The difference between me and them
on Colm in Kenya (Kenya), 16/May/2009 08:53, 34 days ago
It’s Saturday morning and I’m gently awoken by one of the local women timidly knocking on my front door. It’s 6:45. That’s 6:45am on Saturday. There’s nothing in the world that this large woman could offer me at 6:45 on a Saturday morning that would get me out of bed. I turn over and go back to sleep.An hour later, I hear the same knock, this time a little louder. She has been waiting patiently outside my door for the past hour (perhaps knocking?), probably been wondering what an earth I would be doing between the hours of 7am and 8am on a Saturday morning.This time I get up to open the door.“What the fuck were you doing knocking on my door at 6:45am, you silly bat?” is what I want to say. I don’t and muster all the pleasentness I can at that hour to say “Jambo (Hello)”.“Lazy bollox, I’ve been waiting out here for the past bloody hour” she wants to reply. She doesn’t. “Jambo”.“Come in” I lead her to the toilet/shower room. I dissappear into my room and gather from all corners my dirty laundry. I return, drop them into her arms – I smile and go get some more. She greets the second drop with a foul glare.‘Thanks!’ I sheepishly offer, departing the scene quickly.This rotund woman (we traded names when we first met but our arrangement no longer requires either party such formalities) comes once a week to clean my clothes, charges Ksh150 and stays for about an hour where I wait in the study.After an hour of proper industry, she waddles into the study (study! That’s what I’ve decided to call it) and gently declares in a long slow breath “Ah finish”.“Oh great, thanks”“The house” she looks with distain at my dusty floor, marked with dried dirty footprints “I clean house?”“No” I respond getting to my feet “it’s ok, I’ll do that.”She looks back me in disbelief and for a dreadful second I believe she has read Avril Halley’s Book ‘Colm Halley: A history of domestic disaster’. But I’m rescued by the fact that every man here is a domestic disaster so she expects same from me.“Yes, I’ll mop and dust (and whatever else people do?) this very morning” I counter.She almost sniggers“Ah Ok” dismissing my new found bravado for cleaning as some crazy short-lived experiment.I go to my wallet, remove Ksh150 and hand it over. The smiles mark a satisfactory deal done for the week.“Have a good weekend” I offer as she departs.She looks back and sort-of smiles“Like my Saturdays and Sundays are any different from my Mondays and Tuesdays? Asshole!” is what she wants to say to me. She settles for a pleasent “Ah ok, you to”.Of course, she almost certainly doesn’t think of those things I suggested above. It’s only what I’d imagine I would want to say in her situation. That’s the difference between her (and most other Kenyans I’ve met) and me: She is a genuinely nice person, I only appear to be one!Of course she’d be a lot nicer if she didn’t knock on more door at 6:45am on Saturdays but there you go.