Saturday, May 20, 2006

The Little Girl

Preface: Sometimes, I can't help thinking that the local domestic help business is a modern form of slavery. I don't know about other countries, but here, some maids work 24/7: that's inhumane I say. But that is not what this posting is really all about. I kind of noticed the contrast of control with the girls' build and strength. And the irony of that pleasant, amiable smile.

The little girl, six or seven of age, marched with a tingle of pride in front of the older dark-skinned maid like a princess accompanied by her royal chambermaid. So much power on her little shoulders, I thought. It is good training, when no-one is abused, no physical or mental pain inflicted but these, I can't know for sure. The older girl, wearing a toothy grin, caught me staring absent-mindedly in their direction, widened her lips with eyes twinkling to form a smile like the brilliant sun; as if to tell me everything is alright. She held an ice-cream cone, showing no appetite for it while the junior closed her mouth over another. Probably too much for a kid, but who is to tell her so.

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