Back in the days when I lived in Win Well’s house, taking care of all of his animals, I also took care of my mother’s Moroccan maid, Fatty. Fatty, or Fatima, was very large in all ways. She worked for my parents and lived with us which worked out very well. She would dance and sing and taught my daughters Arabic and how to yell like Moroccan women do. All in all, she was great fun and a wonderful cook. My parents were pleased not to have her around all the time. She almost never went out and was planning on spending just one year in Spain to earn money for her daughter’s wedding, which I gather is a very big deal over there. Her daughter was twelve but I learned that it was very important to impress your guests and have a lot of them. I didn’t leave her to baby-sit, one because she didn’t work for me and two she wasn’t very good at it. The memories we have of watching her dance with this enormous body wobbling from side to side still makes me laugh out loud. One day I asked her what she was saving her money for. What was so important that she would leave her family for a year, work in Spain, to return with the wedding gifts? She then produced two huge suitcases from under the bed and opened them. They we full of candy. Not fancy chocolates or marzipan but plain old chewing gum and gummy worms etc. She then explained that these things were not available in Morocco and would complete her daughter’s wedding and make it an event that would be talked about for years. She never spent a penny on herself. All her money went into sweets.
One day I left her with the children for ten minutes while I rushed to Cristobal’s market, in the arch, to buy a few things. When I returned the neighbors were gathering outside my door. As I pushed my way through the crowd, I found Jessica lying in the bed downstairs and Fatty rubbing olive oil on her shoulder. On asking what had happened, it turned out she had tripped down the last few steps and started screaming. Fatty didn’t want the neighbors to think she was hurting her so did everything to shut her up. The olive oil was something she had seen someone do on the beach in Morocco and felt it must make you feel better. So she was slathering Jessica in it. Fatty hadn’t ever had any schooling and came from a very poor part of town so it was all she could think of. I took Jessica to Don Diego, our only doctor and he said that her clavicle was broken and would have to go to the hospital to get it set. We set off for the hospital leaving a hysterical Fatty behind to explain to the neighbors that it was an accident not child abuse. Jessica was extremely composed and calm, by this time, and not at all frightened by the hospital or the doctors. It wasn’t until we came outside that she broke down into floods of tears. The cast was a figure eight around her shoulders leaving her arms hanging behind her. That is when she discovered that she couldn’t suck her thumb. Instant hysteria, by the time we got home the cast was broken enough that she could get her thumb in her mouth. Later that year Fatty left with her suitcases full of candy to prepare for her daughter’s wedding.
One day I left her with the children for ten minutes while I rushed to Cristobal’s market, in the arch, to buy a few things. When I returned the neighbors were gathering outside my door. As I pushed my way through the crowd, I found Jessica lying in the bed downstairs and Fatty rubbing olive oil on her shoulder. On asking what had happened, it turned out she had tripped down the last few steps and started screaming. Fatty didn’t want the neighbors to think she was hurting her so did everything to shut her up. The olive oil was something she had seen someone do on the beach in Morocco and felt it must make you feel better. So she was slathering Jessica in it. Fatty hadn’t ever had any schooling and came from a very poor part of town so it was all she could think of. I took Jessica to Don Diego, our only doctor and he said that her clavicle was broken and would have to go to the hospital to get it set. We set off for the hospital leaving a hysterical Fatty behind to explain to the neighbors that it was an accident not child abuse. Jessica was extremely composed and calm, by this time, and not at all frightened by the hospital or the doctors. It wasn’t until we came outside that she broke down into floods of tears. The cast was a figure eight around her shoulders leaving her arms hanging behind her. That is when she discovered that she couldn’t suck her thumb. Instant hysteria, by the time we got home the cast was broken enough that she could get her thumb in her mouth. Later that year Fatty left with her suitcases full of candy to prepare for her daughter’s wedding.
