I stepped back in time today. It started when S. told me that I needed to handwash my salwar-kameez. Those are my Indian outfits, and you have to handwash them the first few times because the dye is still loose. If you wash them with other clothes the dye will get all over the other clothes.
Once the kids were down for their nap, I grabbed a bucket and the detergent that she uses and headed into the master bathroom. It's closer to the back door where we hang up our clothes to dry outside. In fact, the window in the bathroom looks out on the clotheslines.
I've handwashed clothes before, so I wasn't a bit concerned. I think it's fascinating. I remembered reading about the pioneer days when the women and children washed all their clothes like this every week! Mentally I took my hat off to them.
I was wearing a long loose dress...what I used to hear called a "jumper." The skirt swishes around my ankles when I walk, and I found a way to tie it up so that the skirt only reached my knees.
Even though I was frowning in concentration, I was perfectly happy. I hummed "I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen," and scrubbed away at one of my scarves. Then I rinsed and wrung it out and carried it out the back door. I had to pause in the doorway to slip on S.'s outdoor shoes that she keeps on the ground outside, and that gave me time to see the goat tied to one of our clothesline posts.
I've seen the goat several times around the campus. This little older fellow with whitening hair and a brown, wrinkled face leads it from place to place.
It's not a very frightening animal, and I could see it was tethered so it couldn't even reach me. I just grinned. It reminded me of that old song that I played on the piano out of the Bastien Books so many years ago, and I sang it gleefully:
"Bill Groman's goat was feeling fine
Ate three red shirts right off the line!
Bill saw the shirt, 'twas in the dirt,
Picked up the hose, gave it a squirt!"
Anyway, I was hanging up my scarf and going from side to side to make it straight, since I was hanging it over all three of the lines. Just then, I saw the little man walking toward the goat from the other direction, and he was staring at me.
I glanced down and saw that my tied up skirt revealed my right knee. And he was staring at it.
Instantly I guessed that in India that was terribly immodest. All the women I've seen wear these tunic-like things with lightweight slacks or leggings underneath as well as scarves draped around them. I felt guilty, and scrambled to get the scarf hung up and get myself into the house allegro-presto.
I felt bad, but couldn't help giggling a little. In the States it's culturally acceptable for a woman to wear shorts or skirts above the knee, but I am not at home! Oh dear, I had been careless...but then again, I hadn't thought anyone would be around that area behind these houses! Well, you live and learn...still, I felt bad. Modesty is so very important by itself, but it is to me individually!!
When I came out to hang up my other clothes, I yanked my skirt down and kept a sharp eye out for Bill Groman.
I certainly won't be that careless again! I just hope he didn't hear me giggling through the screen!
~Cadenza
Once the kids were down for their nap, I grabbed a bucket and the detergent that she uses and headed into the master bathroom. It's closer to the back door where we hang up our clothes to dry outside. In fact, the window in the bathroom looks out on the clotheslines.
I've handwashed clothes before, so I wasn't a bit concerned. I think it's fascinating. I remembered reading about the pioneer days when the women and children washed all their clothes like this every week! Mentally I took my hat off to them.
I was wearing a long loose dress...what I used to hear called a "jumper." The skirt swishes around my ankles when I walk, and I found a way to tie it up so that the skirt only reached my knees.
Even though I was frowning in concentration, I was perfectly happy. I hummed "I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen," and scrubbed away at one of my scarves. Then I rinsed and wrung it out and carried it out the back door. I had to pause in the doorway to slip on S.'s outdoor shoes that she keeps on the ground outside, and that gave me time to see the goat tied to one of our clothesline posts.
I've seen the goat several times around the campus. This little older fellow with whitening hair and a brown, wrinkled face leads it from place to place.
It's not a very frightening animal, and I could see it was tethered so it couldn't even reach me. I just grinned. It reminded me of that old song that I played on the piano out of the Bastien Books so many years ago, and I sang it gleefully:
"Bill Groman's goat was feeling fine
Ate three red shirts right off the line!
Bill saw the shirt, 'twas in the dirt,
Picked up the hose, gave it a squirt!"
Anyway, I was hanging up my scarf and going from side to side to make it straight, since I was hanging it over all three of the lines. Just then, I saw the little man walking toward the goat from the other direction, and he was staring at me.
I glanced down and saw that my tied up skirt revealed my right knee. And he was staring at it.
Instantly I guessed that in India that was terribly immodest. All the women I've seen wear these tunic-like things with lightweight slacks or leggings underneath as well as scarves draped around them. I felt guilty, and scrambled to get the scarf hung up and get myself into the house allegro-presto.
I felt bad, but couldn't help giggling a little. In the States it's culturally acceptable for a woman to wear shorts or skirts above the knee, but I am not at home! Oh dear, I had been careless...but then again, I hadn't thought anyone would be around that area behind these houses! Well, you live and learn...still, I felt bad. Modesty is so very important by itself, but it is to me individually!!
When I came out to hang up my other clothes, I yanked my skirt down and kept a sharp eye out for Bill Groman.
I certainly won't be that careless again! I just hope he didn't hear me giggling through the screen!
~Cadenza
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