This year’s Ramadhan eve brought to a peak a nostalgia that had been welting in me since last November after Umi, our housemaid since 1987, called from her village in Surabaya telling me of the unlikelihood of her returning to work in our home for another year to save up for her retirement, an intention that she had expressed earlier. Her four children were persuading her to retire as they could already support her. Pride and excitement clearly reflected in her voice as she spoke of them. She had sent all her earnings home to pay for their education in private residential schools and the best universities in Indonesia from where they have all graduated.
How happy she must be now reunited with her children and extended family in Surabaya. All the years that she was missing them, Umi took care of my own children, protected and pampered them. She has become an indelible part of their childhood and teenage years. She often talked about her children and I only finally understood her feelings when my own eldest son left home to study in Australia a few years ago.
She was beside me at every school sports, concert, band competition, speech day and staff family day. The family albums save her plump figure and soft face at every birthday party and open house, smiling amidst party hats and messy plates. She insisted on home made delicacies for the birthday parties and even mastered my own secret recipe versions for making lasagne and honey chicken. She knew which brands of spaghetti made the best pasta and which cheeses were best for burgers or salads. And I could not have made much contribution to the raya food fare at mum’s without her help. To think that she did not even know how to fry fish or use coconut milk in curries when she first came 18 years ago. Above her keenness to learn new things was her dedication to the children’s palate. Nothing pleased her more than seeing one of the kids going for a second or third helping.
She was quick to inform me when any of the children was unwell, paying particular attention to my asthma-prone son and was more efficient than me at packing stuffs for hospital admissions. She would urge us to go to the doctors when befallen ill while she herself would nonchalantly resort to her tiger balm ointment for all ailments from toothache to fever. .
Umi used to take a 2-month holiday once every 2 or 3 years, and it was during these periods that I realized how trivial my irritations were at her like, her clumsy piling of dishes in the rack and awkward mix of serving spoons. Even her television addiction did not seem so bad, at least it kept her from gossiping with the neighbours.. And I got glimpses of the most talked about shows and could keep up with the latest funnies in commercials. Yes, she watched Oprah and Friends, laughing in time with the studio audience. Besides being able to update me on who was leading on Akademi Fantasia or the world badminton circuit, she was always punctual for prime news, scanned most pages of Berita Harian and Metro and could discuss world politics with my sons. She was definitely more informed than I was and I sometimes wondered what she would have been if given more opportunities at formal education earlier. The Cantonese soaps probably diffused any PMS or homesickness too as she was hardly ever moody.
How could I complain? She woke up at 5am every morning. Immediately after her subuh prayers, she packed school snacks, did laundry, threw garbage, cleaned kitchen after our night raids, watered plants and tidied porch, etc., allowing me to linger upstairs. Life would be a buzz by the time I came down and I could have my cuppa in a clean kitchen before proceeding for a walk or to my computer. After telling her what to get from the fish monger and the menu for the day, I could dress happily for my appointments or sit at my computer till the sun came down again. Umi rested in between chores and she certainly deserved the couch during those times.
Umi made it possible for me to work long and irregular hours, attend to emails and calls promptly, complete assignments ahead of schedule and move on to more demanding jobs three times in 20 years without worrying about the sacrifice to my family as she was always there to hold the forte. She was empowered to check and nag, be it homework, tuition, music or Quran classes and was quite sharp with her reports. Colleagues envy my dedication, clients respect my efficiency.
I could take my own alone time to destress without much fuss and remain the perfectly cool mum my children are proud of. My family had better quality food as I had more time to plan meals, picking up healthy stuffs at the grocer’s and only had to tell her how to prepare them. Now they are no more healthy by the time I get around to cooking them or they just land in the garbage bin.
Taking up Umi’s routine has altered my life and consciousness in many ways. The heavy duty chores have made me more tolerant of moss, grease and smells. The weather is most important to me now as the clothes had to dry and the rain is so welcome too to spare me a round of watering the plants. It is nice to smile back at the garbage man who waits for my late bag and to chat with the housewives and maids at the fish monger’s van. They look so relaxed and I envy them as I have to rush to get down to my ‘office’ work. I have not played tennis for a year, not only because I cannot keep up with the group’s schedule any more, but also because my body feels too wearied by late afternoon for any exercise except for the stationery bike on which I can catch up with the day’s papers. No wonder Umi slept like a log every night….
The dawn is my first rush hour now and by the time I get to sit down for my cuppa, I am so exhausted with a million things racing in my mind, especially on days when the part-time maid is off. Little do my clients suspect that while taking their early calls nowadays, I sometimes have one hand in the cats’ litter box or holding the broom.
I was depressed for many months and even now I get the saddest feeling when I come down in the mornings to a gloomy living room carrying the full laundry basket. I miss the sound of Umi drawing the curtains and pulling back the glass doors to usher the early morning light in. For a long time I did not switch on the television at all. The cats probably knew as I fed them silently and ignored their pranks. Only my work and deadlines kept me focused. I had always thought she made brats of my kids especially the youngest one, but I realize now that it was me she pampered the most.
Umi came to work in Malaysia to provide her children with the best education possible and I hired her to enable me to do the same thing – we were two hearts with one mission. But little did I know then that the humble village woman would play a central role in shaping my family. For while cleaning and cooking, this surrogate mother brought love and emotional stability into our home which was often topsy-turvy perhaps, but cheerful. She tended to each child throughout her waking hours, giving them the kind of care and attention that a working mother would not have time to give. She laughed with them and cried for them, took interest in their grades, their little adventures and their friends who came by often. I know my children had a happy childhood, they say so in many ways. They understood why I was not always at home, and we remained very close through quality time together and they appreciated the little indulgences I could buy. Looking back now, Umi and I were like a set of parents in the frequent absence of my dinner-wheeling, globe-trotting corporate spouse.
Umi received a lot of education and new experiences in our home too, from which she has emerged to be quite a confident and well-spoken person. Why, she can even understand our exchanges in English sometimes! She is envied by her village folks for her children’s achievements and the fancy new extension to the family home that she has built and is now living in with all her children while her husband continues to work in Malaysia. While their lost years will be made up for as they continue to live in the extended family way, my children are leaving the nest and I am not sure whether they will come back to live near enough to us...
Dear Umi, I miss your big voice feigning irritation at the kids’ orders for ‘milo ice’ and your gentle voice reciting the Quran especially during Ramadhan. I miss putting in new plants in the pots with you, laughing at Chef Wan and discussing ‘cerita-cerita nabi’ in the kitchen. The children miss you a lot too. Well, perhaps we’ve completed our sacred contract that ends at the brink of our second adulthood, a period that we are not destined to journey together. You have truly been one of Allah’s blessings to us and I hope you do not have any regrets either for those 18 years with us. Goodbye Umi, my house manager, my friend and sister, ‘the wind beneath my wings’..thank you. We will surely meet again as we promised when you left, at our children’s weddings perhaps?
In my last article, I described myself as a home-maker first, then professional career woman, shocking my closest friends. Well, that’s what I felt then being in the thick of housework after Umi left on 17th October 2004. I have to admit that while I can pat my own back (though I can never manage time like Umi did), I think my heart will last out longer if I engage myself with more ‘brain work’ instead. I wonder whether I will find another kindred spirit in the lady from Medan who I am picking up at Port Klang tomorrow….
2005
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