The Help versus Helpers

My good friend G.A. (initials used to protect the innocent) was recently able to visit me on my trip to PDX with the rents.  She brought her partner and new babe – what a treat.  She usually makes some deep statements about life that keep me thinking long after our get together and this was no exception.  She described that she had been at a wedding where her friend, the bride, greeted the catering staff with an exclamation, “Thank god THE HELP is here!”  And G.A. made the distinction for me that I think is useful.  When you refer to the catering staff as “The Help,” you de-humanize them.  Yes, the staff people are HELPERS, as in people you employ to help accomplish tasks.  But THE HELP is a noun, a thing, disposable, unfeeling.  G.A. nails it again!

Today my HELPER, Lydiah, started working for us.  She will primarily watch Jonah during the day, while I try to retrieve my brain from the recesses of motherhood, sleep deprivation, and the challenges of moving.  She will do some light housekeeping too so that our house can stay in order.  I feel so blessed to be able to hire someone to help at this moment. 

This process of hiring Lydiah was my chief concern before moving to Nairobi.  I had joined a “Nairobi Mums” group prior to our arrival and watched as mother after mother complained about their househelpers.  One woman complained that her DM (domestic manager) was bathing her LO (little one) outside in the cold.  (Yes, it gets cold her in Nairobi.)  Another complained that her helper wanted more than her allotted 2 days off per month.  Yikes!  Others told stories of botched abortions or extremely low pay.  I was not excited about the prospect of managing a helper with these kinds of stories.  But we found Lydiah through a network from the American Embassy.  She has 20 years of experience working with expats and rave reviews from her most recent post.  She’s been here only 3 hours and I’m already quite pleased with how this relationship is working.

By the end of the week, we will go to the local grocery so I can make sure to stock the house with tea and food that suits her, as I certainly cannot have someone go hungry in my house.  I’m still a Jewish mother, after all.