The madams are missing their maids

I’ve just returned from Australia. We met expats for coffee and the men chatted work while the women chatted domestic issues. “How are you girls coping?” I asked. “Ag it’s lonely, you know. We all miss our mothers. And our maids.”

Well, of course. Yet, it seems that the mom/ daughter and madam/maid relationships are vital to South African women’s emotional stability. Washing machines and cleaning services don’t do the trick. Most moms can visit (all in their seventies and braving the long trip and the 40 degree summer) but what about the missing maids? A friend leaned forward, whispering: “We miss them — their friendship, it’s probably the companionship”. She became tearful, “you know what I mean.” Yes, I do.

There’s something unique about South African madams and maids. There’s a bond that’s akin to mother-daughter or sisterhood. “You mustn’t worry, madam. The world’s gone crazy!” my maid would counsel. “When you do what’s right, you’re wrong, when do what’s wrong, then the world loves you. Don’t stress madam, you will go mad.” Kitchen counselling. I would air and share and she would rant while swishing her dishtowel. “Jesus is coming soon. He sees and knows everything. Don’t stress. Just look straight and do what’s right!”

This has been my therapy for 11 years. My personal stylist (”madam, change your pants-your bottom looks big in them”), my psychiatrist (”hey, my madam looks so young today!”). I challenged her. “Really? Or do you just want an increase?” Hoots of laughter. Women who are privy to emotional weak spots are able to flatter with great success.

Dressmaker, hem stitcher, cheerleader. Encourager to my children. The heart of a mother. My second mother. Death in the family produced instant tears and hugs. She knew, she understood. Woman in close proximity sense each other’s agonies, hurts and heartaches. It’s very difficult to re-establish relationships like that.

Like most things, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Thanks for the wonderful friendship and your caring spirit, Lulama. You are one in a million. I miss you.