Before Sumiyatie could take a seat she excused herself for a prayer at the Muslim Converts building next door. In the back somewhere there they have a prayer room. This was the third prayer of the day—the time shortly after 5pm. There would be two more prayers back home. Twenty or twenty five minutes Sumiyatie was gone. On her return the direct questions did not seem to bother or unsettle her. Or at least Sumiyatie immediately set about answering.
Health was the first
mention—her own and her family's back in Java. Then something else in the same
vein: fortune, peace or amity. Following that came money.
— We work for money, she explained. We need money....
There must have been a look of surprise Sumiyatie received. Nothing unusual in praying for money. No doubt Sumiyatie was perfectly right. There was no end of the wish for money.
Fifteen years Sumiyatie has been in Singapore working as a maid. A maid is a cook, cleaner, laundrywoman and ironer, shopper, child-minder, homework supervisor, carer of the elderly, confidant, a crucial member of a household. Between $350 - 600 per month, the Singaporeans get an excellent bargain. Sumiyatie is at the upper end of the range, knowing her value in the marketplace, confident and assured in interviews no doubt and with excellent references, also no doubt.
After fifteen years' earnings Sumiyatie has put two sisters through post-secondary education (one now a nurse and the other a seamstress). Both now settled and married with children. For her father Sumiyatie has managed to seed a brick kiln that has created a tidy little business in the kampung. In addition Sumiyatie has had a small house built for herself in the kampung not far from the house of her parents. Her future lies in providing care for them in coming years. Unlike many of the maids of her age in Singapore, Sumiyatie has never married and has no children. The paradigm of the loving spinster-sister, aunt and daughter, sacrificing herself for her family. Providing an opportunity for her sisters has meant they do not need to leave their homeland as Sumiyatie, second eldest, has done.
In keeping with the profile of the good and true spinster, Sumiyatie had an impressive, leather bound and gilt-edged Koran in her bag, with button clasp on the cover. Dual text Arabic and Bahasa Malay. Bahassa Indonesian, which is closely related to Malay, difficult to obtain in Singapore. In her provincial town-centre on Java the same. For any terms that stump her, Sumiyatie consults an on-line dictionary. Six months is the usual turn-around for a reading cover to cover. Then Sumiyatie begins again.
A handsome edition Sumiyatie has chosen. The Arabic is boxed in the centre of the page, the Bahasa in columns either side and below at the foot of the page. Last night a handsome bookmark was placed about one third in, somewhere near the end of the five early prophets it might have been, before the advent of Mohammed. Around five hundred pages, a heavy volume to cart. Though she has good IT skills, unlike many of the maids in Singapore, almost certainly Sumiyatie has not joined Facebook. She wears no make-up or jewelry. But then neither does she wear the conservative Muslim attire. She was not ready for the scarf, Sumiyatie had said on the first acquaintance. Nearly five months later and after all her reading, she is still not ready.
And it needs to be said, in appearance Sumiyatie is far from the wall-flower spinster type. Last night she was in a lemon-yellow patterned long sleeved tee and dress somewhere below the knees. Neat, presentable; not prim. In the Christian tradition she is one of the bright-eyed Hollywood nuns who inevitably are rescued from the cloister by the right sort of dashing prince charming. A challenge for the rogue-ish kind of prince, to be sure.
Sumiyatie is short, slight, alert, free with a bright, open smile. A puzzle or uncertainty makes her wrinkle her nose and twist her mouth. Dark hair pulled back in a simple arrangement. There would be no hairdressing bills for this sensible, earnest worker-eager beaver. The physical slightness likely part of the spiritual discipline. From childhood Sumiyatie has kept the Ramadan fast, its rigour carried over into all meals. Needless to say, Sumiyatie has never taken alcohol, tobacco or gambled—the strict Islamic prohibitions. Sumiyatie avoids Chinese placements because of the problem of pork, at least now when she can be choosy. To someone like Sumiyatie, even handling pork, breathing its aroma, would cause discomfort.
