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October 28, 2004
Washing dirty linen
He breaks his back by washing, bleaching, and ironing clothes. Rumana Hussain peeps into a dhobi’s day
He is a young man of 21 who has spent most of his life either perched on a donkey-cart laden with bundles of clothes, or has broken his back washing, bleaching, starching, and ironing them. “Actually, the ironing is mostly done by the women folk in my family — my mother and sisters,” he says, explaining his daily routine. This is Kashif Abdul Rasheed, our dhobi.
“Why did you let us call you Asif all these years, when your real name is Kashif?” He shrugs his shoulders and philosophises, “What difference does it make? All my customers call me Asif. I guess they find that easier to pronounce than my real name!”
Kashif is the seventh child of his parents’ brood – three boys and seven girls. Three of his sisters are married. His younger brother is the only deviant from the family’s hereditary line of work; he is a machine-embroiderer, bringing in Rs4,000 each month. Kashif’s youngest brother, about twelve, goes to school. Their mother wants him to continue with his studies.
“As dhobis our entire family income is approximately Rs8,000 per month. You see, our electricity bills are pretty steep, and we also spend Rs50 every day to feed the donkey.”
“What exactly do you feed him?”
“Three kilos of barley and a lot of dry grass. And at times there are additional costs if the animal falls sick.”
“Do you take him to a veterinarian or treat him at home?”
“Initially, we try and treat him for a fever or cold through herbs and herbal medicines, but sometimes we have to consult a veterinarian, for which we must pay Rs200 per visit.”
Kashif says that over the years his family has lost four donkeys. Two died and two others were stolen from outside their house within a span of three years. “The animal has to be tied outside, as there is no space inside our two-room home,” he says.
“Washing is done the old-fashioned way; manually,” Kashif replies to my question about the use of modern methods. According to him, all their other dhobi neighbours have washing machines. There is a bhatti (kiln) that the family uses for its work. Kashif strongly feels that the rate fixed jointly by the 25 dhobi households in the Jubilee Cinema area in Karachi where he lives, is quite low. “We get Rs4 per item, whether we wash a handkerchief or a sari.”
Prompt, regular and reliable, Kashif is careful not to lose or misplace clothes entrusted to him for washing. It is a pleasure to see him value his craft despite all the adversities. Recently, when his last donkey was stolen, he borrowed another dhobi’s donkey and cart to make his rounds after the owner was through with his own work. He has since bought another donkey for Rs8,000.
Kashif or Asif, call him what you will, only attended primary school. He will remain a dhobi as he chose to become one. “This is the profession of my forefathers, I will continue to be a dhobi, although some day I would like to own a dry-cleaning joint. It is tough to make ends meet with a family as big as mine.”
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