The week before Theo’s parents headed back home, we gave them a glimpse of the fast life in Mumbai and ended it off with one of my favourite places in India so far: Goa.

The hawkers and stalkers at the Gateway of India in Mumbai again didn’t disappoint, and Theo and I had plenty of opportunity to practice a few Hindi one-liners Abdul, our Hindi teacher, had taught us to get rid of them. Unfortunately most of them were so intrigued by these caucasian beings uttering their language, instead of feeling offended, they clung to us, trying to get us to talk more Hindi!

Theo had a long conversion with one of the hawkers about the size of his balloons. A few of our colleagues have been caught out by these balloon salesmen. They carry very large, blown-up balloons, but often when a tourist buys a packet of these, they turn out to be normal-sized balloons. Given that the conversation with Theo was in Hindi, the salesman proudly displayed the packets of small balloons (which he admitted he normally gives to tourists) and the packets of larger balloons (which are significantly larger, even when not inflated) that he said we would be receiving! We weren’t in the market for balloons, though …

We also paid a quick visit to the Taj Mahal Palace (a grand hotel) for old time’s sake – just to show my parents-in-law what a hotel looks like that charges more than R100 for a toasted sandwich! And, of course, we had to visit our favourite government shop for a bit of shopping. The latter turned out to be so successful, our driver had to find us a luggage store so that the newly-found treasures could be packed in an additional bag to be booked in on the next flight!

Gallivanting in Goa (once more)

We booked into Paradise for the weekend. Our hotel in Goa, the Taj Exotica, had us completely relaxed, with palm trees with hammocks everywhere, a large, inviting swimming pool, a nine-hole golf course, a long beach for romantic strolls, and luke-warm waves to swim in.

We even had a chance to try our hand at archery. Theo has done it before and did extremely well at hitting the inner circles on the target board. I’ve always chosen to stay away from such things, afraid that I might end up getting hit by my own arrow. Well, we’ve established that pregnancy hormones make you more … let’s call it assertive. But I now also don’t rule out the possibility of extra strength. I hit the target board as if it was my last meal trying to get away (which really impressed and at the same time scared Theo) – and I enjoyed it! So Theo, darling, watch your back …

Back home we had one more evening to treat my parents-in-law to good, spicy Indian food, and on Tuesday morning at 01:00 they started their journey back to South Africa, leaving our house empty again.

Nurse Raju

It’s been a long time since we’ve contemplated our colourful staff’s behaviour in and around the house. Raju, for one, never ceases to surprise.

Raju loves playing nurse. We all know by now how he likes taking care of his beloved sir, and lately I’ve found out he cannot resist nursing my ailments either. After returning from SA in September I had a very bad flu. With only Panados to help me through it, the recovery was slow, but I was getting better. Just as I thought I was in the healthy zone again, Theo came home with another flu virus, which proved to be even more aggressive than the SA one, leaving me coughing my lungs out and with a high fever.

Raju brought home every ointment and treatment he could think of, but, not feeling like telling him I’m pregnant yet, I just told him I was allergic to all his medicine. This upset him even more, because he takes allergies very seriously.

One day he couldn’t take it anymore. As I was lying in bed, sweating, burning up and feeling sorry for myself, he marched into my room with a bucket of ice water and a cloth. Without a word he started wiping my face, smearing my mascara all over my cheeks. Then my neck and chest. At that point I was numb with shock, very grateful I was fully clothed and ready to punch him if need be. But he only iced off the parts of my body not covered by my clothes and gave my feet a good, ice cold wash. After cleaning my feet, he plonked that same cloth right back onto my face(!), picked up the bucket and exited the room with a satisfied nod.

I had an overwhelming urge to complain about the dirty foot cloth on my face … but I decided that if this flu hasn’t killed me yet, the germs on my feet probably won’t either. I’m still shocked at nurse Raju’s behaviour that day – it’s unheard of for Indian men (let alone employees) to touch strange women like this – but I know in his mind he needed to do something. And the ice bath was the one thing he could come up with that I couldn’t be allergic to!

Strengthening the faith

One evening after dinner, as I sat on the couch to relax after a day’s work and tried to keep the nausea down, Raju felt like bonding. He sat on the floor in front of me and started making conversation.

It must have bothered him terribly that Theo and I have been married for 11 years and still only had two dogs to show for it. After all, in India it’s important to most couples to start with a family as soon as possible after marriage. What he told me went more or less as follows: “Madam, my wife and I are praying for you.” (Raju is a devoted Catholic). “Madam, 11 years of marriage you, and no children. Poor thing, you.” Then, as always, he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes to the ceiling to show his despair.

Swallowing hard not to let a giggle escape from my throat, I tried to explain to him that we chose not to have children, and that we have been very happy with our life so far. This went against all tradition and belief and he uttered a shocked “Aai-yôô!!!”, after which he cut the conversation short and marched out of the front door – probably to go tell Sitaram, our gardener who lives with Raju, the shocking news.

A few days later, after my endless conversations with the porcelain throne after almost every dinner, Raju started threatening to bring his friend, “the short doctor from the Apollo hospital”, to our house so that he could diagnose my “unhealthy” nausea. So I decided to tell him. He was over the moon – their prayers have been answered!

Thank you

Thank you for all your kind wishes and wonderful messages of encouragement after the news of the Schefflerette (thanks for the name, Chantal!) on the way – we truly appreciate it.

The endless nausea is starting to subside and I’m slowly getting used to some other freaky side effects. I’m also slowly starting to feel like a person again instead of a host, invaded and controlled by an unpredictable alien species. The weather has started to cool down a little, which helps me a lot in heated Hyderabad!

Theo has been great and more supportive than I could ever have wished for. Up until this day I also haven’t had to buy one pregnancy book – he went out of his way to build a mini library for the both of us with the most interesting books! My piano lecturer at the University of Stellenbosch used to say about him 13 years ago, “Marga, just marry the man! He’ll be a wonderful father!” Of course I laughed in her face – how could anyone possibly know something like that?! I still don’t know what gave it away then, but Ms Kirsch, I know now you were right. He’s a great husband and will indeed make a wonderful dad.

Although we’re keen to find out whether it’s a boy or a girl, the doctors in India are prohibited by law to look for or reveal the baby’s gender. In India people tend to abort baby girls, as all the Indian traditions tend to make boys financially more attractive than girls. Dowry, for instance, although technically against the law, is still very much alive in India, where the bride’s family needs to pay the groom large sums of money. Also, the eldest son tends to stay in his parents’ home (even after he gets married) and normally takes care of his parents, while girls leave to join their husbands’ families. So, we’re looking forward to our next doctor’s visit in Cape Town!

Until next time … Namaste!