Colonial Living

My grandmother was born in India in the early 1900s and enjoyed all the perks and privileges of a daughter of a colonial general. I've always imagined her life like that of the little girl in "A Little Princess" before she (the character) became an orphan, and as far as I've heard, it's a pretty accurate comparison. I've always wondered how wonderful it must've been to live in an exotic country with servants to wait on you, to lord over a manor, or better yet, be the child of the lord of the manor.

No more anymore. This era of ours is not an era of colonialism, and anything that faintly whiffs at colonial overlord makes me squeamish and overly apologetic for being born to upper middle class parents.

Our very comfortable apartment here in Buenos Aires comes with a pool in the back, a portero who washes the floors of the building (including the sidewalk) everyday, heated floors, American appliances and two cleaners who come in once a week, Lidia and Daniela. We have been living more comfortably than most Argentines and for this I feel a pang of guilt, especially when the cleaners come in to clean up after us. Neither of them speak a word of English and in my rudimentary Spanish I've pieced together that Lidia, who is in her 40s, is from Bolivia, lives here on her own and sends money back to her family dutifully. Daniela is a mystery to me. She is probably in her 20s, helps Lidia out ever since she injured her thumb, shows up here sometimes two hours before Lidia does and watches TV on our bed until she does. When she's not watching TV they're blasting Argentine pop radio stations which must irritate the upstairs neighbor.

I certainly appreciate that we have cleaners who do a good job of cleaning our apartment but I can't stand to be here when they are because it makes me feel like the colonialist, living better than any of them may ever, exploring the world while they clean houses for (what must seem like to them) fat-cat Americans. I feel like if I'm not there then it's less of an affront to them. So as soon as Daniela shows up I grab my gym bag or work and head out for a few hours.

Yesterday she caught me right before I was out the door and asked me what I wanted to do with these clothes that were on the floor. I always clean up before they come around but I missed this pile of clothes because they were hiding on the other side of the bed. I picked them up and put them in a pile on the bed and made large arm motions over them trying to communicate to her "Don't worry about this, just leave them here, I'll tidy them up when I get back". And with that I left.

Two and a half hours later I returned and was dismayed to see that Daniela was still there and that the only thing cleaned was the bathroom. I wasn't upset because she'd been watching TV the whole time, but that I had exhausted all my tasks to occupy me while I kept out of sight. Worst of all, I noticed that she had folded every single article of clothing in the pile and put them neatly away in our drawers. I was suddenly twisted with guilt for not being more clear because she must've thought I actually told her to do that. Feeling a little shame-faced and with no other excuse to leave the apartment, I just picked up my book and hid on the balcony.

Thirty minutes later Lidia came in and then they really got down to work. Lidia came out with a bucket of water and a mop to clean up the balcony floor and asked me to move out of her way and I blushed with embarrassment for feeling like I've affronted them again with my presence. I hid in the bedroom and tried too hard to ignore Daniela when she came in to mop up the floor in there.

I think Lidia likes me but I'm not too thrilled about this. Last time I got caught in the apartment with her she started asking me how much house cleaners make in America and it went quickly down hill from there. Having some foresight I purposely gave her a conservative figure at $10 an hour and she almost fell to the floor in disbelief. "American?!" she asked with eyes wide in disbelief, I nodded my head slowly and she went on to say how rich she would be in Bolivia if she was making 10U$ an hour here. She could be retired already!

A little later on she asked me where Graham and I were going after this and I told her the itinerary of our trip, but she didn't mean that, she wanted to know where we'd be living. With a little bit of hesitation I told her that I planned on going to London for awhile and Graham would probably be going back to New York. New York City?! she asked with eyes wide again and again I slowly nodded my head yes. I have to give her credit though, she didn't waste anytime, she started making plans to move to New York City in the fall and Graham and I would help set her up, yes, sounds good? Partly because I couldn't believe my ears and partly because I felt excruciatingly awkward, I started pretending I couldn't understand a word she was saying, 'like a true colonialist' I thought to myself with sheepish shame. She lapsed back into talking about how alone she is here and how much she misses her family and I wanted to jump out the window when I saw tears well up in her eyes. Instead I just nodded my head, yes. She's a spry thing though and quickly laughed it off and went back to cleaning, leaving me home free for the moment.

When she caught up with me yesterday there was our regular awkward banter, You teach me English, yes? Yes you teach me English and I teach you Spanish. To which I have to respond that I work all week and my only free day is Sunday (which is true) and I just don't have time for another student. She laughs and shakes her head every time I say this.

She saw my bike out on the balcony when she came to out clean and asked me if I'd be selling it when I left. Yes, I would be, and she asked how much I bought it for, and I told her 450 pesos. I'm not sure if she made an offer but she told me to sell it to her, which again sent me looking for an escape route because I had intended on selling it for 350 and doubt she wouldn't have balked at that price. I said I had to think about it and that seemed to appease her for the time being.

She knows when we're moving out of this apartment and I'm a little worried at what she may ask from us before we leave. That may seem a little pretentious but I'm certain it's a valid concern. The last time I was in a spot like this was after I'd gotten back from a safari in Kenya with an old boyfriend. We were at home, getting ready to go out when a ridiculously long number came up on his caller id. Our guide from the safari was calling and asked Matteo for a large sum of euros for a loan because his wife had been taken into hospital and in all likelihood would die there without the money needed for medicine. We were with this man for three days and neither of us had ever heard him mention a wife so Matteo told him no, to which the guide responded by begging him not to tell his boss that he had called us.

It was a ruse, clearly, but I still felt cold and callous, and more so when I got angry with him for putting us in that kind of spot. We gave him and his boss a great tip when we left, so what the hell? This is the situation I'm worried about entering into on Lidia's last day with us because we won't have the luxury of having thousands of miles between us, I'm worried she's going to watch TV until I run out of things to do in the cafe and have to come home.