Everyone has a gardener
Most of us had bought dry arid land with no greenery and no water. We wanted to start sprucing the places up so they looked like home. Huge concrete water-tanks went in for the water truck to fill once a week and the planting began. A lot of us had the same gardener. He had never really seen a garden before but he did know about digging ditches and watering which were very important. He was also what they call a viejo verde or dirty old man. He would work anywhere just to get a glimpse of someone in the shower or down by the pool, that is, once we got a pool. There are many funny stories about our gardener and I will try to describe a few of them here. We had a house-guest once staying in the guest house next to us. It was an American girl and ever since she took up residence our gardener was nowhere to be found. He spent his whole day flooding the property around the window of the bathroom of the guest house just to get a glimpse of the girl taking a shower. When the indignant guest duly complained to my father-in-aw, he threw her out. She was so shocked, but my father-in–law said it was a lot easier getting a new house guest than a new gardener.
I planted two hundred tulips and when they came up I carefully explained how he had to water them from the ground and not to just squirt the flowers. After fully understanding me he preceded to take a fire hose to all the blossoms and the tulips were instantly gone. As a professional gardener he then explained to me that tulips only last one day. To his defence, my father pointed out that everywhere he worked they did only last one day so he was right in a strange way. He would spend hours watering our plastic grass around the pool just to listen to the latest gossip and watch the girls in their bikinis. He used to lurk behind trees and bushes, until Jeannie set a trap for him. She knew he had been watching her sunbath in the nude, so one day she took a pellet gun with her to the pool and when she saw him peaking around a bush she yelled bloody murder and rushed stark naked towards him waving the gun around her head. He had to run all the way down the street with a naked Jeannie chasing after him, making as much noise as she could so that the neighbors would come out to see him running away. Our gardener was also a closet drinker and hid a bottle of booze in a tree where it still sits twenty-five years later, long after his death and even after the ravages of the fire. He used to hang his lunch from a tree every morning until one day one of our whippets smelled the chorizo, and being great jumpers, he jumped up and stole the treat. The gardener was perplexed as to where his lunch had gone but on the second day he saw the culprit steal it right out of the tree. The following day he was waiting and as the dog jumped for the lunch the gardener cut his back leg off with a shovel. We rushed the dog to the vet where after hours of surgery, pieces of the leg were replaced. We had to lock him in a small bathroom during his recovery, so he didn’t move much, and he was taking enough tranquilizers to put an elephant down. After months, he did recover and was able to use his leg; it was just unsightly to look at. Soon after, the old chap reached an estimated 65 years of age and we gratefully gave him a gold pocket watch, thanked him for his service and tossed him off the property. He had no idea about the deal with a pocket watch; I guess that is a modern way for a company to say good-bye to an employee. I must say we have not missed him.
I planted two hundred tulips and when they came up I carefully explained how he had to water them from the ground and not to just squirt the flowers. After fully understanding me he preceded to take a fire hose to all the blossoms and the tulips were instantly gone. As a professional gardener he then explained to me that tulips only last one day. To his defence, my father pointed out that everywhere he worked they did only last one day so he was right in a strange way. He would spend hours watering our plastic grass around the pool just to listen to the latest gossip and watch the girls in their bikinis. He used to lurk behind trees and bushes, until Jeannie set a trap for him. She knew he had been watching her sunbath in the nude, so one day she took a pellet gun with her to the pool and when she saw him peaking around a bush she yelled bloody murder and rushed stark naked towards him waving the gun around her head. He had to run all the way down the street with a naked Jeannie chasing after him, making as much noise as she could so that the neighbors would come out to see him running away. Our gardener was also a closet drinker and hid a bottle of booze in a tree where it still sits twenty-five years later, long after his death and even after the ravages of the fire. He used to hang his lunch from a tree every morning until one day one of our whippets smelled the chorizo, and being great jumpers, he jumped up and stole the treat. The gardener was perplexed as to where his lunch had gone but on the second day he saw the culprit steal it right out of the tree. The following day he was waiting and as the dog jumped for the lunch the gardener cut his back leg off with a shovel. We rushed the dog to the vet where after hours of surgery, pieces of the leg were replaced. We had to lock him in a small bathroom during his recovery, so he didn’t move much, and he was taking enough tranquilizers to put an elephant down. After months, he did recover and was able to use his leg; it was just unsightly to look at. Soon after, the old chap reached an estimated 65 years of age and we gratefully gave him a gold pocket watch, thanked him for his service and tossed him off the property. He had no idea about the deal with a pocket watch; I guess that is a modern way for a company to say good-bye to an employee. I must say we have not missed him.
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