I sleep with my dogs by choice

So, I guess I’ve been a bit of a downer as far as portraying the ills of South African poverty– but just one more, and then I promise to make the next one more uplifting!
So, yesterday we had the pleasure of sitting down with the leaders of the a union of domestic workers- the same ones whose party we went to the other day where they celebrated the passing of the ILO convention on domestic worker’s rights.  Even those these women are the leaders of the union, they’ve had a a tough life- a testament to the true divisions that apartheid enforced between white and black communities (technically, these women are considered “colored,” not black- but that’s a whole different discussion).  One woman that really touched me said she came from a rural area and began domestic work in rich white households at the age of 9.  For more than 15 years, she was with a family that allowed her to sleep on the floor of their kitchen with a blanket where the dog was kept.  She would sleep close to the husky every night just for warmth, because there was no heat, and only the one blanket.  This woman raised all of their children, and sent all of her money home to ensure that her brothers and sisters would be cared for.  Just the other day, one of the union leaders discovered that the domestic worker in the house next to where she works was digging through the trash because the family where she’s live-in help doesn’t allow her to eat their leftovers.  They don’t like her digging through the trash, so they started hiding the food in wrapped paper.  Hester saw her and made her food from her own “madam’s” house, so that she would have something good to eat.  Even after living with these families for ages, and raising all of their children for them, and taking care of whatever guests they might have, the families don’t seem to recognize them as human.  They were given separate plates and spoons to eat from, which were kept in the closet with the pet food.  One woman that we drove home from the meeting was saying that she’s not allowed to turn the heater on in her room because her madam doesn’t want to pay for the electricity- mind you, these people are rich enough to live in mansions, but don’t want to spend the extra money for a small space heater.  Somehow, through it all, Hester and Myrtle have pushed through and fought for fair working conditions- from getting higher standard pay (which is not enforceable) to other aspects of unionizing, they’ve forged a movement from the tiny maid’s quarters where they live in each house.  We toured several different houses in the area, with the domestic workers letting us see their area and the main house.  These women serve as a front line security system- often in the big houses, it is their job to lock the family in the upper floor of the house, before they walk around in the dark and check all the locks and manage the ADT security system.  Often domestic workers are murdered by robbers who break through the first line of defense- the fence or alarm system, and kill the maid to get in and steal the TVs or whatever is downstairs.  They’re incredibly vulnerable.  In addition, as part of their contract, they’re not allowed to go out- pretty much ever- and so they never marry and end up just sending money home for children they might have or nieces and nephews.  It’s a lonely existence.  At one point, Myrtle told us that she’s never been hugged by a white person before, until my professor began bringing students from America.  These women are integral parts of these rich, white families lives, but aren’t given any kind of acknowledgment for the roles that they’ve led.
It’s not a happy story, and it’s still going on today (as hard as that is to believe!).  The domestic worker I mentioned earlier was devastated when the husky died and she had to sleep alone…I can’t even imagine.  Thankfully, I’m lucky enough to be able to choose to sleep with my dogs.  I’ll remember her for sure the next time I’m snuggled up to a tiny chihuahua in my comfy bed.  People should never be treated that way- it’s inhumane and I can’t understand the coldness in their hearts that allows them to ignore the ghosts that walk among them- washing their underwear and ensuring the proper upbringing of their children.
Happy one next time- I promise…