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18+ | | An African In Transition. | | by: Sarah ![View zwisis's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-elephant-60.gif "View zwisis's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]") ![Email User: zwisis [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/mail-off.gif "Email User: zwisis [Offline / Private]") | This item requires reviews with ratings.
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Created: 11:38am on 03-24-2005
Modified: 7:50am on 08-05-2009 | |
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Entry #400570, added on 01-19-06 @ 4:07 pm EST.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
There's Something Living In The Rubbish Bin!
A day spent doing housework… Hmmm, not something for which I ever have great energy, but who else is going to do it? Okay, I have a Georgian girl called Iris who comes in for a few hours once every fortnight, and it’s a help. But she doesn’t iron. Never. She vacuums, washes the floors and carpets, dusts and cleans windows. I clean my bedroom, the bathrooms and the kitchen. In fact I’m so embarrassed by the amount of dog hair in the house I’e been known to give the place a quick going over before Iris arrives! Dog hair - Velcroed to the carpet  , rushing down the passages like tumbleweed or nestling in the corners as thick as a pile of cotton wool  … it’s the bane of my life. And of Matti and Indi’s – warning to Tor ![View davidmcclain's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-regular-40.gif "View davidmcclain's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]") and Mel aka Mrs Tor ![View mrstor's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-regular-10.gif "View mrstor's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]") : GSDs shed hair. By the pillowcaseful. Be warned.
In Zimbabwe I was fortunate. I had a lovely house on an acre with a really nice garden. My maid, Judith, kept the inside immaculate, did my ironing and even prepared food for me whilst I rushed around flogging (ZimSlang for selling) houses. Then there was James, who tended my garden as though it was his child. Every day he cleaned my swimming pool, and during the week he weeded, mowed the lawn, cleaned up dead branches and leaves AND picked up those little parcels dogs leave all over the lawn  . On hearing I was coming to live in Greece my friends were horrified: “No servants??? What will you do???” And I learned that some Greek ladies rubbed their hands with glee as they envisioned these spoilt white African women (my friend Stella arrived from Tanzania just after I got here)learning to live without domestic help!
Well, I have managed. I guess it helps that when I was younger I had to make my own bed, tidy up my cupboard and clean up the kitchen every night. I also learned how to cook – from the age of ten I was making simple things like scones and hamburgers. So I am not too domestically challenged. It also helps that I don’t work. People who hold down jobs and come home to do their domestic chores have my admiration – I salute all of you that face these challenges!
My last chore of the day was to toss out the garbage. I loaded up Kit’s boot, and of course he wouldn’t start. That car is worse than me – it was 3ºC (37ºF) and he wasn’t happy about going out. I’ve worked him out, though – all I do is wait ten minutes, then try again, and he starts immediately. I swear that car is human. So we went down to the two rubbish bins at the bottom of the road, and I opened the boot and took out the first bag. Turning toward the bin I got one of the biggest shocks of my life.
A dog was inside the bin. He had his paws on the front. He was looking out at me.
I dropped the bag. So many thoughts flooded my mind I cannot remember any one of them. He looked at me thoughtfully, then jumped out of the bin and trotted off down the road. He stopped a few metres away, turned around and sat down to watch me. Shocked I picked up my bag and put it in the second bin. It has a plastic lid. The other has a metal lid that has to be pulled forward to close it. I just didn’t want to disturb his lunch… plus I didn’t want any villagers seeing me looking into a rubbish bin  . As I drove off I saw him in my rear view mirror, trotting back towards his bin to finish whatever was in there.
These Greek stray dogs are survivors!
My husband got back from Bulgaria this evening, so that was an extra incentive to get the house cleaned up. I made him a beef curry and rice, using a vicious chilli sauce Heather made me before Christmas. I have a curry recipe from an Indian friend that uses spices like tumeric, garam masala and coriander as opposed to ready made curry powder. I hate chilli, so I can never gauge how food like curry tastes – it’s all too hot for me! Husband said it was tasty, but not hot enough . I shake my head. Maybe he should take over the cooking. He’s very good at it… only problem is he makes a terrible mess that I have to clean up!
There is no need to do any housework at all. After the first four years the dirt doesn't get any worse.
Quentin Crisp, English writer. 1908 to 1999
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