Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “Don’t get too emotionally involved, or it will break your heart,” counselled Diana. “There are thousands of Angelinas in this country alone, and this is only one small country on a very large continent.”

  “It’s just so different seeing this in real life,” said Amie. “We see stuff on TV, but it’s not the same at all. When you meet the poor face to face and see the suffering for yourself, it makes it very real.”

  “There is a lot of real suffering here,” Diana replied, “but remember, Angelina is one of the lucky ones. She gets fed, and there is a chance of her getting at least some sort of a basic education.”

  “She’s one of the lucky ones?” Amie exclaimed. “Surely her chances of ever getting out of the poverty trap are very limited.”

  “That’s true,” agreed her new friend, “and with the national life expectancy in Togodo of thirty to forty years, she may not have too many years to look forward to, poor little scrap. But I can’t say it too strongly Amie, don’t get involved, there is very little you can do to change the future for these children. Come with us by all means a couple of times a week to help the teachers and pass on ideas and so on. You can’t take every child out of this environment, and that is not necessarily the right thing to do either. This is their country, their culture and their way of life. Yes, they are poor, yes, many go hungry, but if we interfere too much, we only impose our way of life on them, and that might not be for the best in the long run. Don’t get emotionally involved. You’ll only end up breaking your own heart.”

  Although Amie didn’t realise it, it was good advice, but she had a sneaking feeling it was advice she wasn’t going to follow. If only she had!

  4 PRETTY, TICKS AND ANGELINA

  The next few days were hectic. Jonathon remembered to phone the landlords and he and Amie went around to look at the three houses for rent. They were astonished at the size of them. They all had two or three lounges, one of which was referred to as the family room. There was also a dining room, three or four en-suite bedrooms, plus at least one extra bathroom for visitors, and each property was surrounded by large gardens containing a swimming pool. In every back yard there was a separate building which they understood was the maid’s quarters. The houses were furnished; basic furniture to be sure, nothing that would feature in House and Home, but the chairs, beds and tables were quite adequate for day-to-day living.

  After looking at all three, they decided on one in Spring Glen, as it was the smallest of the three and less expensive. They both agreed they would rattle around in the larger houses, and secretly, Amie thought they would rattle around in this one too. She couldn’t wait to tell her family about the house, maid’s quarters and swimming pool! Arrangements were made for Jonathon to sign the lease and they could move in as soon as they liked.

  Amie was really fed up living in the hotel. There were problems with the laundry, every bundle returned was short of several items, and although she complained bitterly to the management who were very apologetic, nothing ever came of it, and stuff continued to disappear.

  The menu in the restaurant never varied and both of them were sick of burgers, omelettes, steaks and toasted sandwiches. Amie breathed a sigh of relief when a few days later they repacked their suitcases and moved out of the hotel.

  An inventory in the new house revealed no vacuum cleaner, no washing machine, no kettle and no toaster.

  “It wouldn’t be wise to let your maid loose with too many electrical appliances,” remarked Diana, who had come over for a visit and to have a look at the house. “She will do all your washing in the bath, and clean the floors by hand with a cloth and a bucket of water. Even if you buy her a mop or a squeegee, she will still get down on her hands and knees to wash and polish the floors.”

  “Do I have to have a maid?” asked Amie. The thought of letting someone else do all the housework was a bit daunting. She had no idea how to handle a servant.

  “Oh yes. It’s expected. Most people will think it very odd if you don’t, and you might as well enjoy one of the perks of living in a country where there are very limited resources.”

  “But where do I find one?” asked Amie.

  “They find you, my dear. Just look out of the window.”

  Amie pulled aside the net curtain. A large crowd of women had gathered at the bottom of the driveway, some standing, others sitting on the edge of the road. Most of them were chattering loudly, reminding Amie of a large flock of colourful birds.

  “Who are all those people?”

