This is the story of Mina. A Nepalese mother of two, she is the sole breadwinner in the family. Driven to provide for her family, she makes her way to the Gulf where she becomes a housekeeper to an Arab family.
The wait is agonizing. The instructions on the package say five minutes. It’s been almost three. Mina fixes her eyes on the bath tub in front of her. Her stubborn eyes refuse to obey and revert back to the stick between her fingers. Nothing yet.
Back in her beautiful country, she had heard these horror stories before. Her ego coaxed her into believing that hers would be different. How could it be the same? She was educated and confident. She didn’t want trouble. Only decent wages for decent work.
How ironic – her Nepal was so unlike the heat and dust of this hideous place. Her Nepal was striking in its beauty. A land that captured your admiration and spoke to your very soul. So much to give the world. This “sandpit” was just that and nothing more. It offered the world only one thing – oil and because of that, they called the shots!
The plastic stick held her urine and her future. Her mind wandered to when she used it before. Back then, in Nepal, it brought only happiness. It brought her the two most adorable children in the world. Now, this stick filled her with dread.
She closed her eyes. Horrid memories of the last twelve months flashed through her mind. She arrived in the Gulf. She was the “maid” of an Arab family, whose callousness and brutality knew no bounds. Soon she realized that a maid job doesn’t end at just cooking and cleaning. A maid must “take care” of the men in the house.
She stopped herself. Those vile attacks made her quiver. With their “love-making” they killed her a little every night.
She knew the rules in this country. Sex outside wedlock would mean the death sentence for her. Five minutes are up. Mina slowly looks at the pregnancy test and her hand begins to shake.