They didn’t give us the sack that time because they saw that we were right. Well, the thing was that we got an overseer who was less criminal than the others. He tried not to throw us out for the two days we missed and he didn’t dock our wages for it at the end of the month. I was mad with grief then. I said: ‘Why don’t we burn all this so that people can’t come and work here any more?’ I hated the people who sprayed the crops. I felt they were responsible. ‘Why did they spray poison when people were working there?’ I was very upset when I went back home that time. I was with my neighbours and my older sister because my father had stayed up in the Altiplano. When I got home I told my mother that my friend had died. My mother cried and I said: ‘Mother, I don’t want to live. Why didn’t die when I was little? How can we go on living?’ My mother scolded me and told me not to be silly. But to me it wasn’t silly. They were very serious ideas. After that, I got to know some priests. I remember that I couldn’t speak Spanish so I couldn’t talk to them. But I saw them as good people. I had a lot of ideas but I knew I couldn’t express them all. I wanted to read or speak or write Spanish. I told my father this, that I wanted to learn to read. Perhaps things were different if you could read. My father said, ‘Who will teach you? You have to find out by yourself, because I can’t help you. I know of no schools and I have no money for them anyway.’ I told him that if he talked to the priests, perhaps they’d give me a scholarship. But my father said he didn’t agree with my idea because I was trying to leave the community, to go far away, and find what was best for me. He said: ‘You’ll forget about our common heritage. If you leave, it will be for good. If you leave our community, I will not support you.’ My father was very suspicious of schools and all that sort of thing. He gave as an example the fact that many of my cousins had learned to read and write but they hadn’t been of use to the community. They try to move away and feel different when they can read and write. My father explained all this to me, but I said: ‘No, I want to learn, I want to learn,’ and I went on and on about it.
After that we went down to the finca for the last time. It was to a different one this time. One of the landowners asked my father to let me go and work as a maid for him. My father refused. ‘That’s a bad life. They will treat you badly, in ways which we never have. I couldn’t bear my daughter to suffer somewhere far from us. It’s better to suffer together.’ So, there I was with this problem of how to find a way out of this life when this landowner offered me twenty quetzals a month to be his maid. But I said no, better not to. My elder sister had the same problem. Well, she said: ‘I’m going.’ She made up her mind. My father told her she’d be going to her ruin, that who knows where they’d take her. He was very worried because he’d never wanted us to go to the capital to be maids. He thought that our ideas would be all distorted afterwards. He was afraid that we would forget all the things he and my mother had taught us since we were little.
My sister left, but I stayed on with my parents. I used to wonder how my sister was getting on. At the end of the month my father went to see her and when he came back he told me: ‘Your sister is all right. But she’s suffering because the work isn’t like our work and because rich people treat you like dirt.’ I said it didn’t matter if they treated her badly, if she could learn Spanish and learn to read. That was my ambition. But my sister couldn’t stand it and came home. ‘I wouldn’t wait on a rich man again for anything in the world,’ she said. ‘Now I’ve learned that rich people are bad.’ But I wondered how it could be harder than our work, because I always thought that it would be impossible to work harder than we did. So why put up with it? And that’s when I went to be a maid in the capital. I wasn’t yet thirteen, still very young.
XIV
A MAID IN THE CAPITAL
‘I was incapable of disobedience. And those employers exploited my obedience. They took advantage of my innocence.’
—Rigoberta Menchú
When we left the finca, the landowner’s guards travelled behind him. And they were armed. I was terrified! But I told myself, ‘I must be brave, they can’t do anything to me.’ My father said: ‘I don’t know if anything will happen to you, my child, but you are a mature woman.’
