The price of dignity: Esther's London transformation

Part 3

The last thing Esther wanted to do was get out of bed. She had arrived home weary and bone-tired. She needed to get ready for her work shift that started at eight. It was summer, but the summer felt more like April weather in Nairobi, only drier.

Without leaving the covers, she expertly grabbed her dressing gown from the floor. She never slept with the heater on—she was wary that it might blow up, and it saved on the cost of gas. The cold weather had also led her to discover that it was okay to brush her teeth with warm water. Her teeth-brushing routine in the UK was a far cry from the one she previously had in Nairobi.

London public transport was strange. Unlike in Nairobi, people did not start random conversations; everyone seemed determined to avoid each other’s faces. Every five minutes, her mind set off a reminder of how much she hated the job. In all her life, she had never washed anyone but herself, not even a child. The pay in zombie-world was, however, the silver lining. Her weekly pay was now double her original earnings.

“You look terrible. Change that job.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I feel really great…not!” Esther and Michael were sitting at a McDonald’s near Michael’s house.

“I said you should change your job. You look tired,” he said. “You know what, I think you should start cleaning people’s houses. There is more flexibility in that. I have a friend who does it, Grace.”

Esther got into a routine of working six straight days and resting for two. She hated being alone because it made her homesick. In the end, the thing she looked forward to most was calling on Michael. He was the only person available whenever she needed a friend. 

Hanging around Michael had, unfortunately, initiated her into a couple of bad habits: alcohol and cigarettes. She partly blamed Rita for making smoking look attractive. How sophisticated Rita looked, holding a cigarette, between her long, thin, beautiful fingers that did not tell the story of wiping old people’s bottoms.

Esther was learning a few uncomfortable truths--most good deeds towards other people are subconsciously selfish deeds. Whenever she went to see Michael, cleaned up for him, or made him a meal, she would have a rush of endorphins and feel high, almost drunk with pleasure.

The second cigarette she took was at Hyde Park. They had taken a bus and sat at the back of the top decker. Hyde Park was beautiful and huge. She found herself reminiscing about Uhuru Park in Nairobi, a minuscule park compared to Hyde Park.

She had finally had a long overdue talk with herself and admitted that Moses had been right. Long-distance love did not actually work. The conversations between them had started sounding like those between awkward strangers. Every morning that she woke up to get ready for work was a miserable morning. 

She was miserable on the bus, because the thought of cleaning up old people was nauseating. She was miserable because of the undercurrents of racism. She was a well-imbalanced and miserable immigrant, except when she was with Michael.

“I cannot even bring myself to give him a call because, you know, he had warned me about possible disappointments,” she said. “I have started lying to him about how perfect my life is. I really no longer see a future for Moses and I. He was good for…”

“…for the ghetto,” Michael cut in quickly.

July, and spring had finally been pushed off the edge. Esther’s perpetually frozen joints started feeling alive for the first time since her arrival. Her biggest fascination was the long summer days. Sixteen hours of daylight excited her. Summer lifted people’s moods. There was a visible cheer.

However, Esther felt better about a bunch of other stuff. She had a new wardrobe, one that reflected the weather, and it was a symbolic acceptance that she was now living in the West.

“Only a few months here and you have been transformed from a Kenyan ghetto queen to a British ghetto queen,” Michael said. They were in his house, drinking straight from the bottle, and each of them holding a lit cigarette.

“Tiny shorts,” Michael continued. “Tight, sleeveless tops, red hair, cigarette in hand! If Moses saw you today, he would not recognise you. Europe has changed you. It makes you appreciate the simplicity of Kenyans, the generosity. Here, you do not dare knock on a neighbour’s door because the sirens will be blaring within minutes. You get to appreciate how well we take care of our old people. Here, they throw away their old people like old clothes.”

“But why don’t all these Kenyans, if they are so miserable, go back home?” she asked.

“Pride. You have been here only a few months, and you hate it, but if I asked you to go back, would you?”

“Of course not,” she said curtly. “Europe may not be all that, but it is better than being stuck in Mukuru kwa Reuben. At least now, I can send my mother enough money to get her off the daily, punishing market grind.”

It was hard to explain how she could hate London so much, yet have no desire to return home. It was like refusing to walk out on an abusive relationship.

It was August, and it was Esther’s twenty-fourth birthday. Hating her job had become her secret obsession. Missing three days of work meant she would only have half the money by the end of that week, but she would survive. On her birthday, Esther wanted to see Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace and the London Eye.

