I have a confession to make. Everyone in my family is a hoarder in varying degrees of intensity.
This habit can be a boon and a bane. Very often, one makes accidental discoveries of objects long forgotten or so well hidden that their unearthing is a joyous occasion. These finds are made in a clean-up bid, although there is no clearing out or getting rid of anything. The logic that rules the day is ‘some day this will come in use’.
The collection of things is excusable when you have a big house with lots of storage space. But when you live outside your country and know that you have to return home some day, the accumulation of objects of desire is thwarted by lack of space. That’s when one becomes inventive. We create room where there’s none. So, boxes and cartons go into the floor space under beds, in nooks and crannies and on tops of cupboards. The minimalist style isn’t for us.
We are aware of the need to de-clutter, but we go about the task half-heartedly. This is when the abnormal rise in rents comes in as a handy excuse. We are forced to move to more affordable housing. Spring cleaning is thrust upon us, keeping in mind the dimensions of the new living quarters. We reluctantly let go of some possessions, many of which have no intrinsic value. Sentimentality is ruthlessly pushed aside as we put these into heaps for disposal or giveaway.
Having been born and brought up in a country where recycling is a way of life and parents squirrelled away everything they possibly could, the decision to throw away what is no longer required is made after much soul-searching.
Nowadays, we have options here in the UAE with several people and organisations willing to pick up whatever you don’t need, such as used furniture and clothes to sell at low prices or give to those in need. But when I made several moves between emirates, I didn’t know of these solutions. So, the watchman was inundated with clothes and other goods whether or not he wanted them. To his every “but I don’t need these”, the answer was a cursory “find someone who will”.
Within the family, a relative who lived in Spain, had an obsession with collecting as much as she could lay her hands on. If she went shopping and saw something she liked, she bought the item in bulk. Her excuse was that there were so many friends who would just love these. However, even after besieging friends with gifts, there were still some left over.
She was also a skilled craftswoman and dabbled in various mediums. Soon her work space had encroached almost every inch of her chalet. When some of us gently suggested helping her get rid of some of the ‘junk’ (of course, we used a politer term), she was affronted at first. She had big plans, she would say, and we were stifling her creativity by hemming her in.
I did manage to pin her down a couple of times and an attempt was made to reduce the mountain to a molehill. I soon found that it was an exercise in futility. She would ‘discover’ something during the rummaging and soon she was taking a long, meandering trip down memory lane. After several such ‘vicarious’ journeys, I began to feel travel-sick. So, I would leave her to it, sifting through her beloved possessions.
The items pulled out of trunks and cupboards now lay on the floor — mute reminders to everyone but her. In fact, she was happy everything was now within easy access.
Sadly, her hoard of treasures remains, but she has passed on. Her daughter is left with the monumental task of clearing up after her. But will it be a case of like mother like daughter? I hope not.
