I hurried down the stairs carefully like a server with a tray of bed sheets. I mumbled polite ‘hellos’ to my housemates as I joined the queue. “Subi, your pillowcase should be on top” whispered Grace. “Oops!” My knee almost hit my chin as I tried to rearrange the bed sheets, straightening every nook and cranny. I had unfolded, refolded, and super-folded linen several times that night, I was not about to let my efforts go to waste. I had even hidden the frayed corners out of view. When the house matron walked in, she grabbed the bedding off my hand and raised them up to the light, carefully surveying them looking for stains. One would think she was inspecting a fake dollar bill.
“Mbinge! What is this? You need to go back and do it again! How many times do I need to show you how to fold?” She shouted as she threw the crumpled heap back at me. I dejectedly grabbed them and picked the thin towel from the floor, glancing at her black socks. I wondered why she always wore black socks. Was she mourning someone? I heard that her husband had passed away several years earlier. Perhaps this was her way of hanging onto that sad memory. On the other hand most of the other matrons wore black socks, maybe that was their trademark, just like the way nannies always have a hat and an umbrella.
I languidly slithered up the stairs, I was not in a hurry like the first trip. Experience had shown that once she rejected the sheets the first time it would take a couple more tries. She finally accepted them and handed over the clean sheets. The neatly folded, shrunk, tattered bed sheets at the bottom. The thin towel with transparent patches in the middle and the small pillowcase at the top.
This time, I went up the flight of stairs briskly, two at a time as I headed to my cubicle. I was certain I could hear applause and cheer on my way. After all, I had successfully done ‘laundry’ that Wednesday night!