Three Problems Men Will Never Have

Sunday I had a rare treat: a Zulu preaching in Zulu/Xhosa/English. But the best part was: Mabee is a woman. She was guest at Kayamandi Baptist Church, invited to speak because August 9 is Women’s Day in Africa and August is Women’s Month.

I cannot give you the whole beautiful talk. You just had to be there. But I gleaned a few gems in amidst the bits of Zulu I remember, Xhosa I am learning, and English that she generously sprinkled over top. Mabee pulled three, apparently random, women from the Bible to give some good advice to women of South Africa. All the advice she gave was sound, Biblical and . . . not very surprising. What surprised me was the three women she chose.

She explained up front that, although bad women can be good examples (of what not to do), and their stories were interesting, she had limited time and wanted to focus on her good advice. She chose: a barren woman, a pregnant outside of marriage woman, and a woman who needed serious gynecological intervention.

I marveled as I listened to these stories and Mabee’s envisioning of the hearts of each woman. Did she realize she had chosen women with problems that no man would ever face? The women of the Bible have all sorts of struggles and issues, but these three problems are unique to woman-kind: infertility, out of wedlock pregnancy and menstrual problems.

Hannah, Mary, and the nameless woman, forever called “the woman with the issue of blood.” Their commonalities are few enough, but they are bound by what they have that men don’t have: a womb. Women throughout history identify, personally or communally, with these problems. 

Hannah was Mabee’s choice for barrenness. She could have chosen Sarah or Elizabeth, but Hannah was the one who displayed vision and a deep prayer life. Her lack of a child was a burden she carried in daily life alongside a co-wife with children. She would not be comforted by her husband’s preferential treatment or kind words: her desire for a child was her passionate humiliation--and it drove her to God. 

Mary was the unwed mother. She had a choice: the angel came and asked her if she would be the mother of God’s Son. How could she have had an inkling of what that meant--theologically or rationally? She could only have known its social consequences: humiliation and ostracism. She chose humiliation and obedience. The rest is history . . .

While many women can identify with Hannah and Mary in their personal stories, I have no idea how prevalent is the menstrual problem that goes on year in and year out. This sounds like a private hell to me. While the cycle is a normal thing, when it goes haywire, we all know how defeating it can be. It must have been immeasurably worse back in the ages when that proscribed a woman as “unclean.” To have a monthly break from normal interaction with people could be welcome. But twelve years of being unable to touch someone without contamination: Mabee called it “a prison without walls” and I thought it well said.

The womb is the focus of their unity: an empty womb, a womb filled too soon, and a womb that continually shed its lining--unable to fulfill its function. In each of these “malfunctions” the women had options: resignation or vision, despair or hope. In sermons and studies we have walked through the heartfelt choices made by Mary: to blindly trust,  and Hannah: to blindly plead. They had a type of vision in their blindness, a faith that is affirmed in other aspects of their stories. 

But of that enigmatic woman with the issue of blood, we know little more. As Mabee dramatically entered the role, speaking the imagined words of the woman’s heart, and claiming her vision, I realize what a risk that woman took. She was going into a setting from which she was forbidden. She was touching people crowded around her. She was seeking something she did not dare to vocalize. She was expecting healing without asking Jesus for it out loud. Without even getting His attention! She was so sure of His power, that she claimed it by what she did.

This is something I need to meditate on. Her prayers and seeking had been going on for twelve years. How many requests have I prayed steadily for twelve years? What kind of vision do I have? 

So many lessons to learn from her: and my favorite is that Jesus is paying attention even when it seems like He isn’t. He is aware of us sneaking up behind Him to touch His hem.

Response to: "Chivalry vs. Kindness: Which enables rape culture?"

This past week I read a blog that weighed heavily on my heart on two counts. First, I love words. As an amateur philologist I have an ongoing passion for using words creatively and well. Second, I love history. And as someone who has read widely and in some depth the Medieval tradition, I was distressed to encounter such a modern disconnect and misapprehension of the concept of the Chivalric Code.

This remarkable young writer had many good points to make, gave four concrete suggestions for ameliorating our social outlook, and shows that she has a heart for humanity. Rather than develop these constructive elements, she chose to focus on her perception of what chivalry looks like in her world-view and turned it into a straw man argument. She misrepresented the meaning and original world view of chivalry to make it the fall-guy for present day rape culture.

 A young, self-described  “single mother/student/waitress/feminist” wrote an essay entitled: “Chivalry vs. Kindness: which enables rape culture?” in which she tears down the notion of chivalry in general and then proceeds to blame it as a “subtext” for the rape culture. Let’s start with the title. She presents a dichotomy (of two words we often link in our society) and then insinuates that one and not the other enables rape culture. This is ill-founded thinking because it assumes that one of these two (not both or neither) is an enabling element in the rape culture. She gives no basis for the assumption or the false dichotomy.

She is right in her assertion that: “Chivalry is one of the most misused, misunderstood terms today.” Sadly, she is proof of that. She recognizes that it comes of “knightly” origin and refers to the behavior of knights and that over the years it became known as courtesy and politeness to “control the dangerous male nature” and encourage gentle behavior toward women (as the weaker and less aggressive sex). So far we can track with her understanding of how the word has shifted. Then she jumps to a “bunch of white guys lifting heavy stuff and opening doors” which is quite a leap. Here the tone of her language reveals the strong resistance to negative connotations of chivalry and this seems to me to be her true objection. Society has an awareness of the word that she disagrees with and her thesis is that the word and its heritage is part of the problem and generates more of the rape culture than would otherwise be.

