Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  After a quick cup of tea, Samantha left with the children, and Amie and Jonathon went upstairs to her old room and began to unpack.

  “Am I going crazy, or has the house shrunk?” whispered Amie. “I can’t believe I thought I had a big bedroom.”

  “I have exactly the same feeling,” said Jonathon quietly as he squeezed past her to get to the wardrobe. “It seems like home and also totally foreign.”

  Amie breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Jonathon understood. She had one of those warm, comfortable moments when she felt very close to her husband. They had shared so much together, far removed from their comfort zone – or was it a rut? Goodness, how much had she changed in only a year?

  Dinner was the usual ritual, the same familiar plates, the exact food she had grown up with. To her surprise, it didn’t quite taste the same. There was a plastic quality about it she’d never noticed before.

  “I remembered you liked these crumbed pancakes,” said her mother as she cleared their plates away. “Thank goodness for the frozen food counters and pre-cooked meals. I don’t know how I would ever have coped without them, with me working and looking after you girls, and the house.”

  Amie felt a slight wave of guilt. She had forgotten the long hours her mother put in at the technical college, and she also had the cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, shopping, and children routine. Amie didn’t have any of that, except the shopping of course which was the fun part. In comparison to her mother, and millions of other housewives throughout the country, Amie was a lady of leisure.

  “I thought we could pop down to the shops and get in some of the things you like best,” continued Mary. “You’ll know what you’ve missed most, and I didn’t want to decide for you.”

  “Thanks Mum, that’s a great idea,” said Amie. “Really thoughtful of you.”

  Leaving Jonathon listening patiently to Raymond complaining bitterly about the present government policies and how the current ruling party was intent on destroying the country, Amie put on her coat and accompanied her mother to the supermarket.

  Once inside the mega store, Amie had a brief moment of panic. The dairy counter seemed to stretch for miles, and there were so many different products to choose from. She just stared at the displays, unable to move.

  “Is everything all right, dear?” asked her mother.

  “Yes, yes, it’s just …” Amie wasn’t sure how to explain it. She waved her arms at the freezer cabinet. “There are just so many to choose from.”

  “Oh,” her mother looked nonplussed. “You’ve not been away that long, nothing’s changed. Now what kind of cheese would you like?”

  No, nothing’s changed, that’s the problem. But I’ve changed, and it’s frightening to realise that. If I change this much in a year, what will I be like in five or ten years?

  “Cheese? What kind do you want?” repeated her mother.

  “Oh, any really. We can only get one kind of cheese at home, I mean … in Apatu,” Amie bit her lip, hoping her slip hadn’t been noticed. Of course, this was home, here, where she was right now, not some far away third-world African city which didn’t even have a reliable electricity or water supply.

  By the time they had loaded the trolley and were queuing up for the checkout, Amie felt a little less spaced out, but her coat collar was rubbing on her neck and she found the atmosphere stifling. So many people were milling around. Sure, there were lots of people in Apatu, but here they seemed closer together and yes, there were a lot more of them. People everywhere, jamming the aisles, pushing past each other on the sidewalk, avoiding each other in the car park. She felt constricted and confined, and the low grey clouds didn’t help either. Ever since they had landed, there had not been one patch of blue sky. It was almost a sense of relief to arrive back at the house and help her mother unpack the groceries, even though the kitchen, too, had shrunk.

  “We’ve arranged a get together on Friday night with some of your old school and college mates, they’re all dying to see you again and hear all about Africa,” said Mary brightly, as she put the kettle on.

  “Oh, great,” said Amie, although she was not sure it was.

  “You’re all meeting at the Grill House at seven o’clock. At least twenty said they would come, so it should be quite a crowd.”

  “Ah, right,” replied Amie, though she mentally added, ‘another crowd!’

  The first evening was spent in front of the television, which left little time for conversation. Amie had been expecting to chat about the new house, the city, the school, their trip into the bush, Angelina and her story, and day-to-day life, but she never got a chance. After East Enders, there was a documentary about people on benefits, followed by a drama where the main characters had extra marital affairs every five minutes, and then it was time for bed. No one had asked anything about Africa and Amie didn’t know how to start telling them.

  As she snuggled up to Jonathon that night, she wondered just where she belonged.

  The next day Amie went over to visit Sam. The moment the door opened, she realised how quiet the house was.

  “Where are the children?” she asked.

  “At school and playgroup,” replied Sam cheerfully, giving her a big hug and then going to put the kettle on.

  “I can’t believe how silent it is!” said Amie, “and I’d forgotten Dean is school age now. When did he start?”

  “Just after Easter, and I was lucky enough to get Jade into crèche. As soon as I start work, Dean can go there after school and I’ll pick them both up on my way home.”

  “I thought you weren’t going back to work until they were both in full-time school, and maybe not even then.”

  “Ah, well not being here, you won’t know how much prices have rocketed. The bills get bigger and bigger, but salaries don’t. We’re struggling on what Gerry brings home each month, so I’ll have to go out to work.”

  “That is such a shame,” said Amie, thinking of several of her friends who not only didn’t work but had a full-time maid as well. Pretty had asked her once or twice where her children were and if she was going to send for them so she could look after them.

