Aunty, the hired cook and cleaning lady for the house does not speak English but is easily the hardest worker in the organization. She also makes the least amount of money. One night while talking on the phone I missed dinner. Disappointed, I took myself out for a walk to try and forget my growling stomach and stem the emerging pity party. When I went back inside later I found on my bedroom floor, three boiled eggs that she had made for me. My attitude completely changed. Later, through a translator, I learned Aunty has children: two girls aged 9 and 6. They live a two hour bus ride away and she can only afford to visit them on Christmas and Easter. The total cost of seeing them is 40,000 shillings ($20).
Today was Women’s Celebration Day and I spent the day coordinating an event for 150 people while aunty had to unexpectedly cook dinner for the house, even though the men were supposed to take over her duties for this meal. She sat down on the couch, looking exhausted and slumped to one side. “Poor Aunty,” I said, looking at her. I hoped my intonation of the words conveyed my meaning. Then I got up, grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around her and dished her up a plate a food. Other days we wash dishes or the floors side by side, often I feel like Snow White as the chickens, ducks and turkeys crowd around us to play in the water and the dishes, plucking at shreds of rice. Often Aunty will look at me doing my laundry and come over and show me how to do it properly. One afternoon while helping her make dinner I dropped a potato on the ground, twice, expecting her to gruffly grab it from me, she merely smiled and washed it off. Sometimes we will just sit together, not saying anything or painting each other’s nails, just enjoying a silence filled with each other’s presence. Aunty and I have never had a conversation, but we take care of each other, and that’s all the communication I need.
Today was Women’s Celebration Day and I spent the day coordinating an event for 150 people while aunty had to unexpectedly cook dinner for the house, even though the men were supposed to take over her duties for this meal. She sat down on the couch, looking exhausted and slumped to one side. “Poor Aunty,” I said, looking at her. I hoped my intonation of the words conveyed my meaning. Then I got up, grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around her and dished her up a plate a food. Other days we wash dishes or the floors side by side, often I feel like Snow White as the chickens, ducks and turkeys crowd around us to play in the water and the dishes, plucking at shreds of rice. Often Aunty will look at me doing my laundry and come over and show me how to do it properly. One afternoon while helping her make dinner I dropped a potato on the ground, twice, expecting her to gruffly grab it from me, she merely smiled and washed it off. Sometimes we will just sit together, not saying anything or painting each other’s nails, just enjoying a silence filled with each other’s presence. Aunty and I have never had a conversation, but we take care of each other, and that’s all the communication I need.
Recently she asked Carolyn to ask me if I could help her secure funding for one of her daughters education, three semesters of school and scholastic materials for the year would cost $300 (600,000 shillings). As a student that’s not pocket change for me but I am thinking about fundraising and fair trade initiatives, if you are interested in helping her youngest daughter have an education, either by contributing financially or holding a fundraising event in your community with a leadership team or interested group, please let me know.
I like Aunty. She's looking after my girl. I will help you look after hers. Moosmas
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