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Episode 5: We Meet At Last
Mabel set up office on the veranda. She wasn't going to work indoors. The rat was in there. What if it showed up on video during her zoom meetings? If clients thought she was rat-infested that might affect her price.
She dealt with the sort of client who was easily influenced by what they saw on the little corner of the screen, which is why she had a business jacket and white blouse on, as well as her Jessica Pearson wig. Jessica Pearson, for those of you who not in class, is a high-achiever, no-nonsense, powerhorse lawyer from a hit TV series who wears her hair in a manner that makes her look like Jessica Pearson. Mabel had found a small shop in Wandegeya, a brother and sister who wanted to sell woven art baskets from sisal and banana fibre, and made a deal with them.
They were able to recreate whatever wig Jessica Pearson was wearing in that week’s episode and make it look convincing enough for a small zoom screen.
If you want to know more about Jessica Pearson, consult wikipedia. This story is about the Ugandan Girl Child GC, not Ms Pearson.
Mabel had set up her laptop and desk on the veranda. She had enough makeup on for Zoom camera, so the part that was visible to the meeting was stern and serious. The rest, under the desk was, of course, sweatpants and crocs.
Then a sudden interruption. Not from a brush of rat fur on her feet, as she had feared. It was boda boda brakes suddenly screeching to a halt, followed by the rattle of the gate, and then, as if the three sounds were just different parts of the same symphony, a long call of, “Yooooooooo!” brought in the crescendo.
It was a long “Yo,” and it continued all the way from the gate to the veranda. It came from GC straight from the stenseni. Mabel wondered why 90’s R&B star Aaliyah with a shirt that had Hillfiger misspelt on it was wandering into her compound saying yo in an accent that was a rare blend of Ganda and Ankole.
She didn’t know about the edge of Lyantonde and the way the village of Ggwa mixed itself around.
GC’s head, as it yoooooed, was swivelling like drone cameras, up and down, left and right, taking in the view of the yard, the elegance of the architecture and landscaping.
The yooooo was the soundtrack to a feeling of being very impressed.
Over the years the family had lived there, and their fortunes improved, they had also pimped up the yard. They got a landscaper in 2012, when the Ugandan economy began to include landscaping as an industry and the yard was paved by a person who had seen Pixar films set in Italy and admired the places the cartoons walked through. We had the elegant hexagonal brick tiles, we had manicured bushes with fluffy leaves glowing green and the lawn had expensive grass from football fields, not the free grass you find outside. It looked nice.
And this was even before you took in the house, which we don’t need to explain. Think of the kind of house you find in a compound like that. Just two more closets and it would be a mansion as we won’t tire of repeating.
“Yooooooo,” said the visitor. She did a little spin to take it all in.
She walked up to the veranda where Mabel was watching, curious as to who and what. But before Mabel could get the beginning of the traditional “Hello, can I help you,” GC began what was not to end for a loong time.
GC: This is Eastwood, Number B4? Good. It’s the right place. Hi. I’m GC. First of all, let me say, without wasting time, that I like it. I like the layout, I like the ambience, I like the overall arrangement. It is very important that you have a good feeling before you start. The Japanese have a saying for it.
They call it Fing Shwi. I know I have pronounced it wrong, but it’s okay. I’m sure they don’t pronounce Ugandan concepts accurately either. I won’t be mad if I heard a Japanese person say obulungi bwensi in a Kyoto accent. Oooh, I notice you have the business suit top but sweatpants and crocs under the table. Zoom meeting, yeah? I'm interrupting. I won’t take too much of your time, then. Let me say quickly and let you get back to your meeting. Now, I understand you are looking for a maid. Let me make this brief. Um… I am going to guess. Two floors so… three bedrooms, maybe four? I can work with that. The size of the building doesn’t really deter me. I’m a professional. But first I have to ask a few questions…
The whole time Mabel had not heard the girl pause, not even for breath. Mabel just discovered that her “hello, how can I help you,” was still in her throat. It had stopped climbing in the face of the girls' onslaught.
The girl stepped up to the veranda. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder that she dropped to the ground. She whipped out a notebook and pen and just before Mabel could finally get a word out, relaunched.
GC: So, are you happily married or is there a husband who will try to disturb-disturb me?
Before Mabel could reply, the girl gave her a quick look-over and answered herself.
GC: Nah. You are hot and you work from home. That means the husband will behave. It's the husbands of career women who like trying to quence on the maid.
With a flourish she ticked that item off the list in her book.
GC: Next question, Are there any children? Small ones, especially, are a dealbreaker.
Again, she answered herself
GC: No children. Otherwise I would hear them. Sqeeeeee! Squeeeeee! It's not that I don't like kids, Just that I can't stand them. Okay….
And here she GC clapped the book shut, reached into her bag and drew out a leso and headscarf. She began to wrap them around her Aaliyah couture.
GC: I am going to need wifi and I get off duty at nine pm. I'm sure that is acceptable. Three days off each month. Can be six half-days. Negotiable.
She tucked the headwrap in.
Mabel finally got a sound out. But it was just “Um…” It didn’t go beyond that.
Mabel: Um…
GC: This compound, though, sweeping and all that, feeding the flowers na biki, that is for the askari. My jurisdiction is inside only.
Mabel found a word to get in edgewise.
Mabel: Yeah. Asakri sweeps the…
The girl grabbed Mabel’s hand and shook it.
GC: Then congratulations. You've got a maid.
Then she picked up her bag and swished into the house.
This was when Mabel began to recover from her stunned state. Her faculties were returning and resettling and realisation was dawning. Who was this strange woman who just walks up, yaps up a small storm, and hires herself? She had to get an explanation. But that is when her thoughts were interrupted, again, by the girl's voice from indoors.