So we reached the capital. I remember that my clothes were worn out because I’d been working in the finca: my corte was really dirty and my huipil very old. I had a little perraje, the only one I owned. I didn’t have any shoes. I didn’t even know what wearing shoes was like. The master’s wife was at home. There was another servant girl to do the cooking and I would have to do all the cleaning in the house. The other servant was also Indian, but she’d changed her clothes. She wore ladino clothes and already spoke Spanish. I didn’t know any; I arrived and didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t speak Spanish but I understood a little because of the finca overseers who used to give us orders, bully us and hand out the work. Many of them are Indians but they won’t use Indian languages because they feel different from the labourers. So I understood Spanish although I couldn’t speak it. The mistress called the other servant: ‘Take this girl to the room in the back.’ The girl came, looked at me with indifference and told me to follow her. She took me to the other room. It was a room with a pile of boxes in the corner and plastic bags where they kept the rubbish. It had a little bed. They took it down for me and put a little mat on it, with another blanket, and left me there. I had nothing to cover myself with.
The first night, I remember, I didn’t know what to do. That was when I felt what my sister had felt although, of course, my sister had been with another family. Then later the mistress called me. The food they gave me was a few beans with some very hard tortillas. There was a dog in the house, a pretty, white, fat dog. When I saw the maid bring out the dog’s food–bits of meat, rice, things that the family ate–and they gave me a few beans and hard tortillas, that hurt me very much. The dog had a good meal and I didn’t deserve as good a meal as the dog. Anyway, I ate it, I was used to it. I didn’t mind not having the dog’s food because at home I only ate tortillas with chile or with salt or water. But I felt rejected. I was lower than the animals in the house. The girl came later and told me to go to sleep because I had to work in the morning and they got up at seven or eight. I was in bed awake from three o’clock. I didn’t mind about the bed either because at home I slept on a mat on the floor and we sometimes didn’t even have anything to cover ourselves with. But I had a look at the other girl’s bed and it was quite comfortable because she wore ladino clothes and spoke Spanish. Later on, however, we got to know each other well. She used to eat the masters’ leftovers; what they left in the dish. They’d eat first and she’d get what was left. If there wasn’t any left, she’d also get some stale beans and tortillas or some leftovers from the fridge. She ate that and later on when we knew each other she’d give me some.
At three in the morning, I said: ‘My God, my parents will be working and I’m here.’ But I also thought, I must learn, and then go home. I always said that I must go home. Three o’clock, five o’clock, six o’clock. At seven, the girl got up and came and told me: ‘Come here and wash the dishes.’ I went in my same clothes and the mistress came in and said; ‘How filthy! get that girl out of here! How can you let her touch the dishes, can’t you see how dirty she is?’ The girl told me to leave the dishes, but she was upset too. ‘Here’s the broom, go and sweep up,’ the mistress said. I went out to sweep the yard. ‘Water the plants,’ she said, ‘that’s your job. And then come here and do the washing. Here are the clothes, but mind you wash them properly or I’ll throw you out.’
Of course, I was in the city but I didn’t know the first thing about it. I knew nothing about the city even though I’d been there with my father. But then we’d only gone to one place and to some offices. I didn’t know how to find my way around and I couldn’t read the numbers or the streets.
So I did what the lady told me to do and afterwards, about 11 o’clock when they finished eating, they called me. ‘Have you eaten?’ ‘No.�
�� ‘Give her some food.’ So they gave me what was left of their food. I was famished. At home we don’t eat as much as we should, of course, but at least we’re used to eating tortillas regularly, even if it’s only with salt. I was really worried. At about half past eleven, she called me again and took me into a room. She said: ‘I’m going to give you two months’ pay in advance and you must buy yourself a huipil, a new corte, and a pair of shoes, because you put me to shame. My friends are coming and you’re here like that. What would that look like to my friends? They are important people so you’ll have to change your ways. I’ll buy you these things but you stay here because I’m ashamed to be seen with you in the market. Here’s your two months’ pay.’ Well, I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know enough Spanish to protest or say what I thought. But in my mind I insulted her. I thought, if only I could send this woman to the mountains and let her do the work my mother does. I don’t think she’d even be capable of it. I didn’t think much of her at all.
