On Servants
I’ve never been totally comfortable with ideas of a servant staff. I know it’s polite to call them “help,” but let’s face it, they are servants. When I hear about rich celebrities in California hiring illegal Mexican workers, I feel the same way. I understand that they come to America for a better life, they are very hardworking, and deserve to make more money than they would south of the border. And unlike how they’re portrayed, the vast majority of them don’t commit crimes, and I think on average commit less crimes than other poor people around them born in America (most of the drug cartels and narco-terrorists operate out of Mexico and other Latin American countries, and most Latinos in America are not only not in gangs, but many are now upwardly mobile and entering white collar professions). Race-baiting against immigrants is an old tradition for American nationalists, and while the current rate of illegal immigration surely has negative economic repercussions for America as a whole, we should rationally analyze the push-pull factors instead of taking our frustrations out on Mexican families, especially children settled in America who didn’t even have a choice in the matter of this illegal entry. And the problem would be nipped in the bud if companies and estates were punished for hiring illegal workers to begin with.
So I came to Pakistan with the emotional baggage of liberal white guilt. Here I am, born in the richest and most powerful country in the world, in one of the wealthiest regions of the country. When I go abroad, wittingly or not, I am the face of it. And now I’m in a poor country or, rather, a country that is highly stratified with a huge divide between the elite (who pay no taxes), a squeezed middle class, and millions living in real, abject poverty. Seeing servant staff reminds of poor immigrant Mexicans, the differences of class and power in America, and the difference between America and its southern neighbor which, by all rights, has the means to be doing much better. It’s like going back in time – feudal times (to some Americans it might even sound like a fairy tale – like I live in a castle, but I can assure you it’s not so romantic).
I was raised in a middle class family, and taught to do my own chores, work hard, and not be a burden on others. I was taught to clean up my own messes, and accept the responsibility for my actions. And I wouldn’t want it any other way!
The idea of paying someone to do something I could do myself, as convenient as it is, is anathema to the Protestant work ethic mindset instilled in me. Always being onguard against the personal tendency towards sloth, wasting time (which is also money), and unproductiveness, it’s a sin to let work go by and put it on the lap of others. Or so I was taught.
On the other hand, having a servant staff is a status symbol. But it should be reserved for those who earned their wealth through hard work. I didn’t. I just happened to be married to a girl who has a home with that setup. Of course it’s convenient, and it makes it much easier for me to help take care of her (and our) needs. But I still question whether I have the right to enjoy this privilege. Have I earned it? Yet, by living in Pakistan, is it feasible or practical to function without it?
Yes, I understand that uneducated Pakistanis, or those with little education, need jobs, and this is better than them living on street as beggars. They are not slaves – they get a salary. And they can quit and go to another household, which they often do.
But I also want them to be educated, especially children. Children should only be focused on going to school, not doing house labor for the upper class family they live with. Why should they have to serve, just because of the situation they were born into? Why should others get the privilege of being served, just because of the family they were born into?
So my way of coping has been to treat them as nicely as possible, and to do things I can easily do myself. That strategy has had mixed results at best.
Sometimes it does get me more respect, but at times less so. Like the time, before I was given a house key, I was outside, on a walk, on a hot day. I knocked on the door and rang the bell, as I always did, and the whole family was outside, and saw/heard me. They knew I was stuck there. I asked repeatedly, in three languages (all of which they understood) to let me in, and just stared at me. I eventually got so tired of waiting in the hot sun that I just scaled the wall and climbed in, causing them to laugh at me.
That’s when I first noticed the passive-aggressive attitude. Not doing things that were asked of them, or lying and saying they did when they didn’t, or repeating errors on simple tasks, became routine. My experience with drivers, who again and again undermined me at my jobs and elsewhere, was even worse. I learned that it wasn’t just due to cultural differences, or language barriers.
I’ve never hit them, as that’s unthinkable to me, even though that does happen. I’ve rarely lost my temper, though shamefully, but at times I have. I generally don’t yell or bark instructions. I go out of my way to be polite, and would not ask for favors unless I think I’m not able to do it myself. And yet, I often wouldn’t get results unless I “told” on the staff for not doing things (and even then, I wasn’t always supported). And never mind all the items that were stolen from me, which was blamed on me, rather than them.
And then I realized that maybe it was due to me being perceived as “weak.” As an American, or someone in upper class circles, most of the “respect” comes from being feared, not necessarily being liked or admired, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen when I moved to Pakistan.
Rather than feeling touched by gestures reflecting empathy, the attitude is – let’s take advantage of the naïve American. Instead of cooperating because of a felt sense of solidarity, they wait to their chance to get revenge at one of the big men who control their lives.
And what is the perception of the two country’s relationship? What is Pakistan, to Pakistanis, if not just a “servant” of America? Its people feel humiliated at how their corrupt leaders grovel up to America, so for many, the servitude is unwilling (and even the grovelers resent it). Since so few Americans come here, and even fewer are willing to humble themselves, except for token gestures, by actually living with Pakistanis, my move here can either get appreciation and lead to hospitality and friendliness, which Pakistanis are famous for, or deviousness against the person who represents a country considered the new Britain, the colonist out to rule Pakistan.
Yet another reason for me to ask – has my move made any difference or done any good? Only time will tell (I think).