Indoors GC: Eh! Bambe, what? You guys are doing badly! I have not seen such a mess since I was in prison. Hold on. Is that a rat?
Mabel paused when she heard mention of her nemesis, the rat.
GC: Let me deal with this rat. And then I’ll find her boyfriend and handle him. Don’t worry.
Mabel stopped. She was not going into the house with the rat inside. And now that there was someone offering to deal with it, she could wait and see how this panned out.
There followed three hard whack sounds and two squeaks. Mabel winced with each squeak. Then there were three more whacks and... silence.
Silence. This would have been the time for Mabel to finally get in and make known her objections about strangers just storming into her house just like that, then she paused. Maybe Papso had sent her. She picked up the phone and tapped.
Mabel: Dude, did you hire a maid or is there a mad woman in my house?
Papso: Silence.
Mabel: Did you hear me?
Papso: I heard you. I was just wondering how you can call me from home and ask me if there is a mad woman in the house and expect me to resist.
Mabel, sighed, realising it was her fault for choosing those words.
Mabel: Okay. Go ahead.
Papso: A mad woman in the house? Apart from you? Hahahaha! Hahahahahaha! Haaaaaaaa…
Mabel: Finish laughing quickly and answer my question.
Papso: First wait. I’m almost done. Hahahahahaahhha. Whooooh. Eh. Ooowaye. That I hear mad woman. You are the only mad woman I left in that house! Haaahahhahah! Whew. Okay. I’ve finished. Finished. What was the question again? Maid? No, I didn't hire anyone. I just gave the speaker guy the kalango how you said. Has someone responded to the advert?
Mabel: There's a kagirl who brought herself. She just showed up and said she is now our maid.
Papso: Nah. I didn't hire anyone. What did you tell her when she came?
Mabel: Aate talk to her? Dude, she walked in jazzing and yapping non-stop like like Ryan Reynolds doing a Busta Rhymes song, but with this accent which was like as if as if and she basically bulldozed her way in. Let me recover.
Mabel was still getting her senses back. It was as if she was rising from a hypnotic state. Maybe that was it. The accent. An accent that was so Ugandan because it was actually two Ugandan accents, but it was speaking Americanisms straight from a Kardashian boudoir. And the way the girl dropped Ls for Rs at random moments and didn't bother to pick them up again just made it cooler.
The net result was like listening to a very inventive jazz hip hop fusion DJ. That must be it. Hypnosis. Or just sheer audacity.
Mabel: Let me talk to her and I call you back.
Mabel then did how they do in movies and just hung up without saying bye, so she didn’t hear the rest.
Papso: You mean you had not talked to her? Mebz, who is this woman?
Mabel’s full senses had finally returned and reappraised her of the situation. Some Aaliyah chick had just walked up and, using the vocal version of the Jessica Pearson wig, mesmerised her into letting her into the house and, had then given herself a job. This would not do. No way. Not Mabel. She steeled herself for conflict and entered the house.
It's not possible to describe GC’s work to you. Imagine how difficult it is for a quantum astrophysicist to explain the theory of entanglement and relativistic time dilation at near-light speed to the bioengineer who just synthesized a hybrid with integrated biosynthetic neural networks. They are both extremely clever people but they won't understand.
There are some things you can't understand until you see them yourself.
GC’s work technique was one of those.
She started with a rapid assessment of tasks, a quick prioritisation pyramid, a reading of lengths and widths to determine how to minimise motion and energy while achieving quickest results. Simultaneously, she was making estimates of weight and volume of what needed to be moved and where. This was a split-second’s gaze. Then she got moving. If you are able to imagine a shaolin kung fu master expertly dispatching dozens of foes without breaking a sweat, you are a quarter of the way to conceiving how agile, acrobatic and fast GC was.
Mabel had been outside making her phone call to Papso, then she got back to the Zoom to make some excuses to leave for a bit, then she side-barred Olya in Kiev to confirm whether at any point her sweatpants had been visible on the feed or if she had turned video off and muted in time, then she had taken a yoga breath, in and out. Then she stomped to the door and slammed it open.
And the words, “I don't know who you think you are but you don't just enter my…” froze, melted, vaporised and dissipated because, right before her was a perfect, pristine, spotless living room. Not a crumb of trash, not a flake of junk. Every piece of furniture was perfectly placed. If the carpet had the ability to gleam it would have.
Mabel fell right back to speechlessness. She had forgotten how nice their home was. In two decades of infants, then toddlers, then brats, then teenagers, then after-teens, you get used to a house in some state of disarray. Even when Zabeti had cleaned up, the home never had the full undisturbed elegance it promised. But now it gleamed. How had this girl done it? And so fast? How had she transformed the landfill their living room and dining room had been into this? And it smelled nice, too. Woodsy and earthy and tranquil. Mabel fell into a daze of joyful surprise.
GC appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand.
GC: And the rats? Cremated. Si ku the bodies bringing flies.
Mabel: You are a Godsend.
GC: You know His ways. Mysterious.
Mabel needed to get the full sense of a clean house. She hopped onto the sofa.
Mabel: I don't remember the last time I did that without the fear of something pinching my bum!”
GC: I am very good at this.”
Mabel: I was just about to say that.
GC: Of course you were. What else was there to say? So, let me bring the contract and let's consummate this.
Mabel sank into the soft cushions, revelling in the fact that she no longer had to worry that troops of ants would climb out of the cracks and start a war on the upholstery. Perhaps she could take a nap.
Mabel was drifting into her daydream when GC interrupted with a sheaf of papers.
GC: Just initial each page and sign here.
Mabel: I don't even smell any rotting leftovers. Mabel said, taking the papers, flicking GC’s pen over the pages.
She didn’t even stop to read them. Not even to glance at the fine print. GC smiled to herself. She had them just where she wanted them.
