Y
ou asked about shopping in Madras and also raised the question about men servants. I’ll talk about both. There is nothing here to compare with our supermarkets or department stores. There is a large English store near the American consulate called Spencer’s that has many things imported. The import business is greatly restricted now and prohibited in certain lines, but those available are extremely high. For example, example yesterday I looked at some Pyrex measuring cups for which they asked 9 rupees (a rupee is worth 21 cents). At Medford I had two just like them—one cup that I was given at a store’s opening. There is a section of the city known as China Bazaar where everything is sold. The place is divided into pocket handkerchief sized spaces or stalls looking like booths at a high school carnival at home, and they sell one thing; brass, tin, crockery, rope, locks, etc. There may be a dozen of the same kind adjoining each other. Some people would describe them as colorful. Others would say they were a messy jumble. Often incense is burned, and there may be a tiny statue of the reincarnation of a revered god which has a garland of flowers around it. Some are neat and in order. The buildings are temporary with open fronts. Usually the stock is dirty. There is a fruit market section which I like very much, not unlike those of East or other large cities.

There is now an abundance of mango. There is pineapple, papaya, melons that do not taste very good, banana and oranges, and some fruits new to me—one called ground tomato looks like and is shaped like tomatoes used for preserving at home, and are a bit larger than an apricot and taste sharp, requiring much sugar. Once a week I go to market, usually Saturday. The principal place I go is called Moore Market. It is in a large area close to the depot. There are a number of brick buildings. In one I buy eggs—two dozen small ones for 3 rupees. In another I get meat if I go early enough. The best cut of beef there is about 3/4 of a rupee. At Spencer’s where it is frozen, it is higher, but it is always available. For this reason, I usually get it there.

There are an abundance of vegetables. I choose from those looking fresh—many do not. I have to plan ahead so that there will be enough cooled boiled water to rinse them and put the permanganate or perchloride solution in. At home the boy washes them with soap and water first. I put them in plastic bags in the refrigerator—one big bag from the cleaners in Washington and three pillow bags from Tommie’s apartment in Washington. Little things so important are not available here.

Bread comes from the bakery and is ordered and delivered by a man with a tin box on a bicycle. It is not wrapped, and it is given to you by hand. When I eat a piece of crust, I always think of the expression “strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.” I find myself in bakeries or restaurants saying, “I do not like my bread handled,” or pointing out flies on a sugar bowl.

I am trying to teach the boy who goes for me not to touch food he is serving. The other day before a tea, I bought tongs for him to handle sandwiches. To my amazement, he gave the tongs to the guests to handle the sandwiches as they took them from the tray.

That brings me to the servant problem. Yes, except for nursemaids for children (called ayahs), men are the servants, though some people have wives to assist their husbands. The Starks have a family in their house. The broker of the boy came to the hotel and recommended him. He was said to have an excellent command of English. He has been a clerk on Ceylon. I show him, tell him, write it out for him. He has relapses. I have to keep checking and checking. It has meant much hard work.

He wants to learn, as it would mean he could get a job with other Western families, and that is better pay. Every morning I go over his tasks for the day and show him what is to be done and the order. I try to make some surprise visits to see how things go. He is likeable. He tries. My Tamil teacher helps. There is always a new episode.

He took home a starched, ironed dhoti and shirt Saturday night, and appeared here Monday with an unironed one for work. I bought them for him and he washes and irons them on my time. The Tamil teacher made a new rule. He will wear his own things home henceforth. He asked for two cups of milk per day, which runs to 10 rupees per month. He gets it from a buffalo kept behind the house.