THE recent case of an Indonesian maid allegedly abused to death in Bukit Mertajam, Penang reminds me of one of my close relatives, Jamilah (not her real name).

For the longest time I had known Jamilah, she came across as a kind and warm person. At her home, food always came aplenty, for she prepares more than her family’s own needs.

Anyone visiting her house would be fed like a king – relatives, her children’s friends, and even strangers like plumbers or electricians who come by to get work done.

Apart from that, her neighbours were always given a full container of whatever is cooked up in her kitchen.

Every Friday, she sends fruits to the mosque.

And on special occasions such as the holy month of Ramadhan, Jamilah feeds large groups of orphans and those who are in need.

She also has a habit of giving away things her family didn’t need, such as clothes, bed sheets and kitchen utensils. Those who are usually at the receiving end were the folks living in kampungs around her neighbourhood.

Like I said, Jamilah was a kind soul and everyone loved her for it.

However, right after she hired an Indonesian maid to help her with household chores, I began to see a different side of her.

I remember the first time walking into Jamilah’s house and meeting Yanti, the maid.

“Don’t talk too much with her,” Jamilah advised.

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“It’s good to set boundaries,” she said short.

Like many other domestic helpers I have met, Yanti came across timid. She had a habit of running to a spot in the corner whenever anyone steps into the kitchen. She seldom speaks but tends to nod and bow a lot.

Once when visiting Jamilah, I stepped into the kitchen to make coffee like I used to. I saw Yanti sitting on the floor, her legs folded and eyes glued to the wall. I asked her what she was doing, she merely shook her head.

“Why are you sitting here alone?” I asked.

She looked back at me, no words said.

“Why don’t you join the rest watch TV in the living room?” I asked again.

She shook her head.

Peeking at the door, she said with a soft voice, “Mem tak kasi (Mam doesn’t allow that).”

I was bit upset that Jamilah doesn’t allow Yanti to step out of the kitchen, but trying not to show my disappointment to Yanti (at least not before I discuss the matter with Jamilah), I asked, “Would you like to have some coffee?”

She shook her head.

I continued urging her to have a cup, “I make good Nescafe.”

“Mem tak kasi (Mam doesn’t allow me),” she replied.

“But it’s just coffee,” I said.

“Cuma boleh minum air kosong (I can only drink water).”

I still ended up making her a cuppa but just before passing it to her, Jamilah stepped into the kitchen and stopped me.

“Once you get them used to these beverages, they will finish everything up themselves,” she lamented as she grabbed the cup of coffee for herself and dragged me out of the kitchen.

On the following weeks, Jamilah began telling me bad things about Yanti through our routine phone calls.

“She doesn’t clean the house well enough.”

“She is always standing by the window looking outside.”

“She eats too much.”

I used to advise Jamilah to put herself in Yanti’s shoes and try looking at the situation from the perspective of an eighteen year old – but Jamilah always had some comebacks.

On my next visit to Jamilah’s house, Yanti was nowhere to be found.

“Where is Yanti?” I asked her.

“I sent her to the agent,” said Jamilah.

“Oh. You sent her back?” I was curious.

“No. We paid a lot of money to have her, of course we cannot send her back just like that,” Jamilah explained.

“Err… why then is Yanti sent to the agent?”

“I am not happy with her work. The agent will make sure the next time these kind of problems doesn’t reoccur,” said Jamilah.

Two days later, Yanti was sent back to Jamilah’s house. She looked pale and there were some bruises on her arms.

“Did the agents beat her up?” I asked, concerned.

“They are teaching her to do a better job,” Jamilah replied. “Don’t worry, it always works.

“Every time the agent sends her back, she gets better.”

My heart sank.

Yanti did not live long with Jamilah and her family. After only 6 months, she ran away from home, leaving her passport and the salary that was due to her.

“She must have found herself a boyfriend with all the time she spends staring at the window,” concluded Jamilah, still ignoring her own cruelty which I believe drove young Yanti away.

I often wonder why do even the best of people like Jamilah, who are kind and generous to others, end up turning into monsters when it comes to their domestic helpers.

I still haven’t got a clue.

But one thing I know for a fact; cruelty never pays, just like the 60-something-year old woman who is now in the custody of police for abusing her maid to death. – March 1, 2018.

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* Fa Abdul is a passionate storyteller and a resident agitator of the idiots in society. Well-known for her straight-talking sarcasm and occasional foul mouth, she juggles between her work as a writer, producer and director.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.