Eighty-Eight Boxes
Tuesday, October 16, 2012 at 10:21PM This post was supposed to be about dining tables.
Enlivened by the prospect of the arrival of our long-anticipated freight shipment, I set about woolgathering, preoccupied by visions of adornments, livingroom embellishments, and frillery of all sorts. This geometric dining table; that chair, simple lines, striking blue ; a cluster of ornaments placed just so; a gallery wall speaking to my quirk and easy good taste.
And so our boxes arrived. Eighty-eight boxes exactly. Eighty-eight boxes of clothing, kitchenware, toys, handbags, shoes, books. All the regular trappings of middle-class Canadiana. Eighty-eight boxes on my livingrooom floor.
Eights are expensive in China. A telephone number, rich in eights, will cost you dearly. A licence plate full of eights is only for the the very wealthy. Eight is a homonym for prosperity. Everyone knows that eight means rich.
Eighty-eight boxes denoting my good fortune.
Our nanny took my girl down the hall while the movers were here, keeping little hands out of boxes, and little legs out from underfoot. As she was leaving, she asked how many boxes I had. I estimated twenty.
But, eighty-eight.
Rich-rich.
Our nanny is working for us to pay for a degree in Management. She was born to a bajaj driver, and like millions of others, came from village to sprawling city. She saved three months salary to buy a netbook, but the battery is on it's last legs, and replacing it is going to be a major investment. She lives in a room smaller than my daughter's and shares it with another nanny.
It was left unsaid, but I could feel it.
One box held nothing but shoes. If I walk ten minutes beyond our gates, I see kids who don't wear any shoes. They have none.
Our nanny will help us unpack all eighty-eight boxes, asking where we got this bowl, and where she should put this pot, and what exactly was this thing for. She won't say anything, but I know she feels it. Will she ever own eighty-eight boxes of middle-class artifice?
I told her I was embarrassed. I was ashamed that I had so much when kids in this country, in this city even, don't have enough to eat. I told her I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It's not fair and I'm sorry.
I daydream about an origami table, deliberate about colour schemes, tell myself that I really do need another pair of shoes. Which is, basically, bullshit.
Because I have eighty-eight boxes. And she might have two.
I took her out to dinner tonight, asked her to stay late, and paid her overtime. It was a gesture, empty and vapid, but I hope she understood.
And life isn't fair.
I did nothing to deserve this.
Rich-rich.
heart on sleeve, just write
Reader Comments (9)
I love the honesty in your voice here - how you start delighting in your boxes, how it cuts to your heart, how the honest truth is, in the end, you are (and me, too) just plain rich. And it's undeserved. I feel the tension here between appreciating what you have and feeling the guilt and unfairness of it all - and what do we do with that? It's something I wrestle with, too. Thank you for sharing this.
Once again you've put down feelings and thoughts I too toss about in my noggin. So many have so much and so many more have very, very little. My only experience with this first hand has been in Latin America but I imagine Indonesia, China too to have similar sites, situations. I have simplified my lifestyle a great deal and yet still ...we have so much. Too much. It's not a out all the stuff and you know that and that says a lot.
This is beautifully written and very honest - I enjoyed reading it!
well, at least you did something. most people do nothing. xo
potent truth. perspective is such a double edged sword isn't it... bringing gratitude or guilt, compassion or condescension. You walk the razor edge beautifully here. I have to keep reminding myself of this too.. that even when we feel 'poor' by our culture's standards, we are still so RICH compared to a majority of the world (who have already discovered that 'stuff is just stuff'... and joy can lie outside of owning possessions).
xo
mel
needle and nest design
Your nanny is lucky to have you, you clearly care very much for her and I am sure she feels that and appreciates it from her side of economic disparity. She may even feel the same way about people who have even less than her.
Imagine how many boxes those of us who don't move around have! I shutter to think. I hope your boxes remind you how rich your life, family and memories are!
This is so beautifully written Erica. x
wow, what a perspective. It's amazing, the things we own and see and do every day without realizing how priviledged we really are. I have been frustrated all night, trying to figure out if we need to see our truck or trailer when we buy our next vehicle. Reading this is definitely great timing so THANK YOU!
@Sarabell glad to offer a bit of perspective. I really got punched in the emotional gut with this one. I'm still quite conflicted about it all. Really, it feels awful to be all like, here are my 10 pairs of shoes, when you know full well that the person caring for your kid can't afford to have more than one pair.