This isn't a happy post. So look away if you must.
I was brought up in an
environment where housemaids were common in the household. Their task was to provide support to the
family they reside with. That includes
cleaning the household, washing the dishes, and all the medial things a chore
can be, for a fee. They’re usually
females, coming from an impoverished background of Malaysia’s neighboring
countries, aiming to seek a living or supporting their family back home.
I’ve grown up seeing a handful of
maids come and go. I can’t recall their
names anymore, but they would do your every bidding, like a family servant. And as a kid, ethical and moral rights didn’t
come into thought as for how I was treating my kakak (older sister, commonly used to address the maid). I recalled ordering one particular maid to
redo my cereal bowl if I felt it was dissatisfactory.
I was six then. Little did I know how offensive and
disgusting I think of that action to this day.
It’s been six years since my
family has had a maid. My parents made my
siblings and I work to maintain the house, to do chores and the occasional errand
around the neighborhood. Currently, only
my grandmother has a maid to attend to her very needs. Approaching her seventies, and being almost
completely reliant on my grandfather, she’s in a precarious phase in life where
she is physically inept to do most chores, due to joint aches. After my grandfather passed away a few years
ago, my grandmother needed supportive care more than ever.
My parents have tried their
hardest to convince my grandmother to move in with us, so that we can watch
over her. However, she was born and
raised in her hometown of Seremban in Negeri Sembilan. She was not willing to leave that behind.
Her current maid, Yadun, hails
from Indonesia. She is tiny of a person,
shying a few centimeters from my grandmother’s diminutive 5-foot figure, and
looks to be in her mid-twenties (I never asked). She has served multiple Chinese-speaking
families in the past. Partly because of
that, Grandmother would insist that she understands Mandarin (although my
parents and I have caught Yadun looking clueless on countless occasions). This week, my grandmother and Yadun had paid
us a visit, as we were having a celebratory dinner in conjunction with my
mother’s birthday and mine.
This morning, Yadun was wiping
down a table when Grandmother (again, in Mandarin) ordered her to use the white
rag for wiping. I spoke out, saying that
perhaps conversing to her in the more familiar Malay language would be better. Grandmother waived it off again. Obviously, Yadun didn’t understand what my
grandmother had motioned to, with her characteristic confused look apparent
again. She came back holding a pink rag
instead.
Grandmother grew upset, and
started raising her voice at the maid, perhaps because I had earlier challenged
her. Now conversing in Malay, Grandmother
yelled at Yadun: “I said to grab the white rag!
Were you not listening earlier?”
Yadun was startled. “I didn’t know what you were referring to, ma’am.”
Her voice was shaking as her body shrunk.
I intervened: “Grandmother,
clearly she doesn’t understand Mandarin.
Just speak to her in Malay, please.
No need to get upset and all”.
Yadun was clearly unhappy at Grandmother’s treatment.
Grandmother then turned towards
me, her eyes showing surprise laced with anger.
“Fang Hao, this rascal is just play-acting. She obviously knows what I was referring to. Even her agent claims that she has worked
with many Chinese-speaking clients in the past.”
Yadun was clearly crestfallen, as
she resumed her cleaning, trying to hold back her sobs.
“No, the maid obviously isn’t
lying. She said it herself that she
doesn’t understand Chinese! Even though
one would have worked with Chinese speakers, that doesn’t mean that person
would know the language.” I grew more
animated as I raised my voice. I resisted the urge to stand up from my seated position.
“Look. I’ve dealt with these people more often than
you have. She’s bad-hearted and
manipulative. There’s no two ways about
it.” Grandmother lowered her tone,
trying to gain control of the conversation.
She was visibly upset.
I had nothing left to say, so I
quickly finished my sandwich, and returned to my room. I needed to be alone.
My grandmother has always claimed
that the maids assigned to her were inadequate, in one form or the other. I used to think that it was just their
ineptitude that they were replaced eventually.
Now it was clear that Grandmother was just being mean towards them.
After today’s incident, I
realized that my grandmother acts as though she stands higher on the social hierarchy
than others. She commonly looks down on
people not as well-off as herself, and that includes those who serve her,
sometimes even her siblings (and that’s scary).
Do not mistake me for hating my grandmother. Towards her family, she’s usually great. Unfortunately, that’s as far as her good side
goes.
I guess that brings to light a
bigger problem in Malaysia’s society.
Some Malaysian tendencies include putting others down to make themselves
feel superior, and that’s just downright wrong.
It’s crazy to think that we’re so linear in thought that we fail to see
the opposite approach of empowering others makes everyone perform and feel better.
My grandmother represents the
embodiment of olden-day beliefs and the ineptitude to change with the
times. She symbolizes the harshness of
falling below the pecking order of society and remaining at that rung for the
remainder of your life. She exhibits the
ignorance and bigotry that has plagued Malaysia, and many nations (be it third
world, or otherwise) that I am passionately against.
In that regard, I don’t want to
be my grandmother.
Take Me Out - Golden State
