I love the way the Japanese miniaturise everything. I suppose it is because space is at a premium in that country and also because of the fragile homes they live in. Maybe we have wacky genes or something but unlike the Japanese, we always purchase the "jumbo", the unmanageable, specially home appliances. "We will save a lot of money," said the wife cajoling me to buy a monster fridge, knowing very well that statement about saving money always strikes the right chord with me.
It must be something to do with my dad's tales of deprivation while studying and working in Britain, but I am always careful about money. His stories would turn even an avowed philanthropist into a penny pincher. "Count your pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves," he always said, and I never knew what he was talking about.
My wife's argument was that we could buy food in bulk and store it in this fridge (which incidentally could easily hide two bodies) and save in trips to the supermarkets and in our weekly budget.
We went to this place in Karama and the salesman took off a few dirhams off the price tag and immediately took it back again for transport of the fridge.
When we got back to the flat, the driver of the pick-up refused to lend a helping hand and it was left to this scrawny Malayali guy and me. I refused to be drawn into this ridiculous operation of getting it down from the pick-up and lugging it through the corridor into our flat on this hot and muggy day. Thinking of the luscious steaks and all the high cholesterol inducing foods the fridge would hold in the future, did not help either.
I thought of the day one of my brave friends picked up a huge TV set and for the next week he walked around like he was looking for his lost contact lens.
Up to the chin
Psychologists say that the mind blocks the awful things that happen in your life and that is how you carry on normally. I don't remember how we brought the fridge to our flat, but the stupid thing was so huge that it wouldn't get through the door. The only thing I remember of that night was sitting in front of my door and tearing the layers and layers of packaging from the fridge till I was up to my chin in corrugated cardboard, styrofoam, and my wife said I was foaming at the mouth.
Now to make a saving we buy everything in bulk. Half-kilo packages of meat in various forms, sliced, diced and minced, fill the freezer. In the next compartment there's tons of filleted fish and chicken bits all over the place. It's like Hannibal Lecter had an orgy and was saving the good parts for later.
Now we buy tomatoes and fruit in kilos and every time someone comes to visit us we force-feed them fruits and we don't take no for an answer. Despite our best efforts, by the end of the week, our maid tut-tuts and throws out the rotting stuff.
Dreading the day
I am not sure how much I am saving by buying this fridge, but I dread the day when we have to change flats, as my wife went and also bought a piano. "It's our duty as parents to give our children a good education and other skills," said my wife. "Why can't he learn something simpler like a harmonica which he can carry around in his pocket," I retorted. But I have learned over the years never to argue with women.
I admire the way the Japanese turn everything tiny, palm-sized and convenient, but that technology has not yet touched our home. We now plan to buy a home theatre. My wife's argument is that our 32-inch TV, which is taking up most of space in our sitting room, is bad for the eyes.
