MEDUSA

Within the three month period since my return to Nairobi, I’ve had the unpleasant task of firing and hiring house help-five to date. It’s frustrating to no end finding reliable help and just when you think you’ve found a good match- they pull some crap that forces you to dismiss them. Are my expectations too high I wonder? Are we more/less demanding than say our mothers are? How do you strike the perfect balance between firm and fair? I don’t subscribe to the be seen (working constantly and furiously) not heard, eat in kitchen with other help, days off at Christmas only school of thought. My mother is super tough, bordering on draconian where help is concerned. One particular incident springs to mind. Njoki steals my sister’s shoes and clothes and like the blithering idiot she was, casually hangs them in her closet -enter dragon aka mother dearest, rifles through Njoki’s wardrobe, lo and behold items are discovered. Fire and Brimstone!! Dragon descends on Njoki with lightening speed and grinds her to a pulp with her bare hands. Njoki is eternally indebted to watchman for saving her life from dragon’s grip. Njoki is then sent packing but not before being threatened with jail time and salary obviously denied. Having been exposed to a different lifestyle, I wonder if I’m trying too hard to change everyone around me, instead of adjusting to life as is at home. The new-age help; how do I handle a situation such as excessive cell-phone use? Kendi for example received more phone calls than I did..Often even late into the night, the familiar ring tone- a mugithi song, followed by a ‘harro’..two seconds into which she dissolves into giggles and I’m peeved because the baby stirs and I’m then forced to do over the-on-my-back-with-a-kikoi routine to lull her back to sleep. Kendi eventually had to go, she insisted on getting Monday’s off which was virtually impossible to do, and twice on her scheduled Sunday’s off, she sent me text messages with tall stories, saying she wouldn’t be back until the next day, in effect giving herself the desired Monday off. ‘Forgive me in advance’, she said.
My view on this house help deal is that it’s a job like any other- has to be mutually beneficial for employee and employer alike. I’ve interviewed a few ladies and I’m quick to tell them that it’s a partnership that we’re in, which seems to work well, for um all of five minutes- because, enter dragon. Maids are to be paid as little as possible (at least in the beginning- salary increment based on performance, which seems fair) are not to receive favors lest they get lazy or demanding, and ideally should only go home for Christmas holiday save for extenuating circumstances e.g. family crises. Those that ask for Sundays off will inevitably steal from us and transport the goodies to their homes weekly and/or will def get preggers by neighborhood cook/watchman. The young girls from deep in the country are best because they’re basically a blank slate and will do exactly as you train them..etc etc It’s true that dragon has decades of experience where finding/keeping help is concerned, however, I’m not so sure I’m willing to sign up for dragon lessons just yet. Wambui, a friend who’s had to deal with these same issues shared her frustration and we concluded that maybe these people actually expect harsh treatment from employers. I guess they view our ‘lax’ manner of dealing with them as weakness, open to exploitation. I suppose they’re accustomed to being yelled at, worked like donkeys and then paid peanuts for the invaluable work they do. Being that they’re caring for my child, I constantly worry about the care they’re providing when I’m away from home. I imagine that if I’m kind and caring towards the help, they’ll extend the same courtesy to my baby- one can only hope.
Until the day we move out of dragon’s nest-very soon I pray, (house hunting in Nairobi is another post altogether), I’ll just have to grin and bear it. I’ve learned to steer clear of dragon when she’s giving instructions because more often than not I think the help is being overworked, unless I’m vehemently opposed to something, in which case I step in armed to battle with fire-breather! Wouldn’t it be funny if thirty years down the road my daughter were to write up a post about her dragon mother?? Lol.

In preparation for the next chapter of our lives, I’ve been purging. I’m often amazed how easily I have accumulated so much ‘junk’. Junk here includes anything from old letters, birthday cards, clothes almost four sizes small(my optimism knows no bounds),cassette tapes, Eng101 essays, shoes from another era altogether, plane ticket stubs from 1998, ticket stubs to a baseball game i went to in 1999-the only thing I remember about that game is spotting Hank Aaron and the pricey hotdog I wolfed down, Playbills(I’m keeping one from my fav show though), to maps from all U.S. cities I’ve visited and some souveniors..I know, that makes little sense because..souv=keep however, a mug with boobies from mardi gras hardly qualifies as an antique ,and that goes for the multi-colored beads too. No prizes for guessing how I got those. 😉 Kuishi kwingi kufanya kuona mengi. And I’m not even 30. ha! Oh I found a loose twenty shilling bob note- aren’t those obsolete? And a kobole- I’m surprised i didn’t write kombole, what with my rich swakuyu vocab. Like my mom’s text message last week. ” hi mama ——, muko wasima? Wasima??lol

