A Yellow House

by Karien van Ditzhuijzen

  I thought of my own irrational jealousy of Nurul.

  Mama said, ‘I know that things have been bad at home lately. But that’s going to change. When Dad was away this week, he went to see his boss in England. He’s made some changes to his job. He’s going to be home more and travel less. And I’m going to try not to worry as much about work too. Things will be better. Less shouting. I promise.’

  So no moving to England? I felt relieved.

  ‘You know, Aunty M’s life is difficult, more so than ours, and still she is strong. I need to learn from someone like her, not feel threatened by her. But she runs our home like, like I never could, and what does she do in her spare time? Help others. It’s not easy to take in. But I honestly think we’re very lucky to have her. You like her, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘So stop worrying, I won’t fire her. As long as she does her work well, she can do what she likes in her spare time.’

  ‘Thanks Mama. I’m happy Nurul can get her yellow house.’

  ‘Her yellow house?’ Mama asked.

  ‘Aunty M is building her and Adi a house to live in, so they won’t have to live in a bamboo hut anymore. She’s using her salary to start building this year. It was Nurul’s fantasy to have it painted yellow.’

  ‘That’s so sweet. I’m glad that we can give her the opportunity to build that.’

  I smiled invisibly in the half dark. ‘She told me she’ll start building when she goes home this summer,’ I said.

  But I had one more thing on my mind. ‘But Mama, I want to know. Would you build me a yellow house? One with a garden and swings?’

  Mama laughed. ‘What do you mean? We have a house. We live in a luxury condo we own, not a bamboo hut. Why do you need a yellow one?’

  How could I even begin to explain? That a condo wasn’t a house, that I wanted one like the Blue House that PoPo had had, with a garden and lotus pond and barking frogs, a house that make you feel special, not one where you were stacked in a pile with so many others just like you. A garden with its own swing where you could always feel safe because it was yours, even if it had monkeys stealing your toothpaste.

  Mama said, ‘I do want to give you everything, but it needs to be reasonable. You do realise that with five million people on a tiny island, not everyone can have a house with a garden? Singapore isn’t Java.’

  I thought about that for a while until I realised that I didn’t actually need all of that, I just wanted Mama to want to give it to me, if that was what I wanted most. She had to love me for who I was, so I could love me too. I tried to say that, but it was too complex so I said, ‘I know, I don’t want a house. I want my mother to build me something.’

  Mama was quiet for a while, and I was scared that I’d made her sad.

  ‘Do you think that? Do you think I don’t care, that I don’t want to give you what you need?’

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

  Mama went on. ‘I loved it when we had our talks, about feminism, about these impressive women, like Kartini, Ah Feng. Hell, I would even discuss Mother Teresa with you happily. I loved it when you were interested in those things, and I knew I was doing something right. They are role models. That’s what I want to give you. That’s what I want to be to you.’

  I crawled onto her lap and we sat there. ‘We need to talk more about these things. About the important things. Make time for it. But now you need to sleep. School tomorrow. That’s the most important thing I will give you: an education.’

  She started to lay me back in bed. ‘It was a very good story, dear. Let’s agree on a happy ending. The stepmother was not so evil after all, and the queen worked happily ever after.’

  She hugged me.

  For a few seconds, I was tempted to leave it at that. But that ending was too easy. Not real.

  ‘Mama?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, honey?’

  ‘Actually, there’s more.’

  ‘More? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, the stepmother had a daughter, and she, well, me, helped.’

  ‘Helped what?’

  ‘She, I, helped Aunty M with the helping. Helping the helpers.’

  Mama’s eyes turned big in the half-light of the room. ‘What do you mean?’

  I told her everything. How we had first helped Sri, how after that, we went out on afternoons after school, how I had taught Win English, how we hosted our own little helpdesk in the playground. How Cat and I had eavesdropped at the food court. And, finally, how we had called MOM to report Jenny. It felt like a zit being squeezed; it hurt, but the messy stuff was pouring out and I felt that it would be ok after. Mama would kiss me and we would live happily ever after. After all, she’d said she loved the role models doing good, and now I could be one too, with her help.

