On days where I am tempted to pout, sulk or simply feel worn down by the monotony of training little people I have a built in reminder to be thankful. You see, most days as I gaze over my dishes- filled sink out the kitchen window I look down at my friend Sunethra in the parking lot below. Sunethra is a domestic helper from Shri Lanka, recently hired by our neighbors to care for their eight dogs (yes, you heard right, they have eight dogs all living inside a house our size, and some of them are big!) I have enjoyed the many opportunities I’ve had to get to know Sunethra as she is often outside walking dogs. She always greets me with a bright smile and inquires how the children and I are doing.
Like me, Sunethra is a mom. She has two daughters, exactly Josiah and Annette’s ages and a 17 year old. After her husband was killed last year she pursued the chance to be an overseas worker to help provide for the kids’ basic needs. While her mother now takes care of her kids, Sunethra takes care of dogs here in Hong Kong. She knew when she signed up to come that it would be two long years before she hugged her kids again.
Sunethra has no breaks as her time belongs fully to her employer. I have tried to have her over for tea, but she insists that she is not allowed to ever leave and begged me not to ask her “Madam”. Her world is as big as perimeter of our village in which the dogs walk and as far as I can tell she doesn’t know a soul in the city. She is in debt to the recruitment company that helped bring her Hong Kong, so she is forced to work on Sundays (what should be her day off) until her loan is repaid in 5 months time. Often domestic helpers are not treated with basic human rights, like a few weeks ago when her employer forced her to cut her beautiful long hair to chin length.
I often see her smiling longingly as she watches me blow bubbles to the kids, push them on their bikes and snap their photos. I like to remind Sunethra what a good mom she is, for sacrificing so much to provide for her kids. Sometimes when I see her pass I feel angry, not so much at my neighbors, but at the injustice of our fallen world. That a mama has to be a world away from her babes to scoop up someone else's dog poop. Sometimes I feel sad, imagining the loneliness of her situation. But mostly, I try to respond in gratitude. Thankful that I have the joy of sending my kids to time out, washing their clothes, making their food, wiping their noses and kissing their foreheads goodnight. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.
