Milet's plan

by Gene Alcantara

As the plane gathered speed on the runway, Milet prayed very hard, repeating the Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be over and over.  As it lifted off, her silent mutterings became confused in her own mind.  Her plan started to grab her concentration and her fears and worries vied for space in her thoughts  with the build-up of   cabin pressure.   Her ears felt as if they were being covered by her palms when she wanted to shut out the noise of the children she looked after.   She looked over their heads through the cabin window and saw the dark desert fading away at an angle, the whole landscape littered now with uncountable flickering rows of stars, nay jewels, of many colours--orange, yellow, bluish-green, white.  Soon the plane levelled off and settled into a rhythm.  The "Fasten seatbelt" signs were turned off. 

     Milet adjusted the airconditioning above her head, settled back into her seat and sighed deeply, .  She felt that at last she was on her way to freedom.  Well, it was still a long way away to freedom, but she had now gone past the second stage of her escape plan--that of actually departing from that country, now fast receding into the distance, which had been her personal hellish prison for the past two years.  The first stage of her plan was deciding to leave and that had been the easiest part, all things considered.  

     The third part, that of actually making her final, physical escape from her employers would be the most difficult and dangerous part.  Of that she had no illusion.  She had to steel herself for whatever might happen.  She started imagining what it would be like, living illegally in England, living in fear of discovery, trying to make a living somehow.   How would she start?   Who would help her find an employer prepared to harbour an illegal worker?   Would she find a kind Englishman to marry her for papers?  Would she get jailed if caught?

     Milet was disturbed out of her reverie when the boy by the window, her four year old ward, started crying.  He had been elbowed by his six year old brother, who was trying to see through the window too. 

     "Ssshhh, do not fight, you two.  Nothing to see now," Milet hushed the two.  "Sleep now.  I wake you up when food comes."

     Milet first learnt about the possibility of escape when she went a few weeks back to the Philippine Embassy with her friend and co-maid Ditas, to pay their income taxes.   In the reception area there were copies of an excellent newspaper from London called Philippine Express and it had an article about the life and times of domestic workers who escaped from their horrid employers and how an organization called Kalayaan was helping them out of domestic slavery.  The writer then cautioned domestic servants about expecting to find a warm welcome or indeed a safe haven in Britain just like that.  She quickly folded the newspaper four times when no one else was looking, despite Ditas frantically waving at her not to, and tucked it under her shirt to reread later.

     From then on, Milet started praying for her employers to take her to London as their household help when they go for their annual summer holiday.  This year, she knew, they planned to go to Britain also to prepare for the worsening threat of conflict, possibly war, between neighbouring countries.

      "I don't know what I'll do if they asked Chitra to accompany them, instead of me,"  wailed Milet to Ditas, as they tidied up after dinner one night.

      "Well, you can't be sure, really.  But Chitra is an old woman, like me, and won't ever dare what you plan to do," replied Ditas, as she washed the dishes.

       "You're not old, Tita,  you just have five children," soothed Milet.

       "I know," agreed Ditas, "that's why I cannot afford to risk being a TNT, a hide-and-hide.  I had my opportunity to escape when they took me to Italy the other year, but I did not have the strength of will.  You just don't know what's going to happen to you.  If I got caught and deported, who would feed my family?"

       "Pray for me naman, o, Tita," pleaded Milet.

       "I will, but try to act normally," advised the older woman.  "They won't take you if they even suspect you are thinking of leaving.  They have heard so many horror stories like that from their own friends."

       "Why couldn't we have ended up with nicer, more civilized employers?" wondered Milet.  "Luisa next door is very lucky.  Her employers treat her like part of the family."

       Milet had been in the country now for two years.   The heat did not bother her--she was from the tropics, after all. She had gotten used to homesickness abroad, to being away from her loved ones particularly her childhood sweetheart, Berting.  She did not miss pork or native dishes.  She had not been to church because there was not one and she and Ditas only socialized at the supermarket when they saw other compatriots.  She had even learned basic conversation in the local language.

