Maid Tales; Decoding our domestic staff

This morning, on my way back from dropping kids to school, I sat back in the car, staring out of the window aimlessly, taking in the early morning view of the cityscape. Mornings have a strange way of filling you up with hope; the cars zipping by busily, some dog walkers on the stroll, beautiful flowers heralding spring outside houses. Yet the one thing that struck me the most this morning was the large number of domestic workers I saw starting their day.

This work force was out and about in hordes rushing around the posh locality. Duppattas wrapped tightly around them, clutching their small and worn out bags or wallets, they strode on purposefully. Each one headed to their respective employer’s house, with a long and hard day of toil awaiting them.  Locally, termed as Massi or Kaam Wali, or most most recently upgraded to the term maids, these domestic workers lead quite a sad existence. They cook, clean, wash, sweep and serve and yet they are almost an invisible part of the society. It’s quite interesting and I wonder often how these beautiful mansions with perfectly manicured lawns would function even for a day if not for this amazing work force?

However, unfortunately, the way we treat them leaves much to be desired. Minimal wages, long hours and mostly harsh treatment by the employers are just the surface issues. The biggest problem remains their unequal status as a human being, where we believe that just because they are born economically lesser than us they are lesser humans and deserve no respect and rights! They can cook for us but not eat with us, they can take care of our kids but not share the same sofa or chairs with us.

Their constant woes of poverty and demands for small loans or monetary help, provides fodder for our coffee morning conversation. Without us realizing for a moment that this probably is what their life is; problems and more problems.  We think we outsmart them by not granting them the miniscule loan they asked for in lieu of their niece’s wedding in the village. Maybe its true in cases, they were probably lying and we very shrewdly saw through the lie. However, what’s really heart wrenching is that the much discussed and rejected loan was the amount equivalent to the bill we pick up at the local café for a coffee morning without batting an eye lid. Maybe the money wasn’t actually going towards the cause stated, but one can say with much conviction that surely it must be a cause worthier than the Bullet Proof Coffees and Avacado Salads ordered for our gossip sessions.

The Toughest Job in the World!

 

I have had a career that switched lanes quite drastically (swerved seems more apt a word). Starting from an internship at a bank, I moved to a newspaper for my first proper job.  Next I jumped into the big bad world of advertising  but within a few years I bid adieu to it and moved abroad to work with a production house. As fate would have it, soon I was lured back to my home country with an offer from a multinational company.

So while my Resume may reflect a haphazard trajectory, I had loved every moment and every part of this journey. It was only at the (abrupt) tail end of this career that I discovered the most difficult job I had ever taken up. Motherhood! It’s not the crazy hours or the (non existent) paycheque. It’s not even the sleepless nights and the anxieties and fears that a mother always carries no matter how old or young her off springs maybe. Rather, it is much more than that and this I discovered when my twin girls turned 9 and realisation dawned upon me that this really is not going to get easy ever.

With premature twin girls the first year was surely the toughest in terms of physical exertion. Be it endless feed times, constant diaper changes or the dreaded visits to the paediatricians’ clinic with waiting sessions that seemed almost eternal.

Not to mention the sleepless nights and days. Sleep deprivation is undoubtedly the number one grievance of all new mothers, add to that twin babies and top it with the babies being premature hence needing almost 24-hour care, the result is not less sleep its simply no sleep!

Going without sleep for almost 48 hours at times, at that point I used to think if only I could get a decent night’s sleep life will be perfect with my babies. Little did I know that this was only the beginning to the many challenges motherhood would be posing along the way moving ahead.

As I weaned them from milk and moved onto solid foods things began to look brighter and easier. Very soon though the myth was shattered as I realised that I was so not on top of the things in the food world. I was not supposed to introduce wheat, honey, fish or eggs initially as they may lead to a lifetime of allergies. Some fellow mums were so horrified when they heard that I had introduced salt in their meals as well, when there was no need. The logic being that babies don’t really know the difference do they? If we don’t develop their taste buds, they won’t need salt in their food. Smart point why did I never think of that myself? And the cardinal sin that I committed which I never dared to reveal to the world before today was that I actually gave them sugar in the first year of their existence. Pardon my ignorance but I only learnt after having my kids that as per the latest research on health, Sugar is equivalent to Poison. Only bad mothers give sugar to their kids. The more I read up and discussed the more complicated things became. Things came to a point where I became so paranoid that it seemed to me that that every single food item in my kitchen and pantry is either bad for the baby’s health, non-organic, laden with pesticides or bad quality. I was lagging so far behind in the motherhood race that it was unbelievable. While I had lovingly pureed and fed my kids the local (actually Chinese) carrots available from the local veggie guy, all the together and “with it” mommies were only giving their children organic vegetables.

Then came the academics, which school and when? The debate was never ending. I thought my girls were the smartest kids I had come across. And why not? After all they were pointing out and recognising over 10 colours and humming their favourite nursery rhymes with me.