  “Prospective maids. They’re all hoping you’ll employ them,” Diana replied. “Word travels fast here, and already news is out a new white madam has moved in. It will be difficult to choose, but try to employ someone who’s worked for a family before, though that’s difficult to judge because they will lie about it. Oh, and only take on a girl who can speak at least a little bit of English.”

  “What about references?”

  “I’ve tried to give some of my departing maids a letter of recommendation, but they don’t see the point in them,” Diana replied.

  “You’ve had several maids?” asked Amie.

  “Goodness, yes. It usually takes a while to find the right one. Some steal from you, or borrow your clothes, or empty the liquor cabinet. On one occasion, I saw Wonder walking down our driveway in one of my outfits. Of course, she had to go!” Diana laughed. “Although it wasn’t funny at the time.”

  “Will you stay and help me choose?” Amie was feeling a bit panicky. She would never be able to interview all the candidates. As fast as she talked to half a dozen, twelve more appeared at the bottom of the driveway. Most spoke very little English and it was difficult to turn them away. Faces, which at first looked hopeful and smiling, fell, and several of them begged to work for her, indicating they were hungry or had many children to feed.

  At last, with Diana’s help, Amie chose a girl, although she was hardly young, and they agreed on one hundred and fifty Togodo dollars a month. The new maid’s name was Pretty, although as Diana explained, most chose a European name as local names were very hard to pronounce.

  Amie thought the name Pretty was perhaps not an accurate description of her new maid. She was short, had stocky legs, very short frizzy hair, a very large nose, and a wide mouth. But as Diana pointed out, she was clean, her dress looked as if it had been ironed, and Pretty at least did have papers, a torn and scruffy baptismal certificate which announced which province she’d been born in. It showed that Pretty was about thirty-one years old. Privately, Amie thought she looked a good deal older.

  Diana observed that it showed initiative to bring some sort of papers to an interview, and, if anything major happened, they would have some idea where Pretty came from, if indeed the papers were hers in the first place.

  It all seemed very hit and miss to Amie, but she agreed to let Pretty work for her for a month and she would pay her weekly, as again, Diana had advised her it was possible to give her a week’s notice if it didn’t work out.

  “At least,” Diana remarked, walking back into the house after sending Pretty out to tell the waiting crowd the Madam had engaged her, “she had the sense to turn up without any children.”

  Several of the women were obviously pregnant or held babies and small children, and the last thing Amie wanted was a whole crowd living in the servants’ quarters in the garden.

  “But there’s only one bed, and the room is very small!” exclaimed Amie.

  Diana looked at her. “Remember the shacks by the school? Your servant’s quarters are five-star in comparison, and rural Africans are used to living in large groups and would think nothing of crowding five or six into one room.” She advised Amie to keep an eye open to make sure Pretty didn’t move half her family in there.

  “You’ll need a gardener as well,” remarked Diana while they sat in the lounge drinking coffee. It seemed that was one thing Pretty could do. She never even looked for the kettle, but calmly filled a saucepan of water and put it on the stove to b
oil.

  “A gardener as well? Are you sure I need a gardener?” said Amie in surprise.

  “Unless you absolutely adore gardening, and would enjoy working out there in the extreme heat?” Diana grinned.

  “Well, no. I’ve never looked after a garden in my life. We always lived in an apartment but ...” Amie paused.

  “It would probably shock the local workers to see you digging or cutting down branches,” said Diana. “It’s just not done by the Madam. Although cutting a few blooms for the house is acceptable, of course.”

  “I feel so guilty and more than a little self-conscious,” said Amie. She surprised herself being this open with Diana; after all, she hadn’t known her all that long. But somehow, Diana invited confidences and she was so easy to talk to.

  “I do understand how you feel,” replied Diana. “I’ve been in Africa for many years …”

  “But I thought you said you’d only been here for two years,” interrupted Amie.

  “In Togodo for two years, yes, but before that we were in Kenya and Botswana and Zimbabwe, in fact, we’ve been abroad for the whole of our married life.”

