Saturday morning I went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Next to the microwave is a wooden mug hanging thing where typically I find 3 white mugs with a blue stripe and 1 smaller mug with birds. Saturday morning there was only the mug with the birds. I didn't think anything of it, so I took it, filled it with milk and put it in the microwave to warm. Seconds later roomie walked in and exclaimed, "What are you doing. Oh no Payal. No no no!" I freaked thinking what the hell did I do now. She quickly turned the microwave off and told me that's the maid's mug. I looked at her and said, "Umm...ok. Is that a problem? Will she mind if I use it?" Roomie told me that the maid (Zainab) wouldn't care, but don't I. I told her it didn't bother me and she turned the microwave back on and told me "I segregated the cups". I couldn't say what I wanted, something along the lines of she's human too, I'm not going to catch some disease from drinking from the same cup, etc. Instead I made my coffee and drank from the mug with birds as she sat there watching me, thinking who knows what.
When she said segregated, it hit a nerve. Now I shouldn't be surprised, I should have expected it. I've seen it over and over with my family in India and I've made similar 'mistakes' in India. The worse being when I walked into a house using the lower caste entrance, boy was I scolded, but I continued to use that entrance anyway, my small rebellion. Given that I've gone through this before, I shouldn't have been so shocked, but I was. It took me by surprise, especially since when I first met Anar she told me Zainab is like family, shes been with the family for 21 years. I guess I was mistaken to think she would be treated like family. The divide, the segregation, the superior complex, whatever you want to call it, has traveled across the Indian ocean and rooted itself here. They replaced the lower castes with black Africans, but the mentality is still the same. One aspect of Indian culture I abhor, though I suspect it is not exclusive to India. I have no answer to how I should handle this, so I'll continue my small acts of rebellion, like going to the duka (roadside store) to buy my goods instead of sending Zainab and drinking from whatever mug is avaliable including the one with the birds (besides its a prettier mug).
By the way I hate using the word maid, but since this post is about my experience and maid is the term used here, I've decided to use it.
You are right, separatism is there
ReplyDeleteWOW!! no words but wow!
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