The Driver

Maxwell has been my gardener since I arrived here. He came with the house. He had been the gardener for the families that lived here before, working for the past 4 years, first with his brother and then on his own. He is capable and bright. He is 25 and is looking for a future. One of his self appointed duties has been to take care of my car, washing it daily. One of the ironies of life here is that in a country of mostly dirt roads, it is close to a sin to drive a dirty car. Almost all gardeners are given the assignment of keeping the car or cars of the household clean. Hotels provide car washing for a small fee. So Maxwell has been a faithful gardener in this regard. When I had my first hip surgery, he was dismayed that the car was gone for the 6 weeks of my recovery. My friend Sam kept the car, to keep me from being tempted to drive and to drive for me when I needed things done. It was during that time that Maxwell conceived of the idea of getting his driver’s license, so that when I had the second hip done, we would have easily available transportation without inconveniencing Sam. This seemed reasonable.

So in September, Maxwell set about to research the possibilities. He got quotes from several area driving schools (a must in Malawi for learners), compared prices and spoke to several folks he knew who had their licenses about their experiences. Then he presented his findings to me, with the recommendation of the Apela Driving School of Blantyre. They guaranteed that their learners passed their driving tests after 40 hours of careful instruction, for the mere price of MK 40,000 ($266) plus testing and license fees. Maxwell proposed that if I would pay for this, he would be my driver during the recovery period and would promise to stay as my gardener/driver for a year after he got his license. (This was because many who get their licenses do so to find jobs as drivers for companies or even of minibuses which are much better paying positions and far more prestigious than gardener. He didn’t want me to think that you would immediately run to a better job. ) So this was our arrangement.

In October, Maxwell began his driving lessons. He took 2 hours most afternoons (an hour of driving and an hour for commuting to and from driving) to learn to drive. In December, he took his test and true to the school’s boast, he passed on the first attempt. He was a proud driver! He then set about to gain experience and confidence, as he drove me to work or drove to the market for me, slowly moving from the Synod grounds to around town and finally beyond, successfully negotiating the traffic congestion of Blantyre.

He is now driver/gardener, rather than the other way around. He took me to the hospital for admission and has been the designated driver since. He delights in running errands, transporting my daughters-in-laws for shopping, and taking me to the follow-up doctor's appointments. He actually looks for reason to drive every day. He suggests needs if I do not have a driving program for him. This is a situation that has proven beneficial for all. I don’t have to worry about disturbing my friend Sam; my daughters-in-law have easy transportation to take care of household business; and Maxwell has a promotion and skills to help to develop his future. There is more for him than just gardening. He is now “the driver.”

Maxwell, the driver