Two Women, One House

Predictably, women in America almost swoon over the thought of having a full time house helper.  Hiring someone to do all the laundry, clean the kitchen, take care of all the floors and other menial tasks is a coveted thought amongst most people I talk too.  While many of us x-patriot women could barely survive without the help of national women, it is not without issues for the majority of us.  If you are ever ‘privy’ enough to be in a group of x-patriot women to hear them talk about their house helpers, you will begin to wonder when the next TV show will begin.  We sound like the most spoiled, arrogant women on the planet.  The reality is: it’s two women and one house.  Two cultures and one will rule.  I am going to try and paint some of the joys and sorrows of help in the home.  Not that I am an authority on this subject, having only had a year and a half of this luxury.  Yet having a frank chat about it with you will be reflective on my part and hopefully satisfy your inquisitive desire to know more about life here in Indonesia.

First of all, I would like to put out the disclaimer: that having people work for me has taught me so much about myself.  Kind of like raising kids.  I have learnt that I strongly dislike micro managing people and that I will choose the battles that I want to fight carefully.  Let me expound.  When someone begins to works for me, I like to tell them the big picture of things that need to be done and “suggest” time frames and ways that these tasks can be accomplished.  Then graciously I walk away.  Believing that they can figure out what works best for them and the flow of the family.  I figure, that part of it is  a women’s intuition.  At times, this method has led me to feel extremely frustrated and even angry.  Which leads me to my next disclaimer of choosing battles.  For a new helper, I let them know that I like the laundry to be hung outside as soon as they arrive, because with a family my size and if it is rainy season, getting the clothes dry is a big priority.  Also that I desire the dishes to be washed earlier in the morning then later, because then I can start prepping lunch food with clean dishes.  When the laundry sits for hours inside and the sun is shining or the dirty dishes stay stacked and untouched I can literally feel my muscles tense.  I am slowly learning that I must approach my helper and restate my expectations.  I would rather NEVER have to do this.  I DON’T ENJOY telling people what to do.  Yet, to not say anything causes me to feel slightly insane.  Other things bother me, like my current helper says it makes her head feel dizzy to clean our bathrooms.  Tolerantly, rather then fight the battle, I clean them myself.

 

Perhaps this draws no sympathy from you.  Maybe you disdainfully think, “Ruth why don’t you just hang out the clothes or do the dishes?”  I wholeheartedly agree that this would be an easy solution.  Many days, I want to just deal with it myself.  Strangely there is not enough time for me too though.  I have already worked hard from 6-8:30.  Sorting clothes, baking, getting kids out the door, picking up clutter, marching pets and kids around, exercising……pant,pant….it is now time to homeschool 2 boys.  Soon it will be time to begin cooking lunch, FROM SCRATCH.  Then I must be out the door with my ducks in a row most days by 12:15.  Time flies.  I have to delegate.  It is survival.  It is living outside of doing nothing but housework and cooking with 6 people running through this home. 

The joys are once a helper and I get in the groove of life in my home, it is simply delicious.  To know that the dishes, floors, clothes, dusting, etc. is simply DONE.  To know that I can walk out my door at lunch time and return to clothes folded and ironed is a dream and helps to reduce much stress.  Freeing me to live out a life of things that are necessary for our children’s education and my own sanity.  One thing that my current helper does, Ibu Ika, is she loves to make flower bouquet's for our table.  This brings both her and I much joy and pleasure.  In the clash of our cultures we both find great joy in flowers.

Some helpers are more outspoken then others.  Some more good natured.  Some more trusting.  Some faster.  Some slower.  Some more detailed.  Some more sloppy.  Some are bossy.  Some are angels. 

There are days when the introvert side of me kicks in.  I don’t really want anyone in my house.  I don’t want to talk to anyone other then my children and my husband.  I don’t want to be aware of another person moving about in my home.  For regardless if I am consciously even aware of it, subconsciously, my mind always knows where my helper is.  Kind of like I always know where my children are.  Those are the days when guilt kicks in…..taunting the western mind.  Should I feel guilty if I don’t want to talk to anyone?  Or if I want to take a nap?  Or if I want to write a blog or work on an email project or a clinic project?  It must seem so slothful to those who don’t even own an email account to watch others at their computer for hours.  Sitting there.  “Doing nothing.”  I can also feel  guilty  when it is time to carry inside the groceries.  Knowing that what I spend on groceries would not be able to be comprehended by my helper.  So often I won’t bring in groceries until after my helper leaves. 

Months ago, I wrote about the girl from the mountains who was helping us.  She still is, but I had to ask her to work in the yard instead of inside the house.  When I found her green nose drippings wiped on the wall by the door and she kept drinking out of our personal cups that we will drink out of for a day or two so that we are not having to wash 100’s of cups a day…..the tension verses help outweighed each other.  She is loving being outside and has planted hundreds of flowers all around our home.  Bringing beauty and joy to the clashing cultures.

It is challenging and interestingly complicated to have two women in one house.  For this season in my life, I am dependent on help.  It is also completely expected that we foreign women, will have help.  The days my helper is sick, or every weekend when she is off I miss her and I also feel strangely free.  For I am meant to be the woman of this house.  One day, I look forward to having very little outside help.  Dramatically, I can see my American friends roll their eyes in disbelief. HA!  Would you like to trade places for a week or two?  That’s ok.  I’ll keep the two women in this house for now.  No need for us to join the TV show “Trading Spaces”.