Terrorism Unveiled
Commentary on the War on Terror from the perspective of a college undergrad studying national security and Arabic.
Shiranti
By Athena on Stories from Jordan
If you follow my posts, you've certainly heard me mention Shiranti, the "maid" who lived and worked at my house in Amman. She wasn't treated all that well (but not necessarily bad) by my host family. She and I would love it when the parents would tell us they were going out to, because that meant we could eat dinner together at the house, watch movies and sit around and talk. We couldn't really socialize in front of the host mother and father, they didn't condone it. These nights she'd make spaghetti and I'd let her get on the internet and I'd find newspapers written in Sri Lankan (she's from there) and she'd love to see pictures of her home country.
I want to tell you a story about Shiranti, and one night when we broke the rules of the house, one night that she tells me she'll never forget, even when she's an "old woman and in Sri Lanka."
I returned home from class around 5pm and only Shiranti was at home. I asked her where "Sir and Madam" were and she said they went to visit family to break the fast and hang out for Ramadan. Usually when they left, they would be gone until at least 11pm, sometimes staying out as late as 2pm while smoking narguila, playing cards and talking. I asked her when she expected them back and she told me "at least 11 pm because they told me to make sure the doors were locked once you went to bed."
I had been invited out to dinner with some of my classmates and my professor at the Howard Johnson hotel (a lot of the nice restaurants are in hotels) and I got to thinking that this might be my perfect chance to take Shiranti out on the town. She is not allowed to leave the house under any circumstances. This is part of her contract and it is strictly enforced. She gets only one afternoon off per month when she gets to visit with her aunt, and maybe then, she is allowed to go downtown for a few hours.
I decided to risk it. I doubted the parents would come home before 11 anyway, and we would make sure we were back by 9pm. I was leaving the next day, moving out to my new apartment and this would be our last night together, so I told her to get dressed. She got really excited so we both got dressed. I asked her if she was worried and she pulled out a picture of Jesus from her back pocket and said, "No, Jesus will take care of us."
I had my luggage packed and I had the perfect cover story: If the parents were to come home while we were gone, I'd say that I had asked Shiranti to help me carry my bags to my new apartment and to help me "clean" up the place before all the girls moved in the next day. Also, it was night, and I didn't want to walk down to the road alone, so I had asked Shiranti to come along. I didn't know if this would work, because I knew she wasn't to leave the house, and I knew this meant even with me. They never gave me any indication I could "borrow" her. But it sure sounded better than nothing.
So I called my favorite cab driver, Ammar, and he came and picked us up. We went to dinner and I thought my professor would fall out of the chair when she saw that I had brought Shiranti along. She was surprised I brought her because she knew the ramifications as well. But we had a good time, we were both a little nervous that the parents would be home, but it was good to be out and sit with everyone else, finally like she was equal to those surrounding her, and not a servant. I still remembered what we ordered. We had eaten dinner earlier in the night, so we got dessert. We both had strawberry crepes...they were delicious.
After dinner, I needed to drop my luggage off at my apartment, to make our story even more real, and because they really would be a lot for me to carry the next day. So we went by the apartment, stayed about 10 minutes, then she said she wanted to go on back because it was 8pm.
I lived in the neighborhood of Dabook, which is quite a ways out from the more central areas of Amman, so we began our trip back. I started thinking of contingency plans. What if my families white Mercedes was parked in the driveway when we arrived at the house? I figured it wasn't because I hadn't received any hysterical phone calls from my host-mom asking where Shiranti was.
We pulled up and we both felt our stomachs drop. Shiranti started crying and screaming "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!" hysterically. The white car was there, it was like a great white omen. I could only be in so much trouble, afterall I was leaving the next day and I was a "guest" in their house....but she, she could've been fired and been in deep trouble.
I told her, "Shiranti, get out of the car, you have to get out, you're going to walk right up the stairs with me and we're going to tell them exactly what we did, we went and got some dessert, and you helped me clean the apartment." She refused. She would not go up their with me. She had brought along her old clothes just in case (she was dressed up really nice--black pants, nice rose-colored turtleneck and black shoes), and she started changing her clothes right outside.
I went up the stairs, with butterflies in my stomach, afraid to face the family because I just knew it was going to be serious trouble. I walked in and stuttered out a hello and the host mom was very normal acting, and the host father wasn't there. I heard Shiranti come up the steps behind me, so I knew I had to divert the mother's attention, so I went into the kitchen and she followed me to ask me about my night. It seemed like forever I tried diverting her attention--I started asking about certain spices in the cabinet--anything to try to make it where she didn't turn her head just slightly to see Shiranti running across the living room. I heard slight pitter-patter steps, and I knew Shiranti had come in.
After this, I went to my room, shaking almost, thinking..."where is the host father, is he out looking for her? is he at the police station maybe?" I also thought, "why is the host mother acting normal? does she know but she's afraid to bring up the subject of Shiranti being missing?"
This house is large, but it's not large enough to miss a whole person in it. Especially when they depend on Shiranti for everything. The living room is a few steps from the kitchen, but they call her to bring them a glass of water and tea, rather than get up themselves.
I called all my friends, told them the situation and asking them what they thought of it. Nobody knew what to tell me other than to just wait it out. 30 minutes later, Shiranti emerges from her room, hair all messed up, acting as if she's yawning.
Before we had left, Shiranti fluffed up her pallet (she does not sleep in the bed in her bedroom, rather she has to sleep on the floor) and she put pillows under it to make it look like her body. She even turned the lights off in the room, figuring if they came home and opened the door that they would think she was asleep. I figured it would never fly since she would never go to bed at 7pm.
Well, Shiranti emerges and the host mother says, "Oh hello Shiranti, are you sick? I opened the door earlier and saw you were laying down so I figured you didn't feel well."
She replied, "Yes, Madam, I had a headache" then she shot me a smirk and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The host dad came home, he just stayed later playing cards. The mom asked me who all went out to dinner and I didn't mention Shiranti.
Later that night, Shiranti came into my room. She used to the excuse of serving me tea. While she was giving it to me she told me, "Thank you, I'll never forget this night and I'll never forget you, even when I'm an old woman and in Sri Lanka." What she did and said next moved me to tears, I'll never forget. It made me think of how I have so little faith sometimes, but it inspired me.
She pulled out that same picture of Jesus and with the utmost conviction she said, "See, I told you Jesus wouldn't let anything happen to us." |