      There were things she used to get upset about, but not anymore since she really could not do anything much about them.   She did not care now that her contract  was changed by the agency on arrival in the country and her starting salary reduced by a hundred dollars.   She had gotten used to the long delays before she and Ditas got their monthly wages to remit home.   She could stand the three children spitting at her or biting her or kicking her.  She could stand her Madam Kulasa's sharp tongue and painful slaps whenever she was displeased.  And Milet was not bothered now that she and Ditas ended up eating leftover food once the family had had their fill.   

      What Milet really could not stand was the way Kulas, the Master, looked at her especially when Madam Kulasa was not around.  The last straw was when one day she was left alone in the house with Master Kulas. Madam Kulasa, Ditas and Chitra were out shopping, the children all at school.  Milet was cleaning the house as usual.   She could hear Kulas puttering around in the master bedroom, then there was the sound of the shower being turned on.  Suddenly, she thought he was saying something. 

      "Milet, bring me towel, quick," the Master bellowed.

       Milet was seized with fear.  Why would Kulas want her to bring him a towel?  All the towels were in the cabinet in the bathroom, all neatly arranged.

      "Milet, quickly," shouted Kulas, after a few seconds.

        Pale and nervous with apprehension, Milet said, "Yes, sir, coming sir."

        She went to the master bedroom, then into the bathroom, and headed straight for the cabinet.   She pulled out a folded brown towel and turned to the shower to hand it over to Kulas.  She kept her eyes down, but she could not help noticing through the steam that Kulas was stark naked, his floppy bits bouncing around.  Involuntarily she raised her head as the Master reached for the towel and her eyes met his.  His face was split into a leery grin.  Milet stood rooted to the spot in her fright, her head exploding, until she realized with extreme relief that it was only the sound of Madam's car turning into the gate.

       Milet knew how lucky she was to escape a very nasty incident.  From then on, she avoided being left alone with the Master.  She knew what he wanted and she was determined not to give it, even if it meant herself turning into another Balabagan, the young maid jailed for stabbing to death her employer's elderly father who had tried to molest her.  Milet had heard of many raped, pregnant compatriots who ended up on the streets, mentally damaged, deported, or even rumoured killed by jealous wives of Masters.

       Milet was determined that, before he could even think of trying again, she would leave somehow.  Come what may.  Her family back home would understand.  They valued honour and reputation.  Besides, Berting's heart would be broken if anything happened to her.

       Then, a couple of weeks before the scheduled summer holiday, Milet's providential opportunity came along.  The day was no hotter than usual, and the road outside the house shimmered with mirage.  Chitra received a telegram from Colombo to say her eldest sister had died,  and that she had to go home immediately.  Their employers agreed reluctantly to pay for Chitra's fare home. 

      "Milet come with us to London, look after the children," for some suspicious reason, Master Kulas himself decided, winking at Milet furtively as he did so.

       Madam Kulasa did not object, knowing that of Ditas and Milet, the latter was stronger and could do heavier household chores than the former.

       Milet was overjoyed but tried very hard not to show it.  Ditas was tearful that night as she realized her younger friend was really going away for good, and gave her fifty dollars just in case. 

       "Naku, Milet," advised Ditas, "look after yourself.  I'll bear the brunt of their anger, you know.  But it does not matter.  It's better, rather than you fall victim to Kulas here."

       "I'll pray for you too, Tita," promised an equally red-eyed Milet.  "Please send my things home to my parents little by little whenever someone is going home.  We'll meet again one day, and I will repay you then."

        Soon, her visa and ticket were quickly arranged, and the whole thing felt like a dream.  Or indeed, the beginning of the end of a nightmare, as far as Milet was concerned.   The day of departure arrived.  Ditas tried to put on a brave, smiling face instead of sadness, in case Kulas and Kulasa noticed something funny going on.

      On arrival at Heathrow Airport in early morning, Milet's male employer was the one who showed her passport to the Immigration Officer.  It did not take them long to get through, and Milet was not even asked a single question by the British official.  She did not realize it was going to be that easy, but after all her employers were members of a prominent, influential family.  The irony of it was that their influence was also their downfall, for it enabled Milet, their oppressed servant, to gain smooth entry just like that into the British land of promise.  And towards the fulfilment of the final stage of her plan.

      They took a taxi from the airport to a first-floor, two-bedroom flat on Edgware Road W2 owned by her employers.  The whole building was practically owned by wealthy foreigners who came to London regularly,  each with their own coterie of household help.  

