Maid of honour

Every once a while, there will be a post on maids. Or you will here juicy gossips during your evening soirees about how impertinent they are.. how gormless they are.. how ‘hiao’ they are.. And I wonder, why bother to have them? Of course, I am at liberty to say that because I am a housewife. So, it really isn’t my utmost priority to consider what other options there are.

I am a bit like Hermione who advocates rights for house-elves. In our world, they are more commonly known as ‘maids’, of course. Not that I don’t shiver in fear or shake my head in disgust when I hear stories about them abusing children, or them seducing, charming husbands. I am appalled and therefore I will not consider them my solution to my household problems, should there be any.

We used to have a distant aunt who stayed with us when I was younger. She cooked and cleaned the house. But I had my equal share of house chores, like mopping the floor. When she left, we had Indonesian maids, some live-in, others part-time. So, yes, we had always had the privilege to have helpers around the house.

One ran away with a laborer, which is common. But we didn’t label the next as a prospect adulterer. Another stole money, and yet again, we didn’t conclude that all maids are born thieves. We treated each and every one of them as individuals. If it’s not too much, we treat them with respect.

“Kak, nanti tolong cucikan baju ni, ye?” Requests as such always end with a humble ‘terima kasih.’

Ellen used to work for a very close friend’s family. Everytime I was there for a ‘wallop’ of food, she was invited to join us at the table.

“Ellen, come eat,” my friend’s father would say. For the longest time, I thought Ellen was a professional nurse, hired to take care of the ailing grandmother. Thus, the equal ‘right’ to sit at the same dining table (Our maids used to makan with us, too, but it is a very uncommon practice.) Only after Ellen had left after many many years that I realized that she was a maid. Or some would say, ‘just’ a maid.

At the other spectrum, I have heard, of an individual who suffers from paralysis once a maid is available.

A simple task of rinsing a cup has become the maid’s ‘duty’.

At the threshold of her apartment, the maid fetches her shoes and parks them in front of her soles before leaving. I am surprised ‘Cinderella’ doesn’t ask the glass slippers to be slipped on.

Watching the maid stoop lower makes me uncomfortable. She is afterall, human too, right? Why is she being treated like a sub-species of the human race? I think some people mistaken the identity of maids with slaves?

These are the people who are not even of royal descendants. They merely receive bigger paychecks which entitled them to hired helps. They are millions of them. I mean I can understand if the Presidents, CEOs and whatnots have no time to arrange their underwears, and even so, it doesn't mean they can be a pompous ass with arrogance and pride the size of the African map.

From the way these people exhibit superiority, I wonder if the next generation will think they are kings and queens, princes and princesses? I wonder by then, if robots would be available, because isn’t it too assuming that maids from the poorer countries will be as affordable in future?

Come on, when the kids grow up, they will be like the millions others, waking up to go to work, earn sufficiently for a house and car and meals? Who will wash their underwears then?

Sure, the parents would still have money to send to them so that they can have slaves, I mean, maids of their own. But that is.. so lack of character. What is the point of existence when you cannot function on your own?

My unorthodox thinking is ominous. I have been warned, threat them nice, and they feed you with urine. And yet, I refuse to give a universal conviction to all of them. I know it’s my weakness and therefore, the only maid you will see in my house will be me.

With a feather duster and French maid uniform. Ohh la la~