Zimpapers Logo

Lenox Lizwi Mhlanga

At face value, the title of this week’s piece can be misleading. The males would think I am making reference to beauty and other anatomical attributes, sadly, no. Read on in order to keep your male hormones in check.

Occasionally, one comes across one of those incredible stories in B-Metro of the maid who stole the husband, which is a direct translation from SiNdebele as you can read. But we are far from debating semantics here. We are dealing with a real and very emotional issue here.

Wives are standing on their toes (another literal translation) as the help makes a spectacular transformation from serf to chef.  All at her former boss’s expense, of course! But that is not the whole issue.

The question on every woman’s lips is; where have all the good maids gone?

The last one we employed lasted exactly two months, two weeks, four days, five hours, 20 minutes and 45 seconds. This is in itself a record. The one before her lasted less than two weeks. None of them were pretty by all standards.

Gone are the days when you could have a maid for life. As I was growing up, I fell under the keep of exactly three maids. That gives you a good idea of their staying power. Two of them died in office. Too much of the good life can also be deadly. They were treated as part of the family.

In spite of the fact that they ran the household with an iron fist, I will be the first to admit that they were good. This partially explains why my mother kept them for so long.

At that time they were known as domestic servants. We called them osisi — literally, our sisters. Their brief was simple and straight forward; clean the house, do the laundry, cook the food and knock us spoiled brats into shape.

Nowadays they are referred to as Domestic Workers and the capital letters are by design. It’s called political correctness. They are so educated, that you can hardly tell them anything.

They are ready to rebuff you with something called ‘‘Rights” that seems to instil the fear of God into any employer. Just try sneaking in any semblance of work to them and they tell you, “Ende mina ama-RIGHTS amingiyawazi, fethu!” (Mina I know what my rights are, Mister!)

Employers celebrate when a domestic decides to hit the road of her own volition. The Labour Act is so tight that it takes you going as far as the Constitutional Court just to fire your maid or anyone for that matter.

So the easy way out is to hire unkazana (Girlie) fresh from the sticks, preferably a relative. The problem is that they get clever rather too quickly, usually because of too much television or the garden boy, or both.

I understand the logic of employing relatives. There are a lot of risks in taking in a total stranger and entrust her with the custody of your children and precious property.

Take it from me, relatives are the worst. When they have had a feel of city life, they are more likely to disappear with your prized possessions, to e-Ndaminya (Joburg), usually with the garden boy as well.

The general rule is that the wife chooses and interviews the maid, who is invariably female. It has to be the boss of the house otherwise men are tempted to use other criteria that have little to do with domestic chores.

The message is very clear, keep your hands off the maid, or else. However, some men never listen. And this explains why some maids never last, particularly if they look like Miss Zimbabwe. The wife ensures that she employs the Ogre of Westphalia if not just to preserve her marriage.

I referred to risks associated with employing maids. The moment you disappear round the corner on your way to work, the party begins.

How do you ensure that the maid puts in a decent day’s work while you are away?

You just can’t! Out from the woodwork come their relatives, friends and boyfriends. Sad to say, the marital bed becomes a trampoline and the DVD collection takes a walk. Groceries and utensils never last the month and the maid becomes fatter than the whole family and the neighbours combined.

If yours is a quest to seek the perfect maid, then I will sooner show you the eye of a louse (more literal translations). The truth is that a good maid is a myth. Just pray that they will last the distance without fleeing with your prized flat screen, wardrobe or worse (or better) still, your husband.