I met her when I started teaching Drama in an after-school adventure centre. She hailed from Pakistan. Apparently, at the 'ripe' old age of 26, she was a disgrace to her parents because nobody asked for her hand in marriage.
Her parents prepared to send her to an arranged marriage in Malaysia. Before she met her husband, she knew 3 things about him: his parents are rich, he is single and he has no criminal records. Her mom spent hours, and thousands preparing her dowry. She was given gold and jewels, hidden from prying eyes, so that if everything failed and she was alone in a strange land, she would have enough valuables to pawn, to pay for her own airfare to safely fly home. Her parents shed much tears, they were old and infirm, she was their only beloved sole daughter, apart from six sons. On top of that, she was the youngest.
As my acquaintance with Mrs Sahar deepened, her entire life story poured out of her like a waterfall. Her husband could not keep any job to feed himself, much less his wife and children. Her position in the house was worse than that of a normal nanny. As soon as her younger son left for an education in Britain, her mother-in-law told her to get employment immediately, or else her in-laws would stop feeding her. That day, she spent her bath time crying, bewailing her fate, trying to decide if it was the right time to go back to Pakistan.
A stubborn side of her rose up and protested angrily: No! I'm not going to run away and lose my sons. She has two tall, handsome, intelligent and kind boys. The very next day, she started her quest to look for a job. It was by no means easy, as she had no need to work in Pakistan. All of her years in Malaysia, was spent slaving in the kitchen and serving her in-laws' household. At 56 years old, holding a red IC(permanent resident), who would want to hire her, a woman with no qualifications or work experience?
There were two things in her favour, she speaks excellent English and she drives. The following week after that ultimatum, she meekly drove her mother-in-law around town. After entering a coffee shop, the mean old lady would not even allow her to order a drink, so she excused herself and walked to a nearby bookshop. After all, her husband had asked her to buy 3 receipt books. She took her own sweet time browsing and making her purchase. On her way back to the coffee shop, she saw a help wanted ad, for a receptionist at an after-school centre. That was how she came to be employed. Being bright, cheerful and friendly, she made many new friends, myeself being one of her moral supporters, during her interlude of being persecuted by her mother-in-law, or getting bullied by our boss.
Mrs Sahar owned an old Nokia handphone. Soon, only a select few of us(teachers and mothers), would call her to check on her status. One of us taught her how to wrangle a pay increase. She was initially paid $450 (no EPF, no socso) monthly for 4 hours of work, six days a week (Monday being our rest day). But by the time she was working 8 straight hours for six days a week, her pay stayed the same. Incidentally, our boss did not have Mrs Sahar's telephone contact, both landline or handphone, as Mrs Sahar claimed both she and her husband were renting a room together on her employment form. Her husband and her mother-in-law planned a one-week trip out o town to attend a wedding. she boldly took no-pay leave to supposedly "care" for her father-in-law at home. In actual fact, Mrs Sahar left the house for work, but drove to and hid in a young mother's house near the after-school centre. A few of us had scouted out the route she would take and found a hiding spot for her to park her old junk of her car out of sight, from both her in-law and our boss. Mrs Sahar was so good with the babies and super efficient i nthe kitchen, that the grateful mother willingly paid her $200 for her one week's help.
At the end of that one week, Mrs Sahar tried to extend for another 3 days, but our boss threatened to fire her. She had full confidence of getting another job. After negotiating back-and-forth, in the end, our boss incresed her pay to $750 per month. Even then, Mrs Sahar was still paid less than an Indonesian maid.
At 57 years old, Mrs Sahar contracted chicken pox. In her own words, she dragged her old carcass to the toilet by crawling on the floor. Even her tormentors, both the mother-in-law and father-in-law, were honestly terrified that she would die soon, looking at Mrs Sahar's prolonged suffering. She did not eat any solid food for 10 days straight. Her husband mixed cup after cup of warm milk, from milk powder, to give his wife energy. Her mother-in-law even grudgingly boiled barley water with a pinch of sugar, for her to drink. Two weeks after Mrs Sahar was confined to bed, our boss finally increased her pay to one thousand dollars, and started an EPF account for her, to lure Mrs Sahar to return back to work.
Mrs Sahar herself was amazed that her crop of friends were so kind to her. She knew for a fact that in Pakistan during her younger days, women were subservient to men, and was often very petty with each other. Here in the capital city of Malaysia, middle-class women tend to be super supportive of one another. After all, most are married with the same types of husband and children problems. So it is up to the keepers of the hearth to rise up and help each other, than to pull one another down.
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