Maid

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