阿姨 (Ayi)

One of my roommates told me that I need to get over the whole "progress" thing. I've gotten into the habit of continually noting aloud that "we're making progress" each time we accomplish something that further stabilizes our life here. I've been saying it in that encouraging, rising tone, as if to say, "Well, we haven't done it all, but we making progress!" Surely, I'm talking more to myself than to anyone else. I think, though, that I've said it for the last time, as yesterday's procurement of an 阿姨 (ah-yee, pinyin: āyí), a housemother of sorts, has catapulted us into a whole new stratosphere of lifestyle here in China.

I actually probably would have worn myself out completely before ever actually calling our 阿姨, for in my mind the fear of the unknown far outweighed the prospect of having to bear the burden of completing the tasks that she's now undertaken. Thanks to M., who took the initiative to call, I (and we all) have saved ourselves a tremendous hassle.

M. explained to her over the phone (we inherited her number from the previous tenants; she came highly recommended) where we lived and that we heard that she could help us. I could actually hear here yelling into the phone from the other side of the apartment: she was coming immediately, and did within minutes of ending the call. We found out quickly that her yelling was not exclusive to phone conversations, but was rather a standard feature of communication. A., my other roommate, chalked it up to mild deafness. He was kidding but was probably right.

Having little or nothing in our kitchen, save four wine glasses (how did they know?) and a few wastepaper baskets, we -- with her help -- bought everything she would need at the supermarket across the street, basically an entire kitchen for about $100. It became clear rather quickly that she was not simply a maid. Indeed, the word 阿姨 itself means "auntie," either in the sense of a maternal aunt, or like the Indian form of address "auntie" for any female of similar age to one's parents.

It is an appropriate term in this case, since our 阿姨 is not just cooking for us and cleaning up after us, but rather take care of us for now and all the while teaching us how to take care of ourselves in her eventual absence. Her motherly instincts did kick in even in our first meeting. She had me eat a raw clove of garlic and a 馒头 (mon-toh, pinyin: mántou), a steamed roll, and a few peaches, as well as negotiated the terms of our water cooler delivery and made sure that it was properly installed.

Most telling though, was when I asked her what name we should call her. She said, "You can just call me 阿姨," as if calling her anything else would just be inappropriate.