- by Sobia Aslam When I got admission in the University of Illinois, USA, and left Pakistan for graduate study, I knew that I would have to go through major changes in lifestyles, clothing, language and culture. I was expecting to face difficulties in getting around town, finding various university departments, shopping for groceries. What I did not expect was that all these problems would seem unimportant and secondary as compared to the biggest problem I was to face: washing my bathroom! I have to admit, with some shame, that I had never washed a bathroom before coming to USA. Having always had a maid to wash my bathroom made me quite spoilt and though I am by no means a snob or the kind of person who would hate getting her hands dirty, I just did not like the idea of getting down on the floor and scrubbing. So when I came to Urbana-Champaign, I tried to avoid the deed as much as possible. I had many excuses for not cleaning my bathroom the first 3 weeks. I had books to buy, orientation to attend, professors to meet, and everything was more important than cleaning the bathroom. Besides, this was America: no dirt, no grime, no problems, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I discovered that every place on Earth has dirt and dust and I was making useless excuses to myself if I thought my apartment would be dust-free. For the first few days it was all easy to ignore because I had other things on my mind and besides, I had not started to feel at home, hence all my shoes were in the right place and all my clothes hung in hangers. It was only after the initial 3 weeks that I realized that my room was not looking as unused as it used to look and my bathroom certainly wasn't looking too good. Now the faint hearted might not want to read on because believe me, washing an American bathroom for someone from another land is not easy, no matter what they tell you in manuals and books. I say 'American bathroom' on purpose. In Pakistan, bathrooms have gutters and are usually washed with water and a washcloth. In USA there are no open drains for the water to go into. Everything is done with a mop and a bucket with bathroom cleaner in it. I did not have a mop and I remembered the desi style of washing so I decided one fine day that enough was enough. The hair on the floor of the bathroom, the dust, the dirt was all getting to me and believe it or not, I am quite a hygienic person. This uncharacteristic un-cleanliness was mere laziness. If my memory doesn't fail me, my first attempt at washing my bathroom was on a Sunday afternoon when I had just vacuumed my room and liked the idea of finally being able to breathe in clean air and see the bottom of my bed. So I ventured towards my bathroom and decided to first of all wash the sink with Lysol, a tile cleaner. All went well, I scrubbed hard and whistled tunelessly. The sink and bathtub were clean in minutes. Now came the time to wash the floor. I looked at the bottle of Lysol cleaner in my hand and the scrubbing foam and then started hard at the floor. It didn't look too inviting but I started out nonetheless. What followed is best not put into words in too much detail. Suffice it is to say that my bathroom looked worse than when I had started out. I had made the mistake of pouring water on the floor only to discover that there was no drain. So I had to take a cloth and crouch on the floor, try to make it absorb as much water as possible and then wring it in the bathtub. Needless to say it was a messy job. The rest of the water dried out by itself, leaving a strange smell in its wake. My second attempt at washing my bathroom was a month later and this time I thought I was prepared. Again I had been avoiding this particular deed and this time round I decided to go ahead with it when I wanted to escape a particularly dry course book. The only difference in the second round was that I went in the lion's den (read: my bathroom) smugger that before and came out almost the same way as I had the last time. The mop and cleaner in the bucket helped but there was still a lot of hand usage, which I didn't appreciate, especially when stray strands of hair were involved. The amount of water on the floor was less but the drainage problem still baffled me. Here I was thinking that we of the "Third World" are behind technology at least we have gutters! Sure I realize that this is the ranting of a failed bathroom cleaner but it just makes sense to have a hole in the floor where water would go. I have not attempted to take on my bathroom again but I fear I shall have to do so soon. Sometimes I think this particular washroom has something against me personally. Just a few days ago the flush got stuck and kept flushing for half an hour before help from my building's maintenance was called and the problem was solved. My bathroom has a mind of its own; it's dirty, its feelings get hurt too easily, it's demanding and despite my attempts at appeasing it, it wants attention all the time. Why is it sounding more and more like a husband! |
