Mrs Botha

When I was in High School, I had a Biology teacher named Mrs Botha who was the epitome of what South Africans call a 'plaasmeisie': an unsophisticated Afrikaans country girl who grew up on a farm and probably doesn't have all her own teeth. How she got to be a Biology teacher is beyond me, as I will soon explain.

Anyway, Mrs Botha used to wear frumpy, flowery dresses teamed with sensible shoes (a plaasmeisie staple), way too much make-up, and her hair was fussily curled into the sort of style you might get if you wanted a 1980s bubble perm but couldn't afford one, so you had to do the best you could at home with your hair rollers every morning. She had the appearance of someone who tries really, really hard to look 'fancy' but fails miserably because they're essentially a backwoods hick. 

Heh. Enough bitching about her appearance: I'm starting to sound like a girl. ;-)

She was also what South Africans call a 'kwaai tannie', which essentially means a dragon or a mean old broad (even though she was quite young; in her early 30s I'd imagine). She was a stickler for rules and everything in her class had to happen by-the-book. She was, in actual fact, a fairly decent Biology teacher, all things considered.

Anyway, we once had a week of outdoor lessons, sitting in the hot African sun in our school grounds because the Science block was being fumigated (well, it was Africa, after all). Due to the less formal surroundings, one of the girls in my class complimented Mrs Botha on her appearance -  rather sarcastically in my opinion - and asked her why she goes to such lengths to look so 'good'.

The answer surprised me, coming as it did from a University-educated careerwoman.

Mrs Botha revealed that she showered every morning, then spent an hour and a half getting dressed & putting on her make-up so she would look as nice as possible for her job. She said we should all go to such lengths, because a woman has a duty to always look her best around men, and that includes at work. I felt like Marty McFly, transported back to the 19th Century, to a time where delicate ladies powdered their noses and deferred in all things to the men around them.

So we asked her whether Mr Botha appreciated the efforts his wife went to so that she could look so good at work. She replied that Mr Botha had never seen her in her work clothes… because after she left work in the afternoon, she'd go straight home, start preparing his evening meal, and then take another shower to remove the day's grime. Then she'd dress up in her best, put on fresh make-up and do her hair, so that she'd look perfect by the time he got home. He'd come home to find food on the table, his newspaper next to his plate, and his wife looking a million dollars (cough - Zimbabwean dollars - cough). Because, she told us, it is a wife's duty to always look her best for her husband and keep his home nice & tidy so that she can keep him faithful to her.

Great Scott!

That was a pretty telling insight into the state of their marriage, if you ask me. 

Anyway, whilst she was more than happy to answer those questions, she became annoyed & refused to answer the question I asked her next: "What does Mr Botha do to make sure you're happy with his appearance?".

That's not an appropriate question, you see. Mrs Botha was quite happy to reduce herself to the status of an object, and she believed it was her duty to teach the teenage girls in her charge to do the same. But we didn't dare expect any form of equality. According to her, even if we achieved a University education and forged a career for ourselves, we should still expect to be chattels.

Sheesh. It felt more like 1885 than 1985. Fire up the DeLorean!