  “Believe me, life is a struggle,” said Sam, and Amie noticed her sister looked quite frazzled.

  “It’s a real trial to get through each day. The kids are impossible, they’re always underfoot. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but everyone else’s world seems to revolve around their kids. They don’t do anything without consulting them first, always go to restaurants where there are child-friendly facilities … the little brats are never expected to sit up and shut up!”

  “Like us,” replied Amie with a smile.

  “Oh, do you remember great Aunt Mitchell’s place? I used to dread those visits.”

  “Me too. No toys, we were only allowed to take a colouring book and crayons and we had to sit quietly …”

  “… while the grown-ups talked and talked and talked for hours, and hours….”

  “… and hours.” They both laughed at the memories.

  “But it’s all changed, Amie. Now you can’t even spank your children, you are supposed to reason with them and put them in the naughty corner and get them to apologise, and explain what they have done wrong and why it is wrong. But they don’t tell you what to do if they won’t stay in the naughty corner. I’ve spent hours picking Dean up, putting him back in the corner time after time, and I promise you he has a lot more energy than I have. I’m worn out long before he is.”

  “And you can’t put him in the bedroom?” asked Amie.

  “No, you dare not lock them in, even if the bedroom door had a lock. But now he can reach the door handles there’s no stopping him. I wouldn’t mind, but no one else has the same problem, and I think that’s because they just give in all the time, and the children get exactly what they demand, and they’re allowed to behave exactly as they like. It’s the only way the parents seem to survive. But that’s not the worst thing, Sis, they all seem to enjoy making themselves compl
ete doormats for their kids. I feel so out of step.”

  Amie put her arms around Sam as she began to sob. She had not been expecting this as a homecoming. Sam had always been the capable one, the one who multi-tasked with confidence, the elder sister always urging her on to be braver, more decisive and more adventurous. Now the roles were reversed; Amie felt like the older, wiser sister.

  “What about Gerry, how does he ...?”

  “Oh, he’s working all hours. I think he avoids us as much as he can. Who would want to come back to two monsters after a hard day’s work and have to listen to me screaming at them?” Sam cried. “I’m so tired and so fed up. How will I ever get a job looking like this?” and Sam dissolved into floods of tears again.

  Amie didn’t know what to say. Ever since Sam married, she had been so sure, so composed, so self-assured, taking everything in her stride. All Amie could do was to hug her and murmur meaningless phrases such as, “It will be all right, things will change, the kids will settle down. It’s just a phase right now.”

  Sam sat back in her chair and poured another cup of tea. “It’s Gerry I am really worried about,” she said quietly.

  “Is he not well?” asked Amie.

  “No, not in that sense, but I think …” Sam hesitated, “I think he might be, you know …” she paused.

  “Gerry! No! Never! He’s so solid, so dependable,” Amie was shocked. “You don’t mean …”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I think so,” Sam said miserably. “He has never worked so late at night before, and his job hasn’t changed. I know he’s got more responsibilities, because they’ve not replaced several staff who’ve retired. Not that they’re paying him a penny more of course, it’s always the same excuse. ‘We’ve got to cut back, don’t you know there’s a recession on, the Council’s deeply in debt and so on. I’m sick to death of hearing how poor this country is!”

  “Tell you what,” said Amie. “While we’re home, why don’t you and Gerry take next weekend away and Jonathon and I will look after the kids? Well, it might just be me at the weekend, as Jonathon is popping up north to see a couple of friends from his postgrad days.”

  “Don’t you think I’d have dumped them on Mother and taken off for a few days?” wailed Sam. “Thanks for your offer, but we honestly don’t have the money right now. Annual holidays are a thing of the past, at least until I’m working as well, and who knows how long it will take me to find a job?”

  By the time Amie left, Sam had calmed down and at least agreed to Amie and Jonathon babysitting one evening, and allow Amie to treat them to a meal out, hopefully a romantic dinner.

  “Look where previous romantic dinners got us!” Sam grimaced.

  It only occurred to Amie as she drove back to the house that not one word about her new life in Africa had been exchanged. She had a fund of stories to tell, and no one seemed to want to hear them, or had shown much interest. Maybe when they got together at the Grill House tomorrow evening, she would have an opportunity then to tell everyone about her new life.

  The restaurant was surprisingly empty when they first went in. Before it had always been a hive of activity.

  “Have we got the right day?” asked Amie.

  “Yes, I’m sure your mum said Friday night,” replied Jonathon. “Ah, here are Vanessa and Larry now.” There were hugs all round as one by one, or in couples, their friends arrived and settled round the large table.

  “Thirteen, fourteen ...” counted Jonathon.

  “Gail and Hadrian can’t make it, they couldn’t get a baby sitter,” someone said.

  “Yes, and we all know Gail is wise not to let Hadrian out of her sight!” Everyone laughed. Goodness, thought Amie, would I have laughed at that a year ago?

  “So, tell us all about your new life, then,” said John.

