The Madams. Zukiswa Wanner

Pertunia and we can go for tea over there.’

      Ja ja ja. I didn’t want a blow-by-blow account of her day, I just wanted her not to mess up my house. So I thanked her for making dinner, told her that was not one of her duties since Mandla and I preferred to cook for ourselves, and that anyway I had brought Chinese home. ‘I have left the food for you, why don’t you come by and get it so you won’t need to cook tomorrow?’ I added, thinking to myself that my maid almost made Siz seem like a good cook. Almost, but not quite. Why couldn’t she be more like Pertunia, who was as gourmet a chef as a maid can ever be?

      When she came into the house to get her boiled ribs and half-cooked rice, I gave her blow-by-blow instructions on how to mop the floor. Can you believe having to teach a thirty-five-year-old woman such a fundamental? Damn, and I thought madamhood was going to be easy. Men never seem to straighten maids out in any home situation, and this always makes madams look like queen bitches. It makes me wonder, are maids a male conspiracy to destroy female camaraderie?