She went off to the market. She came back with a corte. It was about a couple of yards long. The simplest there was. She also brought a simple huipil which must have cost her two-fifty or three quetzals. She must have got the corte for fifteen quetzals or even less, perhaps only twelve quetzals. She didn’t buy me another belt, I had my old one. And she said she didn’t buy me shoes because two months’ pay wasn’t enough. Then she gave me the corte. I had to tear it into two so that I could keep one of them to change into. I tore it into two parts. Now, I’m one of those women who can weave, embroider, and do everything. When the other girl became more friendly, she asked me: ‘Can you embroider?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Can you make blouses? I’ll give you some material. I’ve got some thread and if you like you can make a blouse.’ And she gave me some material to make a blouse. Anyway, I tore that corte in two and changed right away. The mistress said, ‘When you’ve changed, go to my room and make my bed.’ I went to change, and she made me have a bath. I came back and started making her bed. When I’d finished she came to check my work and said, ‘Do this bed again, you didn’t make it properly.’ And she began scolding the other girl; ‘Why didn’t you show her how to do it? I don’t want mobs of people here who can’t earn their keep.’ We started to make the bed again. I didn’t know how to dust because I’d never done it, so the other girl taught me how to dust, and how to clean the toilets.
And that was when I discovered the truth in what my grandmother used to say: that with rich people even their plates shine. Well, yes, even their toilets shine. At home we don’t even have one. I was really very distressed, remembering all my parents’ and my grandparents’ advice. I learned to dust, wash and iron very quickly. I found ironing the hardest because I’d never used an iron before. I remember how the washing and ironing used to pile up. The landowner had three children and they changed their clothes several times a day. All the clothes they left lying around had to be washed again, and ironed again, and then hung up in the right place. The mistress used to watch me all the time and was very nasty to me. She treated me like.. I don’t know what…not like a dog because she treated the dog well. She used to hug the dog. So I thought: ‘She doesn’t even compare me with the dog.’ They had a garden and I sowed some plants. I used to do this at home so I got on really well with that. That’s what I saw every day. The time came when I was working really well. I did all my jobs in a trice. I didn’t find it difficult. I had to work for the two months that the mistress spent on my clothes without earning a centavo.
I didn’t go out either although on Saturdays the mistress said I had to go out: ‘Come on, out of here. I’m fed up with servants hanging around.’ That made me very angry because we worked, we did everything. We probably didn’t work as hard for our parents as we did for that rich old woman. But on Saturdays, she’d say: ‘Out of here. I don’t want to see heaps of maids around.’ That’s what happens to Indian girls in the capital. On Saturdays we were allowed out in the evenings, but it was preparing their maids for prostitution because we were ordered out and then we had to find somewhere to sleep. We went out on Saturdays and came back on Sundays. Thank Heavens the other girl was really decent. She said; ‘I’ve got some friends here. We’ll go to their house.’ I went with her. But what if I’d been on my own? I wouldn’t have had anywhere to stay, only the street, because I couldn’t even speak to the mistress to tell her not to throw me out. I couldn’t find my way around the city either. So the other girl took me to her friend’s house. We went there every Saturday to sleep. On Sundays, we’d go back at night because during the day we were allowed to go dancing, to the dance halls and all the places where maids go in the capital.
The sons of the house treated us very badly. One must have been about twenty-two, the next about fifteen, and the youngest about twelve. They were petty bourgeois youths who couldn’t even pick a duster up, or clear anything away. They liked throwing their dishes in our faces. That was our job. They threw things at us, they shouted at us all the time, and treated us very badly. When the mistress came home–and goodness knows what she did all day–she’d do nothing but complain. ‘There’s dust on my bed, there’s dust here too, you didn’t shake this properly…the plants…the books…’. All she did every day was complain. She just inspected everything and slept. Then at night she’d say, ‘Bring me my meal, I’m tired.’ And the other girl, who she said was much cleaner, took her her meal in bed, with hot water to wash her hands. She took everything to her. In the morning, the father and the sons all shouted from their beds for us to fetch their slippers and all the other things they needed. At breakfast, if any of their favourite food was missing, they’d make a terrible fuss. And they had talks about our wages: ‘What a waste of money, these girls can’t do anything.’ The mistress was like a parrot. The other maid relied on me a lot. She realized that I wasn’t hostile to her but always helped her with lots of things.
