly ritual that we now have down pat. S arrives at an ungodly hour two mornings a week, which is a challenge as it means that I have to get up even earlier to arrange the house into some semblance of order. She traumatizes the cats with the vacuum and then sets about mopping and scrubbing while I jump around the swishing mop and try to get breakfast made for the kids.
S hugs the children as they get up, encourages them with their studies. and generally plays the good patient mother-figure while I step on cats and slop tea on the floor in an attempt to stay out of her way while feeding the children. We then leave the house for the school's morning exercise routine, but not until I have plunked a bag of produce on the counter and asked S to work a miracle.
She asks, "Supper, ma'am?"
And I say, "Yes. Here is a bag of ____________" (fill in the blank...okra, eggplant, lentils, tomatoes, wilted green stuff, etc.)
S eyes the bag suspiciously and then says, "Ok, how bout ________________" (fill in the blank with some Sri Lankan word that I have not heard before).
I nod and then walk out the door.
We come home an hour later and S has taken that one bag of veggies and from it made an enormous pot of rice, a beautiful salad with colorful vegetables arranged in rings, a curry, and a cooked vegetable dish. I have come to suspect that Jesus may have been something of a Sri Lankan housemaid what with that loaves and fishes trick.
This is all well and good, but there is more to it than this. Having a housemaid means that we really live in the Gulf now. It is like putting pictures up on the wall, or planting annuals in a flower bed around your house. Having a housemaid says, "I have bought into this culture." In a sense, the housemaid thing is expected of residents of the Gulf, whether expat or local, and truthfully everyone here seems to have at least one housemaid. As a matter of fact, our landlord has two housemaids, plus a houseboy and a driver. Tony says that when he gets seven cars he too will employ an underpaid driver.
So that is our latest confession from Oman. Tune in next time for another stunning confession from the Middle East. I will leave you guessing...
We have hired a house maid.
There. It is now out in the open and thus allows an examination of its implications from all angles.
Yes, we have a house maid. How we came to employ a housemaid is pretty straightforward. We simply convinced ourselves that by employing this woman, whom I will call S, we would be doing her a world of good by supplying her with an extra bit of money. Naturally we would be doing her far more good than she would be doing us.
By convincing ourselves of the goodness of our deed, we handily steered past the need to consider the fact that we not only would be underpaying (by American standards, although not by Omani standards) this woman severely but would be doing so quite happily simply because "everyone else is doing it."
Done.
I found myself needing to unburden my soul to someone within minutes of this monumental decision and upon confessing to a friend was met with a snort of laughter and a sarcastic, "Oh, well, how civilized of you. And she's only coming in two days a week? Well that makes it all right then, doesn't it?"
Doesn't it?
Another friend, also an American, sat with a shocked expression on his face and finally managed a "Wow. That's very colonial of you."
It is? Yes, I suppose it is.
As an individual with almost no experience in employing and underpaying people for menial tasks, I realized I had a long way to go and a lot to learn when it comes to having domestic help. And what better person to guide me through the ins and outs of this than the housemaid herself. On our first meeting, I confessed that I was not sure how to have a housemaid and asked if she could help me know how to do things. "Yes, of course," S replied. "I have been a housemaid for 18 years. I know just what to do. I will teach you."
On her first day of whipping my house into shape, I got up early and cleaned so that S would not think us total slobs. I also made the kids get up early and do their chores so that S would not think our children lazy. Silas was hanging underwear on the back balcony when S arrived, which painted the picture of non-laziness that I was desiring.
S took a quick inventory of my cleaning supplies and a walking tour of the Marble Mansion and, I suspect, secretly divined that we were in fact total slobs. Not only that, but she quickly decided that we were completely lacking on the cleaning supply front and placed an order for all sorts of scrubby things and chemicals that I had never considered necessary purchases during my time here. Now, however, I own them all plus I have spares, just in case. Gotta keep S happy.
Having gotten all of that nonsense sorted, she launched into a bi-weekly ritual that we now have down pat. S arrives at an ungodly hour two mornings a week, which is a challenge as it means that I have to get up even earlier to arrange the house into some semblance of order. She traumatizes the cats with the vacuum and then sets about mopping and scrubbing while I jump around the swishing mop and try to get breakfast made for the kids.
S hugs the children as they get up, encourages them with their studies. and generally plays the good patient mother-figure while I step on cats and slop tea on the floor in an attempt to stay out of her way while feeding the children. We then leave the house for the school's morning exercise routine, but not until I have plunked a bag of produce on the counter and asked S to work a miracle.
She asks, "Supper, ma'am?"
And I say, "Yes. Here is a bag of ____________" (fill in the blank...okra, eggplant, lentils, tomatoes, wilted green stuff, etc.)
S eyes the bag suspiciously and then says, "Ok, how bout ________________" (fill in the blank with some Sri Lankan word that I have not heard before).
I nod and then walk out the door.
We come home an hour later and S has taken that one bag of veggies and from it made an enormous pot of rice, a beautiful salad with colorful vegetables arranged in rings, a curry, and a cooked vegetable dish. I have come to suspect that Jesus may have been something of a Sri Lankan housemaid what with that loaves and fishes trick.
This is all well and good, but there is more to it than this. Having a housemaid means that we really live in the Gulf now. It is like putting pictures up on the wall, or planting annuals in a flower bed around your house. Having a housemaid says, "I have bought into this culture." In a sense, the housemaid thing is expected of residents of the Gulf, whether expat or local, and truthfully everyone here seems to have at least one housemaid. As a matter of fact, our landlord has two housemaids, plus a houseboy and a driver. Tony says that when he gets seven cars he too will employ an underpaid driver.
So that is our latest confession from Oman. Tune in next time for another stunning confession from the Middle East. I will leave you guessing...
