21 Jan 2009
The other day, it was super hot and I was out of water but couldn't bring myself to climb the mini-mountain in order to cart water for myself, and that same day realized that even my clean clothes were still dirty because I am just no good at the whole wash your clothes by hand in a bucket thing. I mean the Mozambican women just get your whites whiter. So I made the call.
I have hired an embregada. She is a sweet woman with two young kids, that comes twice a week to cart water for me and wash my clothes. And, at this moment, she makes me feel like a horrible person.
I am not alone in employing domestic help. In fact I would say that the majority of PCV’s here in the Moz have embregadas. As foreigners we are sort of expected to have an embregada – I have had at least four people come to my house to offer their services. I also look at it as supporting a family in my community, getting an in to local gossip, and something that will allow me to be a more committed teacher.
When I carted water for myself, I never could make more than three trips up that ghastly hill. Once I managed to carry two buckets, waited an hour and did two more. So despite my rationalizations, as I sat on my porch today while Dorcia balanced bucket after bucket on her head – she carted something like 7 in all – I was astounded by/jealous of her strength and consumed by middle-class American guilt.
No comments:
Post a Comment