Presently Sumiyatie works for an expat couple in Serangoon, where she has been eighteen months. Sir is French, a manager of a French brand of sunglasses. Ma'me a compatriot. Sir older with a child from a previous marriage; Ma'me Sumiyatie's age, one young daughter from the union.
Eighteen months ago Ma'me neither prayed nor fasted. Now she does, under Sumiyatie's influence. Yatie eventually spoke to her, reminding her of her heritage. Shamed her a little perhaps. The young daughter of the household is now leading a Muslim life. Sir raising no objection.
In her previous employment Yatie was with a Chinese family with three young children. Three kids make the maid's job so much harder of course. The parents were busy with working and providing. It was Yatie who provided the parenting. As is common in such situations, the bonds of affection between children and maid were almost stronger than that of the parents and children. Even now eighteen months later, the Chinese children call Yatie regularly on the phone. They talk at length and discuss their problems, including those concerning their parents, the neglect and estrangement. Yatie counsels patience, explains the pressures of work and business in busy Singapore. It is possible like her compatriot and namesake Yati out in Bukit Panjang, toward the Causeway linking the island with Malaysia, the children had slept with the maid and could not cope in the night without her. This is often the case, as it was in the parenting of old in our Western countries a number of generations past. (The second Yati out in Bukit Panjang, at thirty-one a couple of years younger than Sumiyatie, has three children under the age of eight sleeping in the same room as herself, two in bunks and the youngest in her own bed.)
As had happened through the first meeting with Yatie nearly five months ago, Meilin chanced past again last night. Mei is on a spiritual quest herself. She had come from a luncheon earlier in the day with one of the founders of her meditation centre. A gift book had been presented by the man, something to do with maximizing happiness. The blurb on the back talked about extensive and unlimited happiness, the happiness on a level with godhead, or the creator. The book told how. The author was a New York Times bestseller.
Sumiyatie had another book too beside the Holy Book in her bag. It had just been purchased from the bookshop at Joo Chiat Complex. This volume concerned fasting. On the cover a brightly lit desert scene, dunes and a little camel train with a couple of men afoot. An altogether different prospect. Another path.
— We work for money, she explained. We need money....
There must have been a look of surprise Sumiyatie received. Nothing unusual in praying for money. No doubt Sumiyatie was perfectly right. There was no end of the wish for money.
Fifteen years Sumiyatie has been in Singapore working as a maid. A maid is a cook, cleaner, laundrywoman and ironer, shopper, child-minder, homework supervisor, carer of the elderly, confidant, a crucial member of a household. Between $350 - 600 per month, the Singaporeans get an excellent bargain. Sumiyatie is at the upper end of the range, knowing her value in the marketplace, confident and assured in interviews no doubt and with excellent references, also no doubt.
After fifteen years' earnings Sumiyatie has put two sisters through post-secondary education (one now a nurse and the other a seamstress). Both now settled and married with children. For her father Sumiyatie has managed to seed a brick kiln that has created a tidy little business in the kampung. In addition Sumiyatie has had a small house built for herself in the kampung not far from the house of her parents. Her future lies in providing care for them in coming years. Unlike many of the maids of her age in Singapore, Sumiyatie has never married and has no children. The paradigm of the loving spinster-sister, aunt and daughter, sacrificing herself for her family. Providing an opportunity for her sisters has meant they do not need to leave their homeland as Sumiyatie, second eldest, has done.
In keeping with the profile of the good and true spinster, Sumiyatie had an impressive, leather bound and gilt-edged Koran in her bag, with button clasp on the cover. Dual text Arabic and Bahasa Malay. Bahassa Indonesian, which is closely related to Malay, difficult to obtain in Singapore. In her provincial town-centre on Java the same. For any terms that stump her, Sumiyatie consults an on-line dictionary. Six months is the usual turn-around for a reading cover to cover. Then Sumiyatie begins again.
