I know, I know, you're like she has a maid and she's complaining? That bitch! Trust me, I know how it sounds snobby, pretentious, entitled and The Real Housewives of Rabat-ish. And I'm not complaining, so much as explaining how weird it is to have someone else in your home that you pay to do all the things you normally do. And this isn't even something I chose to do. It's an expectation here. I am very capable of cleaning my house. Not that I would clean it because I'm lazy. But, personally, I'm perfectly content with filthy disarray. And, I have 4 kids who I prefer, clean up their own damn messes. While I assure you I won't clean up their crap, it's extremely hard to explain to someone you pay to clean up why you don't actually want them to. This is even more confusing because my maid and I don't speak the same language. Not any language. Except charades. Which technically, isn't a language.
These are the working women on the street corner in Rabat. No. Not that kind of working woman. No, they are maids in waiting. You can find them every day of the week in Agdal sandwiched between the gym where I take belly dance classes and the pork lady. They are waiting for work. The best work for a maid is with foreigners who pay almost double what Moroccans do. (That is just what I heard and I can't actually vouch that that is accurate.) But, I do know these women will work for a day or a week. Or anytime, so much as it's work to feed their family. And while you'll find Moroccan women sitting on the curb, you'll see far more Moroccan men sitting in cafes. See, it's Moroccan women who bring in the
Oh, I forgot to tell you the most important thing about my maid. He's a man, baby! Yes, in a very male dominant, dare I say, machismo culture, I have a man washing my dishes. Is this common you ask? Hell no! I don't know anyone else who has a man-maid, except the woman I share him with. Which makes it a very polyandrous kinda relationship. But all three of us are fine with that. She has him Tuesdays and Thursdays and he chops her veggies and walks her dog. I have him Monday, Wednesday and Friday and he cleans my toilets and I try to get him NOT to pick up the legos that the boys left all over the floor. (This is a bigger challenge than it may seem and there are lots of charades involved...)
So, when my friend was looking for a place to have exercise class twice a week, I volunteered my house. And as the ladies gathered at my house in their shorts and tank tops ready for dance class I remembered that I forgot to charade Mohammed, that the house has now become the new Slim and Tone of the Embassy circuit. Oh crap! Would this humble man and father of 5, be timid and embarrassed to see such a brazen display of scantily clad (by Moroccan standards, anyway) women? So while a room full of women moved like Jagger, he took his mop and bucket upstairs and that man made the biggest smile of his life. Being a man maid has its benefits.
