School is out in the suburbs, my husband’s office is in the west, and we expats cluster in the east, making a car — and a driver — an inevitable part of our life in Beijing. After living just one month in Beijing and having gone through three drivers already, I realize that not only is hiring the right driver critical, but it also triggers some uneasy feelings that are explained by the divide between Chinese and American cultures.
Our first driver was super cheerful and only knew one word in English: “traffic,” which he sighed in varying tones. He also apparently was illiterate, as he kept missing the sign back to Beijing, and we ended on a three-hour tour of the countryside. The last straw was when he misread the sign and drove onto the highway in the wrong direction and backed up among oncoming cars to extricate himself. He was dispatched.
Our second driver was Arthur, who proved how preciously entwined a driver is in our lives. He had excellent driving skills which entailed floating between lanes to seize the chance to advance, and by seeing me make a curved ‘M’ with my fingers, took us to the nearest McDonald’s. However, he was much more than a driver. At grocery stores, he weighed/priced the vegetables and demonstrated opening tropical fruit. He bargained down the price of a bunk bed. He hovered at the ATM to decipher the instructions, and then into the bank to convert a sum of money that must have boggled his mind, considering his salary is $382/month for six days, 12 hours a day. This was all done with an abridged dictionary and a shared vocabulary of 50 words. Sometimes even that failed; we were at a grisly basement where the Halal Muslim butchers offer the city’s freshest meat, hung from hooks and piled on tables, and I was stymied. I ended up telling Arthur to ask for the “most expensive part [of the animal]”. It worked and for $3, I had a kilo of mystery beef. In a couple months’ time, other expats told me, I would not even accompany Arthur but hand him cash and ask him to bring home printer paper, beef, etc.
Between the endless shopping and long waits in traffic, I spent hours with Arthur. I thought it would be great to chat, learn about his life, figure out the inside scoop. We did so with our driver on our Costa Rica vacation and got a kick out of learning how a mouse, not a tooth fairy, visits; and how the school system works. However, it is not human nature but American nature to do that, and everyone tells me to keep an arm’s distance from my “employee.” The Chinese way is influenced by a few ancient belief systems, including Confucianism, by which — and I’ll hopefully simplify rather than desecrate here — Chinese feel comfortable knowing their place in the universe. An over-chummy rich American wife of another man would be a disorienting curve ball. I was told that drivers want it that way. So I stifled my American friendliness. Finally, I came up with a way to fill the emptiness; I practice my Chinese, and was grateful again to Arthur, who corrected me patiently and clearly.
In addition to the awkward silence, there is another uncomfortable cultural schism. As he trailed me in the supermarket, carrying my basket, I was catapulted back to the colonial days of manservants who were at the mercy of (at least depicted in movies) bored and whimsical wives. I can see how whim could devolve into abuse as he waits for hours at the base of my building for my request, or without protest, follows me wherever I go. One blue sky day in Beijing (yes, they exist!), I wanted to see the hutongs, warrens of old courtyard compounds. I asked him to come with me — he hesitated for a split second — but off we went. For two hours, he stoically was at my side or just behind, occasionally translating or figuring out directions.
Arthur, unfortunately, lives 40 kilometers away, and I learn too late that it eats up our allotted gas budget. I am now scheduled to interview three new drivers tomorrow, all together as in an odd version of the Dating Game. Driver #3 to be determined.
Sprague, a mother of three and Mercer Island activist of sorts, is cataloguing the highlights and cultural surprises in her blog: http://stowechina.wordpress.com.