  But that ending was too easy too.

  ‘What do you mean, you went out with Aunty M on school afternoons, to see other domestic workers in trouble? What about your schoolwork? And what on earth makes you think it is a good idea to report your own schoolmate to MOM?’

  I cringed.

  Mama cried out, ‘Maya, you can’t do these things without telling us. You’re only ten. These things, they are complicated, grownup! Do you even understand them? And Aunty M let this happen without telling me? I need to discuss this with your father.’

  And all the worry poured back in.

  Mama said, ‘You go to sleep. We’ll speak in the morning.’

  I lay down and she kissed me curtly on the forehead. Before she closed the door, I asked in a little voice, ‘Mama?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Promise you won’t fire Aunty M. Please?’

  Mama grunted. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’

  I was so exhausted I fell asleep straight away. When I woke up I felt refreshed. Then the hammer hit me.

  I wanted to roll back into the cocoon, but getting out of the house to school seemed safer. Even if that meant facing Jenny and my guilt.

  It would be so wrong, so cynical, if Aunty M got fired after helping all those people. I asked myself if it would have been worth it, to sacrifice one for the others, but I had no answer. I kicked myself for letting her in so deep, for not listening to myself when she first arrived, when I had promised not to let her into my heart. It was too late now. She’d leave me, and it would be my own fault.

  Reluctantly, I went to the kitchen. Mama and Dad were already at the table, eating breakfast calmly. Chloe was eating dry cereal straight from the table top. I realised it was Saturday. Mama had been wrong, no school today. They didn’t look angry.

  ‘Good morning,’ Dad said. ‘Toast or cereal?’

  ‘Marmite toast, please,’ I said, and sat down.

  They chatted again about the summer plans again, as if I wasn’t sitting there, my heart in my mouth.

  ‘Mama,’ I started. ‘About last night…’

  Dad answered. ‘You know, Maya, we are deeply disappointed in you. We’re still debating your punishment, but for starters, you’re grounded on school afternoons. You don’t go anywhere without our specific permission. Not even to go see Cat.’

  I cringed. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll stop. But please…’

  Dad interrupted. ‘How could you not tell us something like that? This is government business. You calling MOM like that, do you realise you could get me in trouble? What if they kick me out of the country for something you do? Have you thought about that?’

  I hadn’t.

  ‘That you want to help people is nice, but you need to be careful. If you were worried about Jenny and her helper, you should have told us. We could have gone and talked to her parents,’ Mama continued. ‘After breakfast, you will sit down, and tell us everything, every detail. We need to sort out this mess.’

  ‘I wasn’t alone,’ I started; but all I could think of was Aunty M. ‘I’ll tell you, but please, tell me, you won’t fire her, will you?’

  ‘Who? Aunty M?’

  Mama was quiet a
while, and she looked at Dad, who nodded. ‘It’s a trust issue. If she knew about all of this and didn’t tell me, I don’t know if I can trust her anymore.’

  My heartbeat thudded in my throat. ‘She didn’t know about calling MOM. It was Cat’s idea. I lied to Aunty M. She told me not to do it.’

  Dad said, ‘Yes, we’ll need to speak to Cat’s parents too. You understand that, don’t you? But Aunty M, she took you out to see maids in distress, didn’t she? And neither she nor you told us.’

  ‘You were away,’ I blurted out. ‘And Mama was at work.’

  They looked at each other. They looked mad, and unsure at whom.

  Chloe cried, and threw her cup to the floor. Mama looked annoyed, and sprinkled more cereal on the table in front of her. She left the cup on the floor. Dad still said nothing, but looked the other way.

  Mama was the first to speak. ‘We know. We should have seen this coming. But I thought things were better. You seemed so happy lately, with Cat, and well… It’s our fault too. I told you last night, we’ll make some changes. All of us. We’ll eat together every evening, and talk about our days. And tell each other everything.’

