“Hi I am Steve, I am a publisher, and you?” Is this how strangers meet these days? Aren’t such introductions patented by The Alcoholics Anonymous (Hi I am Steve, I am an alcoholic)? I shifted to Johannesburg, South Africa recently courtesy my husband, a marketer with a MNC (yes, I am a very fast learner!) and as a result, meet new people almost on a daily basis. Thus it is no surprise that I hear myself mouthing the words “I am a housewife” quite often. Ahem ‘HOUSEWIFE’. Yes, that humble and ancient synonym of more widely accepted and even more widely used terms like ‘home maker’ which for some strange reason always makes me think of a household appliance called rice- maker or the more adorable term ‘stay at home mom’ because that would be a blatant lie- we are never home, what with driving the kids to school and fetching them back, rushing from play dates to swimming/karate/soccer classes, hunting for the right pyjama for the story evening or the right costume for Halloween. Many words have strong pictorial associations- like Playboy- Bunny, Marlboro- Cowboy, White vest-Bruce Willis, Bare Chest- Salman Khan, Housewife-...................no crisp clear picture here. What one does usually envision is a demure plain faced woman, modestly dressed, perhaps with a napkin/broom/dish/clothes in her hand, a little tired, a little bored. But it gives me great pleasure to dispel this common yet incorrect notion and paint a whole new picture of the humble housewife albeit of the hybrid variety- the Expat Housewife.
I have reasonably hectic days and the words “coffee mornings” have assumed great relevance in my life. No sooner had I shifted than I started meeting lovely ladies who had been in the profession of being expat wives for periods much longer than I had been in the profession of being even a wife. I was welcomed with open arms into open air cafes and warm camaraderie brewed over umpteen cups of at best warm cappuccinos. I exchanged doing Yoga in the morning to doing coffee now. As a result, my waistline and friendships blossomed at equal pace. But a whole range of clothing has been dedicated to the issues of the waist- the empire waistlines, the wrap around dress, the flared bottom pants- but there is no cure for being lonely. So, coffeeholics anonymous please wait as addicted to coffee I shall stay.
Being a considerably fair (by disposition, not complexion, but that I shall dwell on some other time) and impartial person, I cannot favour one beverage over the other and even moderate patriotism demands that I give equal respect and thus time to our national drink- the tea. So we come to the delectable ‘Tea Parties’. No we don’t have geishas or kimonos or people kneeling in bamboo huts but every once in a while, we do have some Japanese guests. It is one big happy expat family after all. And then there is the plethora of options to choose from- green tea, Chinese green tea, herbal tea, tulsi tea, tulsi and lemon tea, tulsi lemon and ginger tea, Ceylon tea, Assam tea, Darjeeling tea, Earl Grey tea, Rooibos tea, Five Seasons Tea, English Breakfast tea, with sugar, with lemon, with milk, it is almost like a tea encyclopaedia. Amidst all the splendour, which I do relish, my heart does sometimes miss the simple pleasure in saying “bhaiya ek chai” (brother one tea) and getting a standardised steaming hot cup of tea served in a jiffy in my hostel canteen,but then ‘bhaiya’ would have to be a Mensa scholar to manage the above mentioned options!
Human beings are considered to be the most adaptable creatures on earth and as any competitive Indian I have always aimed at being exemplary in this aspect too. It also serves as a very handy personality trait considering my husband’s quest to live in as many cities as possible in one lifetime. So how could I not devote myself to acquiring, developing and fine tuning the taste for wine- which must be the national drink of my current country South Africa. Ever respectful of all cultures, I had to get accustomed to the fact that here almost all activities either start or end with wine.......well to think of it, drinking wine is the primary activity in most cases, the secondary roles are filled by mundane tasks like parent-teacher meetings, visits to national monuments, attending graduation ceremonies or marriages or funerals just to name a few. Even at my new book club, the zeal with which we pick up books that will enlighten, entertain, keep our faculties’ razor sharp, and keep us abreast with the latest in the world around us is only surpassed by our zeal for picking up of long stemmed glasses. We are very inclusive and accommodating bunch of people and welcome all genres from fiction to biographies, chic lit to literature, thrillers to self help, science fiction to management, chardonnay to cabernet sauvignon, rose’ to pinotage, merlot to chenin blanc with open arms and open lips. This certainly has a very exalted place in my quest for Maslow’s highest order i.e. self actualisation and of course I am talking about the books!
Everyone always congratulates my husband on having such an accommodating wife who has sacrificed her career for the welfare of the family. Well, this role does come with its own set of challenges and juggling and choosing amongst so many options is quite a complex task! But I would definitely wonder if anyone still wanted to question why I would choose to be a mere housewife? Thank you dear husband for giving me a house and making me a wife and sorry I will have to end now as I have to rush- it is another hectic morning. Cheers!
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