Oh, one of the best things I found- a letter I wrote to my first ”boyfriend. Little, young, fresh-faced, naive me. A letter liberally sprinkled with words such as always and forever-Luther Vandross would be so proud. I loved him-boyfie that is, even when the sun don’t shine..lol.I wrote that. I kent brave it. I didn’t realize I have sooo many letters from my father..and they’re all mini-novels. I’m keeping the happy ones..the sad stories will hit the dumpster Monday morning. Our conversations now are a little strange, I think he’s already losing his memory-my heart breaks.

Then there’s the photographs..quite frankly there’s atleast two shoe boxes full I don’t care to keep. Dumpster! That’s what I get for having doubles printed each time..such a waste. Plus all those people I don’t care to remember in September..ha! Going through your stuff really forces you to take stock of your life..man! Living with my elder sister- minimalist-extrodinaire was really good for me, even though I complained bitterly half the time(muttering under my breath is more like it.) This girl can literally survive with a toothbrush, granola and her bible. No lies. And I hate to admit this, but I greatly admire her. My mother will need emergency quadruple bypass surgery when I-eventually– tell her that she was right, and that I really could learn alot from just watching my sister. Order. I suppose it’s never too late to start ey? Humble pie never tasted so good. No whipped cream.

So after slaving away in the heat of the garage, there’s 5 big boxes full of trash, 4 huge bags of clothes that will be donated to Salvation Army-one bag of my fav but too small clothes already found a new owner in my friend’s nanny, 1 box filled with books will go to the local library, a bunch of kitchen utensils and cookware have a new owner…I’m having a hard time letting go of my wok..arghh All those stir-fry memories.. There’s all the wood/stone carvings and batiks my mother has been sending over the years..hmm, I’m thinking I’ll send those to my kwanzaa-celebrating buddy N- I bet he or someone he knows in that hippie circle of theirs will appreciate this stuff…maybe even more than I have, evidenced by the 2yrs the stuff has spent gathering dust. There’s even a buncha-kiondo-backpac looking thingie’s..dunno how else to describe those. Where’s an office Christmas party when you need to offload some crap into the secret santa pool, ey? buh!

Feels good though.,all this purging. Wish it were just as easy to get rid of the pregger weight though..ati just throw it in a trash bag and dump. The pillowy mass that is my tummy is just sad.. Oh, I have to tell you…remember a couple of posts back when I came in here strutting my stuff, showing off ati I could fit into my pre-pregger jeans? Well you’ll never believe what happened-..I’m lugging my baby’s stroller when I feel a draught, right under my left butt cheek. A quick swipe revealed the worst..my butt had found it’s ‘voice’ and was speaking out against detention. Ok, so I’ve worn them almost everyday for 2yrs straight..that means diddly squat.who else’s butt ever did that? Can you believe that my FAVORITEST pair of jeans is ruined. Gap jeans. Taimajini.  Ok for those of you that belong to higher tax brackets..for whom gap jeans might as well be second hand, you cannot relate to my pain.

Dead- is where I want to be.

I cannot possibly justify buying a $50 pair of jeans right now when diapers and formula are in such high demand- it’s just not right. It’s too bad I’m not 17 and anyway the threadbare denim look is sooo out- was it ever really in, or was it all just hobo-envy,ha.. So anyway, that’s what I want for Christmas this year..another perfect pair of jeans(the holy grail), with just the right amount of stretch to accomodate the boodie.

Lastly, for my sake, for my emotional well-being, I need to simply walk away from this parasitic relationship. I have nothing left to give, not to you, not anymore. Delete.

Little Miss Sunshine..

7things you don’t know about her..
1. She has one dimple, on her left cheek.
2. She loves her baths..especially when her hair is brushed.
3. She’s a night owl..most alert at 1am and 3am..
4. She doesn’t like her little bottom exposed at all, diaper changing is quite a challenge.
5. She doesn’t seem to like her bassinet, she much prefers her mom’s bed..
6. She really enjoys being swaddled and cuddled..
7. She’s calm and peaceful..and she loves kisses.