Living
October 2007
ETHNIC CLEANSING
I have
decided that as far as housework is concerned, I am a slut.
When I
lived in England, I thought that my standards of cleanliness
were quite high, perhaps because I had the services of an
excellent Portuguese cleaner who, on a weekly basis would
sterilise my home and if there was time to spare, she’d start to
tidy drawers or clean shoes.
Fatima
would be extremely proud of the Greek women who live in Aegina.
Aegina
woman gets up at 6 am, packs her husband’s lunchbox and then
does the same for the children.
Once the
little ones are at school, she returns to the house via the
bakery where she will collect a loaf of freshly baked bread
topped with sesame seeds.
At home,
the war on dust and bacteria begins.
She dons
her housecoat, rolls up her sleeves and refuses any invitations
for coffee as she has to ‘get on’.
Crockery
from breakfast has to be washed in hot soapy water and then
rinsed in clear.
Bedding is
whisked off the mattresses and hung outside to bask in the
sunlight; this not only airs it but allows the sunrays to zap
any microscopic low-life attempting to colonise bedding seams or
stuffing.
All above
floor surfaces are firstly washed with dilute disinfectant fluid
and water; this includes window sills, doors and shutters.
Wooden furniture is then polished with sweet smelling lavender
or beeswax polish until it functions as a mirror.
Floors are
swept, edge to centre and the debris aggressively coaxed into
the dustpan until the time comes to fling it into the bin with
all the other smelly unwanted muck lying limply like
untouchables in a ghetto.
I am able
to function as far as the edge to the centre but I can never
seem to find my dustpan, so I end up sweeping it into a corner,
usually with rhythmic broom strokes, in tune to Dido or David
Grey. I then hide the grey pile by propping my broom handle in
the corner, leaving the brush to conceal the multitude of sins.
Why is dust always grey? This is the thought which occurs to me
as I add to the collection on a daily basis until Saturday, when
I pay my youngest child a euro to find the pan and sweep it up.
Cleaning
the stairs fetches 5 euro, a bargain for me as it takes at least
an hour if done properly. This entails sweeping, washing and
then nourishing the wood with liberal quantities of wood oil.
In Greek
households, once swept, the floors are vigorously mopped with
boiling hot soapy water and all this whilst lunch is cooking in
the oven.
Outside,
the garden receives the same systematic treatment as the
interior.
Paths,
patios and verandas are energetically swept and then hosed with
copious waterfalls of water which in turn stream into the road.
Aegina
woman would easily put any local authority employed street
cleaner to shame in England, so high are her standards.
Spring
cleaning is when regular cleaning goes into 4th gear.
This is the time for rugs to be snatched up and beaten
mercilessly, to be doused in soap solution and beaten into a
lather, then rinsed until they squeak. Once dried in the
sunshine, they are wrapped in laundered sheets and tied with
pouches of lavender to keep them sweet smelling and free from
predatory bugs whilst stored until November in the loft or
apotheke.
Walls are
washed, curtains deftly unhooked and sent to the dry-cleaners,
ovens yanked out to reveal dusty pipes and sticky unforgotten
residues which are immediately eradicated by the chemical
erosion of cleaning fluids. All cupboards suffer the same
fate…unless that is they are mine.
I actually
believe that a little dirt is a good thing and my view is backed
up by some historical research which suggests that it is this
very exposure to dirt which primes us and prepares our immune
systems to build up a bank of antibodies as defence against all
sorts of microbes.
I do
believe that when in Rome we should do as the Romans do which is
why, if one was to pass my house early on a weekday morning, I
might be spotted wielding a broom, clearing away the rubbish
from outside my garden but I won’t be wearing a housecoat as I
prefer to clean in my pyjamas!!
Alison Lorentzos
copyright 2007
