The Haj - Leon Uris [254]
Hamdi Othman prided himself that all of his household staff were refugees, all fourteen of them. Hamdi Othman was neither kind nor generous. Wages were a trifle, and what was not provided for in his expense allowances could be easily manipulated through his control of the UNRWA budget and the almighty ration card. His servants were barracked, and conditions and hours were severe.
His chauffeur, gardeners, bodyguards, butler, and houseboys occupied one cubicled dormitory. The six female employees lived as cloistered as nuns, in a barracks with curtained partitions. Four were kitchen help. There was Madame Othman’s personal maid and there was Nada.
Nada was nursemaid to the Othman’s two daughters, ages three and four, and their five-year-old son. When she subsided from her initial anxiety and culture shock, Nada assumed her position firmly and rather joyously. Much to the relief of Madame Othman, Nada finally took the children off her hands, releasing her for more hours at the country club and before the dressing room mirror.
‘The Othmans’ affection-starved children were soon tendered more love in a single day than their parents had ever afforded them. Nada was the perfect nanny. She sang many songs, read what she was able to read, laughed with them, told mystical and magical tales, hugged, kissed. She was quite stern when she had to be but never with a slap. She controlled them with a mere raising of her voice. There were never too many questions they could ask or games they could play. Nada did not complain. Nada worked any and all hours. What a little gem!
Aside from the madame’s personal maid, Nada was the only female servant permitted in the main part of the villa. This was when she attended the children at play and meals and for the nightly parade before their father for their pat on the head or to show them off before company.
Although she had a curtained-off space with the other female servants, she slept on a mat on the floor of the girl’s nursery.
‘Nada!’
‘Nada!’
‘Nada!’ they would cry, racing to get to her first in the morning.
‘Well, let’s see if I can hold three ugly bears all at once!’ And she did.
Life burst open for her. Three beautiful and helpless little creatures needed her, and she did not have to raise them in Aqbat Jabar.
‘Why don’t you have hair, Nada?’
‘To make you laugh.’
The Othman villa, formerly belonging to a ranking British official, contained over twenty rooms, with a separate office compound where Othman worked with his UNRWA staff. Most prominent of these was his personal secretary, a young French diplomat named Bernard Joxe. Bernard aped his master’s charm and kowtowed to his master’s will. A bachelor, his own quarters were on the second floor of the main villa. He was an elegant escort for Madame Othman when her husband traveled. He was a great asset at cocktail parties, the target of many flirtations, although one had to be extremely careful in an Arab country.
The women servants had a walled-off yard containing a washing shed and an outdoor shower. Nada had been cautioned by her fellow workers that the yard was not completely secluded. From his apartment, Bernard Joxe was able to peer down and see a small corner of the yard, so one had to take extra precautions for modesty.
The house livened considerably with Nada’s presence. Bernard Joxe suddenly displayed a newborn passion for small children, tweaking little noses, tossing screaming little bodies up into