  “Oh!” said Amie, as the thought dawned on her that maybe one day, she might be saying the same thing. Up until now she had only thought about this as a one off, two-year contract and then back home to settle down as planned. Was this the beginning of a lifetime of expatriate living? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Was she seeing herself in Diana in twenty years’ time? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea at all.

  In the meantime, Jonathon was making very slow but sure progress. “The fixer is amazing,” he told Amie. “Anything I want done, he just says ‘Yes, Boss,’ and off he goes. I guess he must be bribing people all over the place, as his expenses are astronomical, but at least things are happening.”

  Jonathon took Amie into town to show her where the new offices were, he’d warned her that it was nothing very exciting, there was little to choose from in the way of furniture, but at least the phone lines were working. Would Amie like to phone home? Would she? Just give her half a chance!

  She phoned her parents first and although there was a distinct delay on the line, she could hear her mother’s familiar voice and she could picture her standing in the hall by the coat rack as they talked.

  Amie didn’t know quite where to begin. There was so much to tell, and how could you describe the heat, the dust and the flies, the dirt, the poverty, the people, the bright sunlight, and even the atmosphere of optimism among such degradation? It was all a million miles away from Beech Avenue on a cold, wet, overcast afternoon.

  News from her mother was about people at home, who was doing what and the concert at the pre-school where Dean had given a marvellous performance as a cow. Sam had sat up half the night sewing the most amazing costume for him, complete with shiny horns. A brief image flashed into Amie’s mind, thinking how different school was for Angelina and the thousand other children she’d seen.

  She phoned Samantha next, and as usual, Dean answered the phone.

  “This is Dean here. Who is that?” he shouted down the wires, his voice distorting with the delay.

  “It’s Aunty Amie! I’m phoning from Africa.”

  “Are you coming to see us this afternoon?” Dean asked, and then rushed on without waiting for a reply. “You didn’t come and see me as the cow, I was so good, and it was a very important part, Mrs Fleming said so.”

  “I’m so sorry I missed it, Dean, but I am living a very, very long way away and I’ll only be coming home once in a whole year,” Amie replied, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she thought of her family so far away. She heard Sam’s voice in the background asking who was on the phone.

  “It’s Aunty Amie,” Dean replied, “but I’m talking to her.”

  “Not anymore. Say goodbye quickly, overseas phone calls are very expensive,” Sam said prising the receiver away from her eldest’s fingers.

  “Hi Sam. It’s good to hear your voice,” said Amie almost tearfully.

  “You’ve been gone almost four weeks and not a word from you! How’s it going?”

  “But I’ve written at least six letters,” Amie cried. “Didn’t you get any of them?”

  “No, nothing. We were beginning to get a bit worried.”

  “Look, I don’t know what the situation is with the office phone, but I will try and talk to you at least once a month, especially if we can’t trust the postal service,” said Amie, “and I’m sure I can make arrangements to come into the office and send emails from the computer at least once a week. Jonathon has promised to try and get Internet in the house, but it may take a while. Nothing moves quickly over here.”

  “That would be great! So, what’s it like out there? Lots of sunshine? Got a tan, yet?”

  “Oh, Sam, it’s all so different. It’s hard to describe, but it’s nothing like France or Spain, that’s for sure. It’s kind of primitive, yet there are computers everywhere and all the trappings of the first world. But they’re not really used properly though, and anyway we’re expected to stay in the expatriate’s cocoon, go to the Club, play tennis and generally live lives of the pampered married woman …” Amie wasn’t quite sure exactly when they were cut off, but she suddenly realised there was no connection, and although they tried several more times, it was impossible to get through to England again.

  “Never mind,” said Jonathon.

  “I feel bad, you never got to talk to your parents, at all,” Amie said.