  She looked at me pointedly. ‘Okay,’ I nodded. ‘But what about Aunty M?’

  ‘We still need to decide,’ Mama said. ‘To be honest, I can’t imagine life without her anymore, and who knows what kind of replacement we’d get, but she knows she’s on probation. She can only continue the helpdesk work in her spare time, on Sundays. Some phone calls during the week, fine, or some playground advice, but that’s it. We’ve made it clear she needs to open up more, especially where you girls are concerned. She likes to sit in that clam of hers, and doesn’t open up until you boil her. She’ll need to win my trust again.’

  ‘Does that mean…’ I stammered.

  Mama said, ‘I don’t want to do anything rash.’

  I sighed in relief. ‘So she can stay?’

  Mama looked at Dad, who shrugged. ‘Well, yes. But no more secrets,’ Dad said.

  I felt like a weight had been lifted off my head. I was ready for my punishment now.

  ‘So what about me? I’ll stop. Don’t worry.’

  Mama looked at Dad again. She said, ‘We don’t mind you teaching someone English, going to celebrations like the Kartini one. But being a helpdesk? You’re too young. You have schoolwork. For now, you stay in in the afternoon, and need permission from Dad or me when you want to do something else. We’ll be home more too, to check on you. If you feel the urge to help someone in distress, you come to us, and we’ll do it together.’

  Dad nodded. His phone rang. He looked at the screen, but shoved it back into his pocket.

  45

  After breakfast I brought out my notebook. Together, we went through all the cases, and I told them what had happened to Sri, Bella, Julia, just as I’d told Aunty Tan before. Like Aunty Tan, Mama and Dad were full of questions, and I felt proud and smart that I was able to answer most of them. I explained deductions, transfer papers, and the MOM regulations. I told them about Win and how she’d disappeared one day, and about Nee Nee, who chose to stay. I told them about Khusnul, who’d admitted to her employers that she had slapped the child, just once, and who’d been given a second chance.

  Looking at all those notes, seeing the names written down and remembering the unwritten ones like Cat and Aunty Tan, I felt rich. Even if I lost Aunty M now, if she chose not to take her second chance, and even if I never saw any of the other aunties again, I could never lose the memories they’d given me, any more than I could lose those of PoPo. I was secretly glad my parents hadn’t known from the start; they would only have allowed the boring parts. It might be wrong to do the right thing sometimes, but that didn’t make it less important.

  The only story I left out was Ronalyn’s. There were no notes of that in my notebook. It was something I’d have to figure out on my own, when I was older.

  When I’d told them everything – the food court conversations, the MOM procedures, the police investigations, and even about Aunty Tan, who’d been the one who told me to tell them the truth – I looked at Mama. Could Aunty Tan have been right? Proud was too strong a word for the look in her eyes, but she seemed pleased. But still she didn’t say anything.

  Dad’s reaction was simpler. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Wow. You’re quite something. Did you do all of this, with Aunty M?’

  ‘And Cat,’ I added.

  ‘I had no idea. It’s really fascinating, and you guys have been so thorough. I mean, my God, you’re ten! If you only applied yourself like this at school, you’d be a star student. Did you know this?’ he said, looking at Mama, ‘These rules, these women being exploited? That they can’t quit? I always figured that they could just quit if they didn’t like it. And that they were happy that things were at least better than they were used to.’

  Mama sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘It isn’t really,’ I said. ‘Why can’t they just get the right to quit and transfer?’

  ‘You need to look at it from the employers’ perspective too,’ Mama said. ‘You talk about the deductions, but the employers pay the agency as well. Quite a lot. So if all the helpers kept changing jobs, it would be very expensive for the employer. Every time someone transfers, the agency makes money.’

  ‘We should start an agency,’ I said. ‘We’d be rich!’

  We all laughed.

