JOYCE’S POINT OF VIEW

“Anna, come, we’ll sit on the grass and talk,” Joyce said to Anna.

“Sure, Aunty Joyce, I’m free today Anna,”  replied happily.

“Anna, I don’t like complaining but can’t take it any more. I don’t know what to do. I’m old now, and my body hurts,” Joyce said, grimacing as she sat on the neatly trimmed lawn.

She continued, “Sabera, as she gets older, is becoming worse by the day. She left her glasses in the rice container and accused me of stealing them. Can you imagine what I would want with her glasses, Anna? The worst part is that when Ramadhaan comes, all she does is cook, and I have to clean; the moment I sit to eat lunch, she gets upset. Anna, what do I do? Is it the same for you?”

“Aunty Joyce, Sabera is old. You must decide now to retire and live with your children or work and try to save up. My Makoti is pleasant to me. I won’t lie. She and I clean and work together; we chat about our childhood and have breakfast together. When I started to work, you told me that I must know the rules, that I am just the help and that it will always stay that way. But Joyce, Makoti is something else,” Anna said with a wistful smile.

“She told me that if I were to have children, she doesn’t want me to stay without them, like how you left your little ones to work for her. Joyce, maybe you need to sit Sabera down and tell her how you feel. She probably needs to see your human side,” the younger woman advised.

“Joyce, between you and me, I see how nice Islam is and how it treats women. Makoti sees me as a family member; I get the day off when her husband is home. I asked her about Islam, and she asked me about my beliefs, and there were some similarities,” Anna shared.

“Mara, Anna, you are the lucky one,” Joyce said sadly.

“Sabera won’t even let me use the bathroom in the house, the same one I clean. I must sit outside and eat the food she gives me from a separate plate, and when you tell me that their religion is not like this, you are lying. Why do they mistreat me? I’ve been working for over 20 years,” the elderly Joyce said tearfully.

“Anna, what am I going to do?” she asked, concerned.

“I’ve educated my children, and they’re now professionals, but I think they are embarrassed that I am a domestic helper. After Jabu died, I had no choice but to leave them to go out to work to support and feed them. It broke my heart, but I had little choice, Joyce said as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“If the kitchen walls in Sabera’s kitchen could talk, they would tell you about my pain, disappointments and regrets, knowing that my kids were growing up without me. Here I am today, accused of stealing,” Joyce lamented.

Joyce continued, sad and bitter, “I won’t lie, Uncle is good to me; if he sees me moving the couch or the bed he gets upset and asks why I didn’t tell him he needs help. But honestly, Anna, how can you even learn about this religion when they mistreat us?”

Aunty Joyce, you know I love you, and you helped me when I was younger, but not all Muslims treat their helpers the same. It would help if you came to the meetings Makoti has at home. You will learn about the truth of Islam,” Anna advised as she prepared to return to her duties.

RAMADAN TIP:

“Allah is kind and loves kindness, and He rewards kindness in a way that He does not reward for harshness.