  “I’ll send them an email on Monday, or as soon as the lines are back up again. Anyway, time we were going or we’ll be late for dinner at the Club.”

  During the next three months, Amie settled into her new life. There were early problems with Pretty, who’d insisted she’d worked as a maid before, but Amie was dubious. At first, she felt awkward and uncomfortable telling someone else what to do. She guessed that if you grew up with servants you knew how to interact with them, but Amie didn’t even know anyone who employed domestic staff. She didn’t like to ask Diana for advice, fearing she would think her stupid, but it didn’t take Pretty long to figure out Amie was a novice employer. She pushed the boundaries as far as she could.

  At first, Amie didn’t notice how much bread, sugar and jam went missing until it became so obvious she began to wonder. Surely, they’d never used so much food before, even with one extra mouth to feed? She was buying six kilos of sugar every week and several jars of jam. At first, it didn’t occur to her that Pretty was stealing it; surely one person couldn’t consume all this extra food?

  Plucking up courage, Amie asked Pretty if she had helped herself to any extra food. She felt very guilty accusing her maid of theft, she had no proof after all, but who else could be taking it?

  Pretty looked completely shocked and denied she had touched any of the food. She only ate what Amie said she could have and she would never, ever steal from the Madam who was so kind as to give her work.

  Amie felt dreadful and apologised profusely for having doubted her honesty. But the food kept disappearing, if anything at an even faster rate. It wasn’t until Amie saw Pretty sitting on the pavement outside the house one afternoon, selling small parcels of sugar and slices of bread covered in jam, that the truth finally dawned on her.

  Amie was furious, mostly because Pretty had made such a fool of her. She flew into a rage and threatened to fire her. Much to her horror, Pretty burst into tears and promised never to take anything ever again. Amie was reluctant to get rid of her; it would mean starting all over again with another girl, so for the moment, she relented. After that, Amie kept strict control over the foodstuffs, and even went so far as to lock the food cupboards. Now she knew why the kitchen cabinets came with keys and locks, even the fridge had a lock on it. She must get into the habit of putting out what foodstuffs were needed for that day, and keeping the rest under lock and key. She reminded herself that telling lies was an accepted form of behaviour and she should remember not to be so naive
in the future. Still, the incident upset her.

  Amie had suggested that Pretty was to eat with them in the evenings, but the first night, the atmosphere round the table was awkward. Pretty ate with her fingers, ignoring the cutlery she had laid out and Amie could only guess the loud slurping noises Pretty made were a cultural show of appreciation. Halfway through the meal, Pretty got to her feet, removed both herself and her plate and disappeared into her quarters without saying a word. Jonathon breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Amie.

  “I guess she doesn’t want to eat with us, after all,” he said. “Let’s wait and see what she decides to do tomorrow.”

  “I was only trying to be friendly and diplomatic,” Amie commented. “But perhaps you’re right. It was a mistake.”

  “I guess we should try and remember those old movies on TV about the Victorian era and take a leaf out of their book. I don’t remember them fraternising with the servants; they ate downstairs in the kitchen.”

  “But surely these days it’s different. We’re always being told to be modern and more politically correct,” said Amie, gathering up the empty plates.

  Pretty reappeared as if by magic, claiming the dishes by grabbing them out of Amie’s hands and marched back into the kitchen. Amie sat down, and from then on, Pretty made it quite clear she did not wish to eat with them, and in fact took great exception to Amie even lifting a finger to do any housework at all.

  Amie had to show her how to use the iron, and even though she explained slowly and carefully, Pretty succeeded in burning most of the clothes. Amie was forced to go out and buy more clothes, especially when Jonathon only had two un-scorched shirts left to wear. Pretty’s performance only improved when, in desperation, Amie followed Diana’s advice and threatened to deduct the cost of the ruined clothing from Pretty’s wages. It worked like a charm, and from that day on, no more clothes were ruined.

  “What did you do with the ruined shirts?” Diana asked Amie.