The views expressed in this article are those of the writer and not necessarily those of Breaking Belize News.
By Lennox Lamb: I did some housework Sunday morning and came away with a dangerous opinion.
I made breakfast, cooked, went shopping, and did the laundry. Somewhere between the washing machine and the dryer, I began wondering whether I should keep my thoughts to myself.
Clearly, I decided against it.
When Grandma said she was washing, she meant washing. Bat pan. Scrubbing board. Bent back. Scrubbing collars, wringing sheets, bleaching whites, hanging clothes in the sun, and keeping one eye on the sky.
Rain coming? Run go pick een di clothes!
Then came folding, ironing, and putting everything away. Grandma could explain her tiredness without saying a word. Just look at her hands.
My washing involved separating clothes and pressing a button. Later, I transferred them to another machine and pressed another button.
I was on my phone while all this happened. Texting. Chatting. Online. The machine never once asked me to put down the phone and help it spin.
Cooking had me thinking too.
Grandma might have started Sunday dinner by catching a chicken that had no intention of becoming Sunday dinner. Then came killing, plucking, cleaning, seasoning—and she still had to get the fire hearth going.
Imagine chasing your main course around the yard before you could even start preparing it.
And the chicken knew the yard better than you.
My chicken was already dead, cleaned, and packed. Whatever disagreement it had about the menu had been settled before I reached the shop.
Between rice cookers, pressure cookers, gas stoves, and slow cookers, those of us with these conveniences have quite a kitchen staff. They don’t collect wages, but BEL certainly sends their bill.
Now, I can already hear somebody saying, “Lennox, da trouble yuh di look fa.”
Only a little. It is Sunday.
But ladies, where the machines have taken over so much of the heavy work, shouldn’t the telling of the hardship change a little too? We cannot keep reaching back for Grandma’s washing-day exhaustion every time a modern machine finishes its cycle.
Grandma earned her tiredness. It wasn’t something she could leave us in her will.
She left you the enamel basin. The exhaustion wasn’t inside it.
And gentlemen, put down the drink before you laugh too hard. I don’t want anybody choking on a Belikin before we reach your part.
If laundry now takes a few buttons, what exactly have we been avoiding all these years?
Some of us can find a football match through three apps, two passwords, and an illegal stream, but suddenly the washing machine is beyond our technical qualifications.
“Which button, babes?”
The one marked START, boss. The same word you’ve been shouting at the television.
We can step up a little.
Of course, not every Belizean household has these appliances. Children still need looking after, and somebody still has to plan, shop, fold, and clean. A machine doesn’t notice that the school uniform is missing.
But in the homes where we have bought all this help, let us give the help some credit—and be honest about the work left for us.
By noon, I was sitting down, wondering what else I needed to do.
I even had time to get an article out before five.
Grandma would probably have told me to stop talking foolishness and go pick een di clothes.
Mine were already dry.
Now, whether anybody will let me back into the house after reading this is another matter.
The post Grandma earned her Tiredness appeared first on Belize News and Opinion on www.breakingbelizenews.com.
The views expressed in this article are those of the writer and not necessarily those of Breaking Belize News. By Lennox Lamb: I did some housework Sunday morning and came away with a dangerous opinion. I made breakfast, cooked, went shopping, and did the laundry. Somewhere between the washing machine and the dryer, I began
The post Grandma earned her Tiredness appeared first on Belize News and Opinion on www.breakingbelizenews.com.
