MEIDNAAIER

Liz looked out of the window of her home and nearly fell on her back when she saw what her new neighbour Marita, a lady doctor from Poland was doing.

“John! John come and have a look. Quickly.” Liz called out to her husband.

“What? John said “What is happening” as he rushed to her side at the window.

“Look! Just look.”

John looked out of the window.

Horror of horrors! Their new neighbour was on a stepladder cleaning her own windows.

“Liz, go and talk to her immediately. I am in a hurry; I am already late for work.” John said and gave her a peck on the cheek before rushing for the door.

“I most certainly will. This is outrageous.”

Liz went out to her neighbour and did not mince her words. Marita was flabbergasted.

“But back home in Poland we do all our household work ourselves. Only the rich can afford a char.” Marita said.

“Now my dear, that is not done here. It is simply bad form; for a person of your status for that matter.”

“But what shall I do? Getting help is so expensive.”

“Not here my dear; for a reasonable monthly salary you can get a good girl who is clean and not smelly, and most important of all, does not steal.”

Maria considered this. It was a tempting proposition. She had come to South Africa to escape the scourge of communism sweeping through her beloved country. She had dreamed of a better life in South Africa: bridge, golf, tennis, sunny skies and a Chevrolet. A char, why not? After all, she was getting a hundred times more in South Africa than she was getting in Europe as a doctor. In addition to that, she was also getting what is called inconvenience pay, in some cases danger pay, for having to travel all the way to that hospital in the black township where she worked. Surely she could afford a char or as her neighbour was saying a 'good girl.'

“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the advice.”

“I can get you a good girl anytime you want. Would you like me to do that for you?”

“Oh that would be very kind of you but I did not want to impose…”

“Nonsense. Anything for a neighbour.”

And so it happened that Pulane, Liz’s ‘girl,’ brought her cousin Meide for the miesies next door as Liz had requested. Liz had her misgivings about Meide, a young, sprightly, nubile maiden with a mischievous look in her eyes, but Pulane assured Liz that Meide was from a very good Christian home and had just come to the city from the rural areas.

Marita the doctor was very happy with Meide. She was very clean and good at washing windows and did not steal; at least not in the beginning.

When Meide did start stealing, she did not start with small items like a box of matches here or a few tea bags there, or cutlery or hangers. No, she went for madam’s most prized possession. Her husband.

From the very first day Ingermas was besotted and could not wait for Marita to be on call at the hospital before jumping into bed with Meide.

This did not escape the hawk eye of Liz who found an excuse now and then, day and night, to go knocking on her neighbour’s door.

“Ag, Ingemas I just brought these lovely biscuits for Marita. I hope she is not on call tonight” Liz would say to the dishevelled Ingermas at the door.

Then horror of horrors again. Meide fell pregnant.

“Scandalous!” the ladies at Liz's bridge club said when she broke the news to them. But that is what you can expect from these people from Eastern Europe, they said.

“They are not from Eastern Europe. They are from Poland, dear.” And so the conversation drifted away farther and farther from the goings on at Liz’s neighbour’s house, until she dragged it back by the scruff of the neck.

“Something must be done about this. What do you say people?.”

“Ja, something must be done.”

Before they could do anything, Meide disappeared.

“They have killed and buried her in the back garden; like that couple in Nylstroom who are sitting on death row now for killing their servant believing the husband had impregnated her. Remember the story?.” Betsy said to her fellow bridge partners shortly thereafter.

“What?”

“Ja, I saw them digging in the back garden late one night.”

“Are you sure Liz?”

“Yes.”

“If that is the case they are worse than we thought.”

“Something must be done about this.”

Shortly after this meeting, Marita and Ingermas were woken up in the middle of the night. There were women wearing balaclavas, carrying torches and spades, digging up the garden.

“Hey you! What are you doing down there?” Ingemas shouted through the window of their upstairs bedroom, whereupon the women scuttled out of the garden with speed which belied their age and weight.

That very same week Meide came back with a bonny baby with woolly hair, a flat nose and brown eyes. The baby looked suspiciously like Betsy’s gardener, Sipho.

Liz stayed away from the Bridge Club for months.
When the other ladies enquired about her whereabouts they were told she had severe migraine. She would join them next year.

Marita and Ingermas strongly believe there is hidden treasure in their backyard; perhaps those Kruger millions they have heard of.