There were times when we’d really had enough. One day the other maid and I agreed we’d start being difficult. She said: ‘If the mistress complains, let her complain.’ And we stopped doing certain things just to annoy her. So she got up and shouted at us, but the more she shouted the more stubborn we became and she saw that that wasn’t any use. The other maid said: ‘Come on, let’s leave and find another job.’ But I was worried because I couldn’t just decide like that; I didn’t know the city and if I counted on her, she might take me somewhere worse. What was I to do? Soon I realized that the mistress spurned this girl because she wouldn’t become the boys’ lover. She told me later: ‘That old bag wants me to initiate her sons. She says boys have to learn how to do the sexual act and if they don’t learn when they’re young, it’s harder for them when they’re older. So she put in my contract that she’d pay me a bit more if I taught her sons.’ That was the condition she’d imposed, and that was why she was so hard on the girl: because she’d refused. Perhaps she nursed the hope that one day I’d be clean–she always said I was dirty–so that one day I’d be all right to teach her sons. That’s what she hoped, that lady. She mistreated me and rejected me, but she didn’t actually throw me out.
I remember that after I’d been in that rich man’s house for two months, my father came to visit me. I’d been praying to God that my father wouldn’t come, because I knew that if he did, what a dreadful reception he’d get! And I couldn’t bear my father to be rejected by that old hag. My father was humble, poor, as I was. He came, not because he had any time to spare to visit me, but because he was left in the city without a single centavo in his pocket. He’d been to see about the business of our land. He said they’d sent him to Quetzaltenango, then to El Quiché, and then they’d asked to see him in the capital and the money he’d brought for the trip had run out. So he hadn’t got a penny. When my father rang the bell, the other maid went to see who it was. He said who he was. She told him to wait a minute because she knew what her mistress was like. She told her: ‘Rigoberta’s father is here.’ ‘All right,’ said the lady of the house and
went out to see my father. She saw how poor he was, of course. He was all dirty. Well, he would be because he’d been travelling to many places. That’s what it’s like for the poor. She went out to look and came straight back. She told me: ‘Go and see your father but don’t bring him in here, please.’ That’s what she said and I had to see him outside. She told me plainly not even to bring him into the corridor. He had to stay out in the yard and I explained the situation to him. I said the mistress was very nasty and that it disgusted and horrified her to see my father and that he couldn’t even come into the house. He understood very well. He was used to it because we’re rejected in so many different places. My father said: ‘My child, I need money. I’ve nothing for anything to eat or to get home with.’ But I still hadn’t finished the two months that I owed and hadn’t a penny to my name. I said; ‘The mistress had to buy clothes for me and docked me two months’ pay for it. I haven’t earned a single centavo.’ My father began to cry and said: ‘It can’t be true.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘everything I’m wearing the mistress bought for me.’ So I went to the other maid and told her my father had no money and I didn’t know what to do; I couldn’t ask the mistress for money as I couldn’t speak Spanish. Then she spoke to the mistress for me and said: ‘Her father hasn’t got a single centavo and needs money.’ The girl was very tough and would stand up to anyone and anything. She was really angry with our mistress and said: ‘She needs money and must be given some money for her father.’ Then the mistress started saying that we were trying to get all her money off her, trying to eat her money up, and we couldn’t even do our jobs properly. All maids are the same. They’ve nothing to eat in their own homes, so they come and eat us out of ours. She opened her bag and took out ten quetzals and threw them into my face. I took the ten quetzals and told my father that I thought she’d take another month’s pay. It will be another debt, but this is what I can give you. So my father went home with ten quetzals. But the other girl just couldn’t stomach this. She was really hurt by it and she often said that if the mistress complained, she would stand up for me. She had a plan, because she was leaving anyway. She began a resistance campaign against the mistress.
I, Rigoberta Menchu Page 13