Lala Salama
Remember making blanket forts as a kid? Draping them over chairs and tables, then crawling underneath and giggling with siblings and friends? That's what my new bed is like; a play fort. Before, in my old house, I slept on a single bed with a foam mattress, an old, misshapen mattress with a dip in the center through which I could feel the wooden bed slats. I'd sleep to the side of the narrow bed, on my side, with a pillow covering the valley. Getting into bed each night was a hassel, tucking in the net, finding the most padded portion of the mattress and trying not to move throughout the night. The net blocked out most of the low-wattage light, making reading nigh impossible without the addition of a headlamp.
But now I've moved into a new house! My own space! Two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen (with piped water and a sink!) and separate shower and toilet rooms. It's the servant's quarters attached to a detached garage of a large home. I like to think of it as a carriage house. The landlords have furnished the house with beds and sitting room furniture. My bed is actually two double beds, side by side, creating a huge patch of bed real estate covered by a lovely, floral bedspread and matching pillows, the kind of bedclothes women adore. The spread matches the burgundy velvet couch in the sitting room.
No more foam mattress. This bed has a mattress of cotton canvas sewn square and stuffed with cotton, suspended on a spring platform!!!
Mrs. Ruprah sends Samuel, the guard, to fetch me to her last night. She is sitting in a white plastic chair on their driveway, just down the steps from their marble-floored verandah. In her lap is a huge mound of white netting, collected around an iron hoop. Very exotic.
Mrs. Ruprah is lovely and wears the traditional Sikh outfit of a long tunic top flowing below her knees and covering loose pants. Each day, I look forward to seeing what she'll be wearing. The fabrics are all beautiful, some glittering, some with beads, mirrors and sequins sewn on. I'm in love with the Indian fabrics. In lust with the Indian fabrics and Mrs. Ruprah says she'll take me to her favorite fabric store and introduce me to her seamstress, who'll measure and sew a custom suit for 500 shillings (about $7 USD). That doesn't include the cost of the fabric, which is sold in 42-inch wide pieces long enough to make a saree, including a scarf. The prices run from 1,000 shillings for unadorned fabric to 3,000 for the most fantastically ornamented and embroidered fabric. 3,000 Shillings is about $40 USD. So to have a custom-made suit of the finest fabrics, and worthy of weddings and other special occasions, costs about $47 USD.
Mrs. Ruprah hands over the massive net and a set of embroidered Indian linens to drape over the velvet couch and chair. There is so much pleasure piled in my arms now – so I take the treasures to the carriage house and immediately hang the net and drape the linens. The net stretches over the wide, wide bed, forming an erotic, gossamer canopy, perfecting for frolicking under. Climbing inside, there is so much room; to stretch out and to play. The high wattage bulb is bright enough to read by. I can even sleep with books on the bed instead of having to un-tuck the net to deposit the books on the bedside table. Sleeping with books is not my ideal first choice of a sleeping partner, but they are surely the safest. This is Western Kenya where 40 percent of the population is HIV positive and 90 percent of those who are positive do not know their status. So books will remain my cherished sleeping partner.
A cool breeze steals in from outside, from under the giant trees, slipping over my head and into the tent. Crickets howl and cars pass infrequently on the paved road just beyond the purple gate. I hear the TV from the Ruprah's bedroom, faintly, and am content to lie in the cool tent and stare at the ceiling, gaze at the roundness of the net's high gathering spot and watch the occasional long, red ant crawl up the wall. Just relaxing and enjoying the space.
Content.
But now I've moved into a new house! My own space! Two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen (with piped water and a sink!) and separate shower and toilet rooms. It's the servant's quarters attached to a detached garage of a large home. I like to think of it as a carriage house. The landlords have furnished the house with beds and sitting room furniture. My bed is actually two double beds, side by side, creating a huge patch of bed real estate covered by a lovely, floral bedspread and matching pillows, the kind of bedclothes women adore. The spread matches the burgundy velvet couch in the sitting room.
No more foam mattress. This bed has a mattress of cotton canvas sewn square and stuffed with cotton, suspended on a spring platform!!!
Mrs. Ruprah sends Samuel, the guard, to fetch me to her last night. She is sitting in a white plastic chair on their driveway, just down the steps from their marble-floored verandah. In her lap is a huge mound of white netting, collected around an iron hoop. Very exotic.
Mrs. Ruprah is lovely and wears the traditional Sikh outfit of a long tunic top flowing below her knees and covering loose pants. Each day, I look forward to seeing what she'll be wearing. The fabrics are all beautiful, some glittering, some with beads, mirrors and sequins sewn on. I'm in love with the Indian fabrics. In lust with the Indian fabrics and Mrs. Ruprah says she'll take me to her favorite fabric store and introduce me to her seamstress, who'll measure and sew a custom suit for 500 shillings (about $7 USD). That doesn't include the cost of the fabric, which is sold in 42-inch wide pieces long enough to make a saree, including a scarf. The prices run from 1,000 shillings for unadorned fabric to 3,000 for the most fantastically ornamented and embroidered fabric. 3,000 Shillings is about $40 USD. So to have a custom-made suit of the finest fabrics, and worthy of weddings and other special occasions, costs about $47 USD.
Mrs. Ruprah hands over the massive net and a set of embroidered Indian linens to drape over the velvet couch and chair. There is so much pleasure piled in my arms now – so I take the treasures to the carriage house and immediately hang the net and drape the linens. The net stretches over the wide, wide bed, forming an erotic, gossamer canopy, perfecting for frolicking under. Climbing inside, there is so much room; to stretch out and to play. The high wattage bulb is bright enough to read by. I can even sleep with books on the bed instead of having to un-tuck the net to deposit the books on the bedside table. Sleeping with books is not my ideal first choice of a sleeping partner, but they are surely the safest. This is Western Kenya where 40 percent of the population is HIV positive and 90 percent of those who are positive do not know their status. So books will remain my cherished sleeping partner.
A cool breeze steals in from outside, from under the giant trees, slipping over my head and into the tent. Crickets howl and cars pass infrequently on the paved road just beyond the purple gate. I hear the TV from the Ruprah's bedroom, faintly, and am content to lie in the cool tent and stare at the ceiling, gaze at the roundness of the net's high gathering spot and watch the occasional long, red ant crawl up the wall. Just relaxing and enjoying the space.
Content.
posted by Cindi at 10:54 PM
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