There is nothing called a good maid

Where have all the good maids gone? The last one we had lasted exactly 2 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes and 45 seconds. This is in itself a record. The one before her lasted less than two weeks. And the one before that, well…Gone are the days when you could have a maid for life. As I was growing up, I fell under the keep of exactly three maids. That gives you a good idea of their staying power.

In spite of the fact that they ran the household with an iron fist, I will be the first to admit that they were good. This explains why my mother kept them for so long. At that time they were known as domestic servants. Their brief was simple and straight forward; clean the house, do the laundry, cook the food and knock the spoiled brats (us) into shape.

Nowadays they are referred to as Domestic Workers with capitals. It’s called political correctness. They are so educated, some coming in with “A” levels, that you can hardly tell them anything. They will tell you about something called ‘Rights” which strikes the fear of God into any employer. Just try sneaking in some work into their programme and they tell you, “Ende mina ama-RIGHTS ami ngiyawazi, fethu!” (I know my rights, Mister!)

In fact, employers partially celebrate when a domestic decides to hit the road of her own volition. The Labour Act is so tight that it takes you going as far as the High Court just to fire your maid. So the easy way out is to hire Nkazana (Girlie) fresh from the sticks, preferably a relative. The problem is that they gat clever too quickly, usually because of too much television and the garden boy, if you get my drift.

I understand the logic of employing relatives. There are a lot of risks in taking in a total stranger and entrust her with the custody of your children and precious property.
Take form me, relatives are the worst. When they have had a feel of city life, they are more likely to disappear with your prized possessions, to e-Ndaminya (Joburg), usually with the garden boy as well.

The general rule is that the wife chooses and interviews the maid, who is invariably female. It has to be the boss of the house otherwise men are tempted to use other criteria that have little to do with domestic chores. The message is very clear, keep your hands off the maid, or else. However, some men never listen. And this explains why some maids never last, particularly if they look like Miss Zimbabwe. The wife ensures that she employs the Ogre of Westphalia if not just to preserve her marriage.

I refer to risks associated with employing maids. The moment you disappear round the corner on your way to work, the party begins. How do you ensure that the maid puts in a decent day’s work while you are away? You can’t! Out form the woodwork come their relatives, friends and boyfriends. Sad to say, the marital bed becomes a trampoline and the CD and video collections take a walk. Groceries never last the month and the maid becomes fatter than the whole family combined.

If yours is a quest to seek out the perfect maid, then I will sooner show you the eye of a louse. The truth is that there is nothing like a good maid. Just pray that they will last the distance without fleeing with your prized television set, wardrobe or worse still, your husband.