      Milet was thrown straight away into organizing the unpacking of luggage and putting them away in cabinets.  After sorting the clothes, Kulasa took Milet with her to Safeway supermarket to shop for foodstuff and drinks.  When they returned to the flat, Milet cooked a late lunch, served the children, then the parents.  While the parents were eating, she gave the children a bath, dressed them up for bed, then waited until they were asleep.  When the masters had eaten, they went to the bedroom to sleep off their jetlag.  Milet meanwhile lunched on the leftover food, then washed and put away the dishes.  By the time she had finished cleaning up and then preparing the evening meal, it was time to serve it, the children had to be supervised, and so the whole set of chores started again.

      She finished all her work  by half past eleven when she trundled off to the small broom cupboard which was to be her room for the duration of their stay.  Milet laid out a white sheet on the carpet, borrowed a cushion from the sofa, then stretched out to sleep.  But despite her exhaustion, sleep would not come and although her eyes were closed, she was wide awake for most of the night thinking of what fate had in store for her.  She finally drifted off around four in the morning, but two hours later she was woken  with a kick by Kulasa who wanted breakfast for Kulas and  herself .      

       It was many days before Milet had the opportunity to go out of the flat on her own with the children who wanted to go to the park.  She got to Hyde Park Corner with them and there she met three compatriots who were also in London accompanying their employers.  Some of the women who were with their employers in the park did not mix with Milet and her three new acquaintances, but those who were on their own with strollers and children soon joined them and they all sat together on the grass to chat while their alagas, their wards, ran around.   Milet was able to confirm that there were indeed organizations and individuals who assisted domestic servants who escaped from their cruel employers.  There was also a sort of safehouse off Notting Hill, just straight down past Lancaster Road, then turn right after Holland Park tube station.

      A week later her employers went to watch a movie at Whiteleys mall in Bayswater, which resembled a classy souk in the summer.  Milet decided that this was it or never.  She would wait for them and as they were about to return she would make her move.

       Milet retrieved her passport from Kulas' briefcase, put her money, rubber shoes and a few clothes in a M&S plastic bag, then nervously waited for the minutes to tick by.  Milet timed her departure just so that the children would not be left on their own.  She had some affection for them especially the youngest boy, and she could not bear to abandon them on their own.  Besides she heard that it was illegal to leave young children alone in Britain.  Timing had to be perfect also because she was scared to bump into her employers as she made her escape.  The minute they returned, she would position herself by the window and as soon as they entered the building, she would make her move. 

       She calculated in her mind how high the window was from the ground.  It scared her so much to think of jumping, but she had done this before when she was a little girl.  Back in her barrio when she climbed up guava and mango trees with her childhood friends.  She might have grown older, but she could still do it.

       Soon from her window perch, Milet spotted the couple emerging from a taxi.  She jumped up with a cold lump in her stomach, hugged and kissed the youngest boy on the cheek, then as soon as she was sure the couple was inside the building, Milet threw her plastic bag to the ground, climbed outside the window, crossed herself and jumped.  For one long moment she felt as if she was again diving from a rock into the river near her father's small farm.  Unfortunately the ground was uneven and upon impact with the lawn, she twisted her left ankle. 

        "Aray!" Milet groaned, struggling to get up. 

        Pain shot up like an electric current towards her brain, and she shook from nerves and adrenalin.  Above she could hear her mistress calling her name.  She hobbled quickly to pick up her only worldly possessions and rushed to the gate.  This time she could sense someone at the window and her mistress looked out.  Milet opened the gate, her throat as parched as the land she had abandoned.

         Her mistress screamed, "Milet, what you doing?  What you doing?" 

         Without looking up, her ears burning, Milet walked fast out on to the pavement, her mistress now demanding that she returned immediately.  She knew Kulas was rushing down the stairs to catch her.  Her temples were pounding, and she felt as if her heart would burst, but around the corner Milet steadily gathered speed on bare feet, just like when she used to run in her father's farm.  Soon she was running fast, her long black hair blown back by the wind, just like when she used to stand in Berting's boat as it sped across Laguna de Bay.  She was scared, she was in pain, but Milet ran and ran to complete the third stage of her plan.