Once we entered the big bad world of schooling we encountered the uber cool, ultra smart toddlers who were already training to be competitive swimmers, speaking three different languages and solving some word problems also at age three. This may not be a bad thing either, as I realised that the job description of motherhood has changed quite a bit since I last saw our mum helping us with homework. Mothers are working super hard on their kids to develop their talents and skills from a very small age. Perhaps stemming from my inability to cope with the pace of things I was very cynical about this scenario. Why is everyone so rushed and ambitious? Why can’t we just let kids enjoy childhood like we did? However, soon realisation dawned that times have changed and how. The world is not the same today as it was five years back let alone comparing it our childhood which is probably the stone age counted in technology and communication years. And if you want to give your kid a head start in this redefined and redesigned world you better build up their unique talents.

As my children are growing the next milestone will be their teen years and this time I am trying to prep myself up. I have stopped comparisons to my own childhood and its simplicity. Times have always changed but the the way the entire landscape of life has changed in the past two decades perhaps is unprecedented in the history of time.  

I have to unlearn and keep up. Not give in to peer pressure yet accept the inevitable norms of the day and bring up my children accordingly. With a job description that is more comprehensive than any and a reward system that is intangible this is by far and most certainly the toughest job I have ever had!  

Once Upon a Rain in Karachi...

Once upon a rain in Karachi!

My kids scream in delight, unused to the sensation of rain water splattering down all over and around them. The scorching Karachi sun has finally been defeated and is nowhere to be seen on the cloudy grey horizon. I stand under an umbrella taking stock of my surroundings.  Though tempted I am wary of stepping directly out in the rain as it drenches my spectacles and I need to keep an eye on my girls jumping around on our roof with the not very high boundary walls. My heart swells up with joy just watching these two out in the rain with not a care in the world. So much more because it has finally pulled them away from staring non-stop at their favorite Youtuber’s mundane yet addictive life on the computer screen. Wow such is the power of nature! If only we could engage our kids more with nature, it’s beauty and diversity they probably wouldn’t seek so much solace in the virtual world of Youtube, Roblox and Instagram.

Smiling to myself I look down and around the wet neighborhood. The old lady next door comes out to their terrace balcony and picks up an empty round white porcelain plate from a chair. ‘She probably forgot it here….’ I think to myself only to be proven wrong a moment later. As I looked out of the corner of my eye she picks up the plate raises it to her mouth and drinks the rain water gathered in it and places it back carefully to be refilled. Amazing! Must have some hidden health benefits. I make a mental note to google it before I follow suit. However, this must be done urgently to take advantage of this downpour, slight delay and I maybe left waiting for the next two years.

Afraid of being caught in my peeping tom avatar, I shift my gaze to the road where cars are speeding past heedlessly splashing oodles of water on the helpless pedestrians.  A man hurries past wearing what looks like a plastic shirt. I squint and stare to realize it’s a long dry cleaning cover bag; the type they put on our clothes for pickup. The creative guy has cut out arm and neck holes to wear it and protect himself somewhat from being drenched. We are a nation that finds creative solutions and ways to survive in limited means or else we would have long been obsolete with the issues we face.

Suddenly a loud rumble of generator machines announces that the electricity has left the building rather the vicinity yet again. My heart so swelled up with the happiness that rain brings with it starts to sink slowly. ‘How long is the electricity gone for?’ ‘Do we have enough petrol?’ ‘What if it’s a major breakdown?’

‘Mum look its so much fun to jump in the water without shoes’ the twins are tugging at my sleeve. I quickly smile and shrugging off my dark adult worries slip my feet out of my shoes to know what they mean. Ahhh pure bliss!

‘Lake, Lake!, we need a boat Baaji’, the girls are screaming for attention again, but not mine. This time they are excitedly taking to our house help Saba, a young girl who has also taken a break from the routine work and joined us on the rooftop. I move forward to see what they are pointing at and freeze in my tracks. The plot next to our house has turned into a huge mud colored lake as my daughters have named it. I look at it in dismay as rain drops plop fast and heavy on the surface of the huge water body formed due to the depression in the middle of the plot. With colorful polythene bags and assorted objects from trash floating on it this is a horrific lagoon. ‘Mosquitoes, Dengue, Danger’ thoughts and worries loom large in my head.  Must call the local authority to do something about it. No one will do anything and this lagoon of stagnant water will stay next to our house for eternity.

Saba, I notice, doesn’t share any of my dark brooding thoughts and is happily chatting away with the kids as excited by the emergence of ‘the lake’ as them. ‘Shouldn’t she go back to her chores? How will she complete the dishes before her mother comes to pick her if she will stay here this long?’ Another pragmatic and slightly mean thought probes my mind with its sharp nudge. 

I can feel familiar anxiety slowly starting to creep up on my mood that becomes second nature when you start to be a full time mom and a home maker. My spirit is gradually sagging under heaviness that worries bring with them. With a herculean effort I muster up all of my will power and say to myself that I must get out of this negative mode and take notes from my kid’s unfazed happiness. After all it’s finally raining properly in Karachi, we are virtually dancing out in the rain, the weather is great and its not hot for once. Let’s just thank God for that and enjoy this moment. ‘Alhamdolilah’ I mutter softly as we all head back down to get tea and biscuits and return to take in more of the delightful weather. If only it would rain pakoras also life would be just perfect right now!