Day 34: More on the Dhobi

Pictures We went over to the Dhobi's house again. This time to finally take the pictures she wanted. She dressed Jennifer in her own sari while I hung out with the kids in the "courtyard". The little girl has gotten used to me and wanted to play with me all the time! The boys were less reticent this time, especially when I let them see the pictures I was taking of them and even let one of them take a few of me. (My SLR is not as easy to use as a simple point-and-shoot camera, but they managed.) Neighbors started gathering to see the spectacle of foreigners hanging out at the humble home of a washer woman. I got one of the teenage boys to learn to use the camera so he could later take a picture of all of us. Then the moment came when Jennifer in her beautiful borrowed sari came out. We had to stand in the blistering sun in her "garden" (really it's a vegetable section of the courtyard). Having pictures of us meant a lot for Neelam. I can't really understand her. She got friendly with us quite quickly, unlike the cook. I don't really know what she really wants; I am still wondering if she has any ulterior motives for her kindness. Maybe I've lived in the Northeast too long or traveled to too many places where people just wanted my money. Evening Meal After the photo session I invited them to come back that night, although the photos wouldn't be printed until the next day. That night she came with little Khushi and I offered them KFC chicken. Khushi had already eaten but she still enjoyed the chicken. The cook, though had never seen such a way of making chicken, told Jennifer that if she were her cook then she could make this chicken and told her what she would actually do. In the hearts of all these non-upper-class people is a desire to be in America. It doesn't matter what the reality is in an American life, they just want to be there because some of them are aware of how difficult life here is, for them and for their children. But knowing America wouldn't be part of her life any time soon, she brought up a different topic. Schooling. Her children goes to a Hindi medium school, which means the instructions are in Hindi only. It's obvious that to get anywhere far in this country in terms of career you would need to know quite a lot of English. She herself never went to school, but she could read and write basic Hindi, at least better than her husband who did go to school. She learned Hindi from a friend. Being a village woman it was impressive that she could read and write, especially without having gone to school. That probably meant she took education seriously, certainly more than most villagers who believed manual labor was the only financial means in life. She knew the school her children were going were not the best but she had no money. Each child would need $60 a year to attend a private, Hindi-English medium school. That was not a lot of money for us so we offered to help her. Obviously it's not that simple. Where would the money go? I asked her repeatedly if there was a risk the money would end up funding her husband's alcohol habits. She said no; she said that the money she earned didn't go to him. I wasn't sure how that was possible. I don't even understand very well husband-wife relationships in the US, so certainly not in a foreign country. We thought we should just go to the school and pay them directly, but school was closed until July. The good intention was there, but what really counts is the implementation. We have to figure that out. But what was most interesting was that when we offered to help her, she didn't show any pretense of denying the offer, like she did with other offers of money (like for her service). She accepted it almost immediately. I was impressed; she sincerely wanted her children to go to a better school. We just have to find a way to make that happen. Other curious thing about her visit was her not letting her little girl have more of my mango juice. From what I gathered, I think she didn't want the girl to get spoiled because when she went back to her home she wouldn't get more than just well water to drink. I understood and respected the mother's opinion, but I was sad that this little girl, who loves juices, wasn't allowed the vitamins and nutrients she needed, even for that one evening. But Khushi spent nearly the whole time pointing at the carton of mango juice, trying to look happy as sulking or crying, she knew, wouldn't work. I am glad to get to know them better, their lives, their expectations, their obstacles. I keep wondering what people like them will end up in this country that is continuing to increase its overall wealth. Will they be swept forward by the wind or left behind in deeper poverty?

neighors dhobi family