  ‘And it’s not just the money, you invest other things too. You train a helper, get attached to her, and your kids do too. So the employers need some protection. I’ve heard of many situations where helpers were insolent, lazy, or just wanted to change employers on a whim. Some are stupid. They’ll always feel that the grass is greener somewhere else. It’s not only the employers that can be bad, you know. There are bad helpers too.’

  I supposed she was right. Something still felt wrong, though, and I tried to put my finger on it. I wondered out loud: ‘But if the domestic worker is stupid, or lazy, the employer can fire her, can’t she? Or go to the police if she steals?’

  Mama nodded.

  ‘So aren’t they protected enough?’

  Mama shrugged, and said nothing, so I went on.

  ‘Why should rules be different for domestic workers?’

  Mama thought for a while. She said, a bit snappily, ‘Because they’re different. I don’t know Maya. I need to think about this.’

  Dad laughed. ‘I think Maya has some interesting points. You’re just like your mother when she was younger. I think, in the last few years, Mama’s perspective just changed a bit. Spending too much time with her friend Cynthia, and in the big, bad world of finance will do that to a person. Maybe you can rekindle the old idealist spark in your mother.’ He winked at Mama, who looked indignant.

  Dad continued: ‘It’s ironic that a child needs to point out these things to us. All of us in Singapore are too serious. The government here has always been protective of its people. That was understandable when it was a fledgling nation, with race riots and poverty. But isn’t it time to realise that, like our Maya here, the country has grown up? I’m thinking we should give Maya some freedom to pursue these things and we might be amazed where she leads us. Overprotective parents, however well meaning, raise unimaginative, irresponsible children who are afraid to take risks.’

  Mama looked at him with a puzzled expression, and I was too stunned to say anything. Did he just say I should continue with the helpdesk?

  ‘But what does all of that have to do with domestic workers?’ Mama asked.

  Dad shrugged. ‘This country needs to grow up when it comes to humanity. They only need to look at their own history. Exploiting others, migrants from poor countries, to become rich, is exactly what the colonials did. Yes, my people too, you don’t need to point it out. But this is the twenty-first century. Haven’t we learned from the past?’

  Mama grinned with one side of her mouth. ‘You’re picturing the government as this tiger mom, fiercely protecting its pups at the expe
nse of others,’ she said. ‘The thing is, those tiger moms raise highly successful children. Not always happy maybe, but successful. The question is, which is the more important?’

  Dad looked at me, and I felt he would give the same answer I would. We said nothing, as Mama needed to find her own answer. She went on, ‘I know this country of ours is a complicated one. It’s the cleanest and safest in the world, has top ranking schools and hospitals. Everybody can and will read everything online, and still the government wants to protect us – but from what? Ourselves? The weird thing is most of us like it when they do that. I guess I gave up fighting it.’

  She looked at me directly and said, ‘Your dad is right. That doesn’t mean you should.’

  I wanted to say something, but before I could get my thoughts straight, Mama spoke again. ‘Singaporeans are so stubbornly conservative on social issues. I don’t think we understand why ourselves. Is it to protect what we’ve achieved?’

  This discussion was becoming more complex, and I wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

  Dad spoke instead. ‘Now you’re the one straying from the subject of domestic workers. How do they tie into your branch of feminism?’

  Mama said, ‘Domestic workers allow mothers like me to work outside of the home, which is essential to the growth of the country.’

  We were back at Mama’s favourite subject, one that I could relate to now. I was glad that I’d done what I had: the eavesdropping research, the helpdesk, the busy bodying. Yes, we’d taken risks, gambled with other people’s jobs – calling MOM about Moe Moe was perhaps a step too far. But if you never took any risks, you would never change things. The final penny dropped: what would have become of me if I’d never taken the risk of letting Aunty M in?

  The thought emboldened me, and I cleared my throat to pitch in. ‘But I don’t think the aunties shouldn’t be here. They’re also important to their own countries. They bring in money to start businesses, and to send their children to school. I just want them to be treated better.’