Years ago, my boyfriend and I rented a room in the home of an elderly English lady. We have lived together with her for over eight months now.
We shared the kitchen and the fridge, but her shelves were always bare. The only thing ever in her spot was a pot of watery porridge. The soap was strictly for laundry, and the only cooking oil she ever had was cheap and pungent. Her shoes in the entryway were patched and worn. The entire flat seemed to sigh with poverty.
Our landlady never interfered in our affairs. She spent her days out and about, collecting tin cans from the streets, pasting up adverts for odd jobs, and walking as if she carried the weight of all her years. Every Sunday, she would have herself a little feast of bruised fruit gathered from the market at closingofferings other shoppers had turned down.
It all made my heart ache for her, more than I could say. And when a guest once came to see her, I could hardly bear the injustice of it all.
Have you got the money ready? asked a woman of about forty-five who let herself in with a key.
Yes, dear. Here you go, take it, replied our landlady.
Thats not enough. Ill bring my daughter round tomorrow.
Whose clothes are these? Do you have visitors?
Im renting out a roomI have to live somehow. I give you my entire pension, the old lady pleaded, trying to justify herself.
Well, then, Ill come and see what sort of tenants you have. They say youre letting crooks in, and with that, the woman barged into our room.
So, who do we have here?
I couldnt believe the brazennesstrampling into our fairly paid for space.
Madam, kindly close the door behind you!
And who are you to tell me what to do? Im the one in charge here! From now on, you pay me directlymy phone numbers here, and this is the bank account. Any delays, Ill throw you out! When did you pay the rent last?
Please, love, leave her be. I paid off the electricity bill with that, they threatened to cut me off. How was I supposed to manage with no lights? our landladys voice broke as she spoke.
Dont take another penny from them, let them send the money to me instead. Thats all, Im off. Tomorrow, as promised, Ill bring my daughter around.
With that, the woman left. The old lady slumped onto a chair in the hall and began to weep. I sat next to her, hugged her shoulders, and soothed her as best I could.
Please dont cry. It will all come right in the end.
Id love a cup of tea, if you dont mind.
Yet, Id never seen her drink proper tea. She would brew dried raspberry or currant leaves, the bunches hung up in her kitchen.
The old lady cupped the mug in her trembling hands and shared her story:
I raised my daughter aloneher father left and never returned. I put my whole heart into it. But she grew up proud and always chasing after men. She married at thirty-five and gave me a granddaughter. Her husband, though, is stingy and mean. So I started helping them, as best I could.
Over time, what I offered became an obligation. My daughter would take my pensionand if I refused, I wouldnt be allowed to see my granddaughter. I thought renting out a room might help me keep afloat, but now she wants that money too. What sort of daughter did I raise?
She broke down again, tears falling as her tea cooled untouched. I ached for her.
Now she wants to move me outsell this flat and stick me in a bedsit far from here. Or maybe just leave me with nowhere to go. Shes already threatening it. If I say no, she denies me any contact with my granddaughter. But I would sell even my home just to see that little girl.
When my boyfriend returned home from universityhe was in his final year of lawI asked him what could be done, if there was any way to help her.
Together we visited neighbours, asking if theyd heard her daughter shouting for money, and spoke with them. They agreed to help, and became witnesses for the hearing. Then we drafted a letter to secure court-ordered visits with her granddaughter.
We also advised the lady to obtain a doctors note for the court, just in case her daughter tried to twist things.
Against the odds, we won. The court granted the old lady legal visitation rightsone afternoon every other week, for three hours. With that, her daughter lost all hold over her pension, unable to threaten her any longer. Now, she no longer starves; real fruit and decent food often grace her table. We help with the bits of home improvementsa lick of paint here, fresh wallpaper there.
In thanks for our help, she refuses to take any rent from us, but we insist anyway, nearly pushing her to accept it.
How could anyone treat their own mother so? To take away a meagre pension, with no regard for what a womanwho toiled and gave her allmight eat? Sheer ingratitude of the worst kind.
Love your parents! You owe your life to them, and dont you forget it.
