Bivan's Story

Sunglasses, kleenex, scarves, CDs, maps, toy guns, soap, chocolate, sponges, pigs feet, plastic baskets, small shovels, telephone cards, fish, rubber ducks, toilet paper, pencils, cans of who knows what, gum, bags of rice, shirts, shoes, ...raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...stop me before I launch into the lyrics of My Favorite Things (from the movie The Sound of Music...for the young -40 crowd out there reading this blog).  I'm just listing all the things that people were selling on the highway (yes the highway, we're talking a four laner here...) on our way back home from work. People stand and walk between moving cars, showing off their wares (junk). Of course, when they see a westerner in the car (white face = money = he doesn't need it = he'll buy anything and everything) and consequently they step up their sales pitch (run after the car). I keep asking our driver if anyone ever buys this junk...Bivan usually just laughs at my question.

On our way home one day this week, Bivan's (our driver) phone rings. Everyone has a cell phone here...there are no phones lines. This was unusual because Bivan's phone never rings. He answers his phone (talking on your cell while driving is permitted here...what am I saying, anything is permitted here while driving, as a matter a fact, found out today that to get a driver's license, you just need to go to this building, have your picture taken, pay a small fee, and voila, you are licenced to drive a motor vehicle. However, Bivan also told me that if I wanted a license, he would go get one for me because he has a friend at this 'licensing building'. Bivan also said that if I were to show up, the fee for the license would undoubtedly be 60X more than what he'd be paying, due to my 'light complexion' (not exactly the words Bivan used to describe my white face). Bivan will be getting me a license.

Anyways, coming back to Bivan's phone call....turns out that it was his wife telling him that their 4 year old son was suddenly very sick and that she was bringing him to the hospital, which just happens to be close to where we live. One needs to realize here that Bivan and his family live in suburbia Conakry (approx 30 kms outside Conakry...an area that he cannot get to after 9PM because he gets mugged by what he calls 'crazy bandits'). I asked Bivan how his wife was going to get to the hospital. By bus, he answers, it was only a two hour trek. Bivan left us at our place and asked if he could keep the keys to the car in case he couldn't get home that night and would come and sleep in the car.

Needless to say, Madeleine and I had an 'uneasy' evening and night. Thinking about this sick four year old crammed into this dilapidaded bus, in stifling heat, slowly making his way to a hospital, where he and his parents would probably have to wait half the night for someone to see the child, and then...I don't know...what then...a sick child sleeping between his parents in the car we travel to and from work everyday. Didn't make sense to us. Should we wait up for Bivan and his family and invite them up to our apartment when and if they show up? Would that be the right thing to do? No doubt in our minds...of course it would ...would it really be the right thing to do? Got up a few times during the night, checked out the window to see if I could see three people making their way to our carpark...nothing.....

Following early morning, checked the car to see if there was a family sleeping in there. Nope...sort of a relief, but then, where was Bivan and his family...still at the hospital? Eventually, Bivan arrived at the usual time and the usual salutation Bonjour Patron...asked him how his son was. Malaria, he answered, but they gave him some medicine at the hospital and he's feeling better this morning. We made our way to our car, and while getting in the car, Bivan proudly showed me a list of medicine he needed to purchase that would surely make his son better.

At school, I quickly sat down with my 'confidente' Djeina, the school's business manager, and spoke to her about last night's 'moral' tiraillements that Madeleine and I battled with all night. Djeina, who has lived here all her life, assured me that our decision (or rather non-decision) to not invite Biavan's family up to our apartment was the right thing to do. Non intervention in the life of one's 'subordinates' (ow...I have trouble with that word) is the golden rule here in Africa.  Asked Djeina to followup on the prescription list of medicine that Bivan had showed me.

That aftenoon, while getting out of the car, Bivan proudly and smilingly showed us the bag with the medicine that he had bought for his son.

My discussion continued the following morning with Djeina. I happen to know how much Bivan is being paid to be our 'driver'. He has a family of 4 children to feed and take care of. He recently moved to 'suburbia' because he could not afford to live in Conakry. 

That same afternoon, Djeina finds out Bivan paid 400,000 Guinean Francs (+/- 56$) for the prescription of medicine. That is less money than we had in our 'change jar' when we counted it when moving out of our house last July! Bivan is a man who makes barely 110$ a month driving the Director and his wife to and from work every day. How can he afford paying half a month's wages on medicine? Djeina tells me Bivan is one of the lucky ones, many people have no choice but to do without the prescribed medicine. She knows...last weekend her 52 year old sister died (life expectancy here in Guinea is 50 years old). She died of diabetes...was diagnosed a while back, could never afford the insulin....

Told Djiena to discretly make 400,000GF appear on Bivan's paycheck next month...from an anonymous donor. Will find the money somewhere...