They found Michael outside McDonald’s. “Who would have thought Michael could look this good?” Rita nudged Esther. Rita’s remarks stirred up a stab of jealousy. She didn’t want to admit that Michael had become more than her ex-boyfriend’s brother.

They played silly tourists at Buckingham Palace. By the time they went back to Michael’s house, they all agreed that they were ready to go to bed, but a birthday was not complete unless there was alcohol. Michael had a brilliant idea: an underground party.

They burst out of the house well past eight and walked to the party venue.

Esther’s maiden attendance at a party in Britain also doubled up as the first time she ever attended a party anywhere. Michael led them through a set of stairs into a basement.

“This place is the place that is going to blow your mind. You have all sorts of Kenyans here,” Michael explained. “There are lawyers, doctors, businessmen, pimps and pound millionaires. The rest of us, who include the cleaners, come here to be fascinated by the life we thought we would have here. This is the one place where everyone is equal.”

“Michael!” a voice called out. The owner was beautiful—drop-dead gorgeous and light-skinned.

“Grace! Just the person I was hoping to see! Esther is kind of new here and wants to change jobs. I told her you have the happiest job in London.”

“Pugh! My mother thinks I work in a bank. If I told her I clean houses for a living, she would disown me,” Grace said, winking at Esther. “Happy to help. Come with me, you two.”

Esther was the first to wake up the next morning. Her head banged like a heavy metal gong. She had no memory of how she had got to bed. She was facing an unfamiliar ceiling. She felt around the bed; it was unmistakably a naked male body. She was relieved to find out that she was wearing a top and her panties were intact, but her jeans were missing.

The sleeping life form was Michael. “Michael, wake up!” she hissed.

“What happened last night?” she demanded. “Why are we in the same bed, together, half naked?”

“You got totally wasted, and I had to carry you home. I undressed you because I thought it would be very uncomfortable sleeping in jeans.”

“Where is Rita?” she asked.

“Rita met the man she has been dreaming of. His name is Jonah. I am sure Rita is fine.”

“What? That big guy? He couldn’t possibly fit into anyone’s dream. There’d be nothing else to dream about.”

He giggled and nodded twice. 

“His name is Jonah. I went looking for her just before we left, but she drew out her talons and viciously dismissed me. She told me she would be fine. Who was I to disbelieve her?”

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After a few more hours of sleep, they felt more human.

“I feel like I have changed so much ever since I came here,” Esther said.

“Culture shock,” Michael continued. “You realise it is nothing like you expected. Then you understand you are a second-class citizen. If you enter a shop, the silent shoplifter-alert bells go off. Everybody thinks that the only jobs you can do are the dirty jobs. Anyway, what did you and Grace talk about?”

“She says there are enough cleaning jobs. She wants me to tag along and show me the ropes. If I can clean two houses in a day, I would make at least eighty pounds. If I worked six days a week, I would rake in almost five hundred pounds a week.”

Grace talked Esther through the intricacies of cleaning. “Make sure every corner is dusted. Move the furniture and clean under it. Never must you leave a spec of dirt.” She let Esther watch her, then followed Esther around like a microscopic-eyed inspector.

They did this for a week before Grace introduced Esther to her cleaning agency. Esther got paid in cash for each job. It was tiring work, and lonely, but more dignified than her previous gigs. It was not hard to persuade Rita to join her. Since the jobs were in North London, they moved to a three-bedroom house near Tottenham Tube Station.

She and Rita took a room each, while two men shared the remaining room.

“They are gay,” Rita announced a few nights later.

“Huh?” Esther returned.

“Two men sharing a room? A small bed, what else could they be? Oh, dear Esther, you are too innocent. They are so gay.”

“But they are Kenyan!” she wailed.

“Who said Kenyan men cannot be gay?”

Esther’s first weeks at the new job were incredibly difficult. The houses were all huge. The owners expected them to be scrubbed from the highest to the lowest corner. Grace had given them an earful: “The agency does not condone complaints. Three complaints and you are out. Most important, never, ever, take anything from the house. Most of these houses have concealed CCTV cameras.”

It was back-breaking work. But the money was good, and they had to constantly remind themselves to have their eyes on the prize.

“I keep fit by cleaning these houses,” Grace had told them. It was true.

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