Just a little respect

(bdnews24.com, January 14, 2011)

It happens more than you would expect. Every now and then the newspapers carry a report on how a ‘domestic worker’ – as they oh-so-politically correctly put it – has been abused by her or his employers. For the most part, these unfortunate individuals tend to be young, distressingly so, and either far from home and family or else abandoned by those who should have been of the most support. They are taken into a household with promises of being provided an education or a means of helping their families survive, but few find any kind of satisfaction in that kind of job well done – most have to live as almost-slaves, deprived of the most basic of child right, like education, food, shelter and stimulation. Many need to deal with the nightmare of physical, emotional and often sexual abuse, accompanied by pain, trauma, horror and that endless feeling of degradation and humiliation. And if questioned, the employees either run away, deny any wrongdoing or insist that the child is theirs, body, soul and mind, to with as they wish.

But is that really possible? Can anyone own anyone else, especially an innocent human who is unaware of what he or she is legally, morally and rightfully entitled to? Does the young person have no say in the matter? Do dreams, hopes, ambitions and beliefs – especially in the integral ‘goodness’ of human nature count for nothing in a world where, essentially, everything can be bought and sold? It seems not. Consider simple instances of how you, me and others like us (to give it a strange kind of classification that goes beyond socio-economic class and stratum) behave with the people that we employ to help us live our admittedly privileged lives. We tend to need a staff to cope with maddening schedules, commutes, comfort, and all else that goes with the trappings that make us busy, hardworking and eventually successful people in today’s highly professional and near-automated world. There is a maid or two, a driver, a laundryman, a vegetable vendor, a grocer, a gardener, a babysitter, a stylist, a tailor, a handyman…the list can be never-ending, depending on the degree of dependence we may have on support outside ourselves and our families. Many of these may be underage, taken on for their low price and easy availability, sent to big cities to find work by their own families in order to swell coffers back home, to find their own way in a world that is hard and poor, to better themselves perhaps, or to find escape from the rigors of a life not wanted and not wanting them. We look for them, find them, interview them, haggle over how much to pay them, hire them and then? Do we really look after them?

‘Look after’ does not always mean treating the employee as your own child – since most of them are mere children. It is about much more – ensuring that their rights as human beings, as individuals, as children are respected. Ensuring that they as those human beings, individuals and children have access to food, shelter and clothing, to opportunities for betterment and advancement, education, healthcare and a viable future. And ensuring that they are safe, live without fear, can face the world as strong and balanced people. How many of us – myself included – manage to do that?

I find it shocking in some instances that my own friends, people I expect to be aware and with active consciences, since they are as highly educated and informed and capable as I am, if not more so, do not seem to believe that the domestic staff they employ are deserving of respect. The same respect that those who employ them enjoy. They may be less advantaged from the social or economic standpoint, but they are no less deserving or entitled. A ‘please’ or a ‘thank you’, small marks of respect and humaneness, is always needed, however menial a task that the worker has been hired to perform. Speaking politely is just the start; there is always more – being aware of the need for a break in routine, a need for warmth when the weather turns cold, a need for food when it comes time for a meal, a need for rest when a long day’s work is done. Most of all, a need for compassion, healing, caring, involvement, an assurance that they are not alone, not abandoned, not un-respected. How much effort does it take for a smile, a sharing of a snack, a consciousness of right over wrong?

It makes sense to me to see that my own maid is comfortable, is not unwell, is properly fed and clothed, is safe, is happy. A smile in her face brings a certain joy into my household for the hour or so that she is within it. And the sense of caring and involvement that she gets from me gives her and me the assurance that she will stay with me and give of her best as long as she is able. She laughs, talks, jokes, even yells at me when I do not give her what she wants – which is usually the right detergent to wash the marble tile of the floor, the perfect scrub for those non-stick pans, the right to bring me onions from the factory she works at even while onion prices shoot through the proverbial roof.

All that, to me, is worth so much more than having someone under my thumb, slave to my whims and fancies, someone who works for me rather than with me to keep my life ticking along smoothly.