  “Well, where to start?” replied Amie, thinking that at last someone was taking an interest

  “What can I tell you? We’re on the edge of Apatu, the capital of Togodo, in one of the nicer suburbs and the house is quite large, we have room to move, which is great. The garden is not enormous, but it has a pool and ...”

  “You have your own swimming pool?” interrupted Stephanie.

  “Yes, and I swim most days,” said Amie.

  “Lucky you! Imagine being able to swim in your own pool; here it’s much too cold.”

  “Yes, it’s the local swimming baths for us.”

  “We’ve not been since that big outbreak of athlete’s foot. Every time we went we caught it again. It cost us a fortune in medication, so I said enough is enough,” said Stephanie.

  “How long are you back for? Or are you finished out there now?” asked Peter.

  “Just three weeks, that’s all they give us at the moment,” Jonathon answered. “I could honestly do with longer.”

  “The longer the holidays, the better,” said Bella, “but it’s getting back home and coping with all the laundry …”

  “Yes, and cleaning a house you thought was quite clean when you left,” Debbie added.

  “That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about,” Amie responded cheerfully. “Pretty will have the clothes washed and put away in no time, and after I threatened to cut her wages every time she burnt holes with the iron, she has been amazing …”

  Before Amie could finish, Debbie butted in. “You have a servant?”

  “Well, yes, but we call them maids. Everyone has one. It’s expected.”

  “Ha! No chance of us having one,” Bella sounded quite jealous. “Does she come in every day?”

  “She lives on the premises so she’s there all the time,” replied Amie.

  “She stays with you in the house, and she lives with you all the time?” Stephanie was curious.

  “No, she has her own quarters at the back of the house.”

  “That must take a chunk of your salary, a full-time maid,” Peter addressed Jonathon.

  “Local labour is quite cheap out there so it doesn’t cost much. Even if Amie wanted to do her own housework it would be frowned on.” There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence.

  “So, it’s rather colonial, is it? The white madam and the cheap black labour? Sounds as if things haven’t changed much in Africa despite all the democracy and own governments,” Theo spoke for the first time.

  “Well, of course we weren’t there before they got independence, and I’m sure there have been massive changes. But we’re not unkind to Pretty or the gardener ...”

  “A gardener as well!” exclaimed Ben.

  “As I was trying to explain, we pay Pretty and William the going rate, just like everyone else, and for them their wages are good and they can buy everything they need.” Jonathon found himself on the defensive.

  “Ah, but of course they don’t have the same standard of living as the whites do they?” Peter wanted to know.

  “No, of course not, but your average domestic worker in England will have a lower salary than someone, say, in management.”

  “I remember,” Stephanie said quickly, “when my mother needed help when Grandpa was so ill and couldn’t get around, she had to pay megabucks for home help, and the lady arrived every day in her own car and her house was just as nice as ours. Pretty and William don’t have cars, do they?”

  “No, of course not,” Jonathon was trying hard not to get angry. “Things are very different there. People are just glad to get a job and receive a regular wage. They often send most of it back to their villages to support their families.”

  “There are plenty of rich black people,” Amie tried to explain. “In fact, those in government positions earn way more than Jonathon does, and they make lots more on the side through corruption.” She paused as she took a sip of wine. “And neither Pretty nor William feel hard done by. You should have seen the long queue outside the house stretching into the distance with people wanting to work for us.”

  “Unemployment is high in Britain as well, but people are not forced to queue for hours to work
for very basic wages,” Peter said.

  “Well, of course, there are no unemployment benefits or anything like that, although they’re talking about child allowance and maybe some free medical stuff as well …”

  Stephanie cut in before Jonathon had finished. “And they have to pay for all their medicine too, poor things!”

  “If you say everyone pays merely basic wages so every worker only earns a pittance, then aren’t you perpetuating the role of the downtrodden peasant? How can they improve their lives if they don’t have money? Don’t you feel rather guilty?”

  “But, you see, Peter,” Amie jumped in, “if we pay more, two things happen. Firstly, we couldn’t afford to pay them at all, so they would have no work and no money. Secondly, if they get more than other maids and gardeners for the same work and hours, then they’ll only invite jealousy and they could easily be killed if anyone found out, and at the least, other family members would take it away from them.”

  Fourteen pairs of eyes glared at her from around the table. They just don’t understand, she thought miserably. How can they, if they’ve never been there, or, more importantly lived there and experienced things for themselves.

  “Well, I feel sorry for them,” Bella said with conviction. “We see so many on the television, poor starving babies with no fresh water, not enough food, condemned to a life of sheer misery.”

  “Yes, if it wasn’t for the donations people send in, many of them would be dead by now,” said Peter.

  “Don’t you realise most of the money goes into the pockets of the fat cats in charge, and never gets anywhere near those who really need it?” By now, Jonathon was trying very hard to keep his temper.

  “Well, we see plenty of news inserts showing doctors and aid workers, and they’re certainly dishing out the food and medicines, so some of it gets through. Don’t you think the stereotype of the black politicians and the corruption and fraud is simply propaganda?”

  “I think a lot of what you’re shown on television here is also propaganda, only you don’t realise it because you don’t see both sides of the coin.”

  “Anyone for another drink?” asked Ben quickly, trying to defuse the situation.