A handsome edition Sumiyatie has chosen. The Arabic is boxed in the centre of the page, the Bahasa in columns either side and below at the foot of the page. Last night a handsome bookmark was placed about one third in, somewhere near the end of the five early prophets it might have been, before the advent of Mohammed. Around five hundred pages, a heavy volume to cart. Though she has good IT skills, unlike many of the maids in Singapore, almost certainly Sumiyatie has not joined Facebook. She wears no make-up or jewelry. But then neither does she wear the conservative Muslim attire. She was not ready for the scarf, Sumiyatie had said on the first acquaintance. Nearly five months later and after all her reading, she is still not ready.
And it needs to be said, in appearance Sumiyatie is far from the wall-flower spinster type. Last night she was in a lemon-yellow patterned long sleeved tee and dress somewhere below the knees. Neat, presentable; not prim. In the Christian tradition she is one of the bright-eyed Hollywood nuns who inevitably are rescued from the cloister by the right sort of dashing prince charming. A challenge for the rogue-ish kind of prince, to be sure.
Sumiyatie is short, slight, alert, free with a bright, open smile. A puzzle or uncertainty makes her wrinkle her nose and twist her mouth. Dark hair pulled back in a simple arrangement. There would be no hairdressing bills for this sensible, earnest worker-eager beaver. The physical slightness likely part of the spiritual discipline. From childhood Sumiyatie has kept the Ramadan fast, its rigour carried over into all meals. Needless to say, Sumiyatie has never taken alcohol, tobacco or gambled—the strict Islamic prohibitions. Sumiyatie avoids Chinese placements because of the problem of pork, at least now when she can be choosy. To someone like Sumiyatie, even handling pork, breathing its aroma, would cause discomfort.
Presently Sumiyatie works for an expat couple in Serangoon, where she has been eighteen months. Sir is French, a manager of a French brand of sunglasses. Ma'me a compatriot. Sir older with a child from a previous marriage; Ma'me Sumiyatie's age, one young daughter from the union.
Eighteen months ago Ma'me neither prayed nor fasted. Now she does, under Sumiyatie's influence. Yatie eventually spoke to her, reminding her of her heritage. Shamed her a little perhaps. The young daughter of the household is now leading a Muslim life. Sir raising no objection.
In her previous employment Yatie was with a Chinese family with three young children. Three kids make the maid's job so much harder of course. The parents were busy with working and providing. It was Yatie who provided the parenting. As is common in such situations, the bonds of affection between children and maid were almost stronger than that of the parents and children. Even now eighteen months later, the Chinese children call Yatie regularly on the phone. They talk at length and discuss their problems, including those concerning their parents, the neglect and estrangement. Yatie counsels patience, explains the pressures of work and business in busy Singapore. It is possible like her compatriot and namesake Yati out in Bukit Panjang, toward the Causeway linking the island with Malaysia, the children had slept with the maid and could not cope in the night without her. This is often the case, as it was in the parenting of old in our Western countries a number of generations past. (The second Yati out in Bukit Panjang, at thirty-one a couple of years younger than Sumiyatie, has three children under the age of eight sleeping in the same room as herself, two in bunks and the youngest in her own bed.)
As had happened through the first meeting with Yatie nearly five months ago, Meilin chanced past again last night. Mei is on a spiritual quest herself. She had come from a luncheon earlier in the day with one of the founders of her meditation centre. A gift book had been presented by the man, something to do with maximizing happiness. The blurb on the back talked about extensive and unlimited happiness, the happiness on a level with godhead, or the creator. The book told how. The author was a New York Times bestseller.
Sumiyatie had another book too beside the Holy Book in her bag. It had just been purchased from the bookshop at Joo Chiat Complex. This volume concerned fasting. On the cover a brightly lit desert scene, dunes and a little camel train with a couple of men afoot. An altogether different prospect. Another path.
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