She comically notes: “Perpetuating the stereotype of men as beastly, uncontrollably violent monsters that need to tip their hat or bow down in order to tell women they will not rape them is crazy.” Of course it’s crazy. We agree. What we wonder is how the understanding of chivalry has been watered down to that minimalistic notion. Tipping hats and bowing are part of 19th century gallantry and haven’t a direct correlation to the origins of chivalry.

Here she moves into a correlative fallacy (a faulty assumption between two variables that one causes the other): IF chivalry encourages men “to tame their barely controllable violent urges,” THEN it directly correlates with narratives of the rape culture. Without giving a foundation for this presumption, she moves on to explain that this is why feminists are offended by the legacy of chivalry. I.e. something that may or may not be related to chivalry is the basis for some people to object to chivalry. I beg to point out that chivalry is not definable or accurately describable as a mindset for men to tame their violent urges. It is hardly that and it is much more.

For a moment, let’s look at what chivalry is, rather than what a 21st century (nearly ten centuries removed) woman perceives it to be. Briefly: the chivalric code of medieval tradition had three basic tenets. 1. Duties to king and countrymen, to the point of self-sacrifice. 2. Duties to God, being a man of faith. 3. Duties to protect the weak, identified as women, children, and elderly. This does not sound like it has as its primary agenda “patriarchal male privilege and female subordination.”  That those two items existed in the society in which chivalry originated is granted--but they also existed in societies far removed from chivalry. The contrast is that chivalry appears more to be designed to address those as flaws rather than perpetuate them. Strong men using their strength to defend king, faith, and those weaker is not “controlling violent urges.” It seems an attempt to counter those strong men who are not exercising self-control. Notice that protecting women and children is only a third of the whole, but is being redefined as the cause of rape. At the risk of my own weak parallel: blaming chivalry for encouraging the rape culture is like blaming oncology units for causing cancer. They exist because cancer exists, they don’t cause it.

The “inherent” problem with chivalry, she says, is that it is about one-way kindness. She has no problem with kindness. In fact, she is “all about kindness.” One-way kindness does not lead to healthy relationships. So she is advocating reciprocal kindness. This she sees as in opposition to chivalry (one-way kindness) and will be better received. I applaud her desire for reciprocity. This is where she does get it right. However, chivalry is not about kindness. She herself argues that “kindness and chivalry are not synonyms.” I want to stand and shout “Amen. Who said they were?” Chivalry has never been about something as innocuous as kindness. It was always about loyalty, honor, courage, and morality. The assumption that chivalry can be redefined as kindness or respect reveals a basic misunderstanding of chivalry. It is so much more.

She concludes: “So, is chivalry a part of the rape culture? Chivalry, as it can be taken with all of its historical context and breadth of connotation, can be considered to be a part of rape culture.” With no accusations other than that guys  in the 21st century who pay for the date, open doors, and carry heavy stuff ("acting chivalrously"), she implies they are perpetuating the rape culture. In fact, they are acting gallantly, not chivalrously. However, even gallantry is not the fall guy for the rape culture. 

All that being said, the author has four very excellent suggestions. She calls them “How to be Kind without the rape subtext of chivalry.” These are four admirable, doable goals. 

        1. She wants Kindness all around: men to men and women, women to women and men.
        2. She recommends we commit to genuine acts of kindness; basically, kindness with some ulterior motive is her definition of “chivalrous.”
        3.“Just don’t do it” is her piéce de resistance. Here she decries the pinching, groping, catcalling, whistling that women are subject to day in and day out. This, I believe, is her biggest issue. She thinks that men, in small “opening the doors” gestures are trying to signal that they won’t rape, rob or injure women. She would rather they simply didn’t do the nasty stuff. Perhaps many feminists see these small gestures as such signals, but I suspect the men have no such ideas in their minds. This is one area where, as she puts it, cultural ideologies need to change. Yes, they do.
       4. Communicate. And this one should be self-evident. Her slant, however,  has to do with the concept of chivalry. If you are someone who is offended by the word, then express the offense in an articulate way (as she has). And if you staunchly defend chivalry, explain it in a cohesive, respectful way (as I hope I have). 

In short, as I look at her very valid complaints: groping, pinching, catcalling, (all the crude stuff bully-type guys tend to do in a group), they do not align with the men who open doors and pay for dinner. The likelihood of these two men-types intersecting is very small. The one is known for crudity, the other for “chivalry”. To blame the rape culture on the latter is counter-intuitive for me and I struggle to attribute their “gentleness” to a mentality that denigrates women.

She has some great concepts, and my favorite is how rare it is for what one person intends to be communicated to be received in complete accuracy by another. For this reason, we need to give one another the benefit of the doubt and permission to express our opinions without judgmental or pejorative language.

I would like to add on a divergent thought at this point. Much of my reason for writing this is that it so clearly comes from a protected and powerful world view. We all write from our point of view, but there is the danger of the Mind-projection fallacy which considers the way one sees the world as the way it is in reality. Hmm, Sounds like something we all do from time to time.

In our work here in subsaharan Africa, I have met more girls and women from slum and township background than from anything that would correlate to what an American woman (suburban, urban or rural) would encounter. Most of these women have been routinely subjected to sexual abuse by the very men who are supposed to protect them: fathers, husbands, uncles, cousins. They have grown up in a tradition that has no chivalric code to blame for the rape culture in which they live. Where, then, did it come from? There is something much bigger going on here than a thousand year history of knights on horses going around to protect the weak. She described a “really bad date” as one who pays for everything, compliments her exterior attributes, and allows her no reciprocation. I tried to imagine explaining what a date was to an African girl: a date where the man paid for her and didn’t expect sexual favors. A time where minds might meet and thoughts might be shared.

Rather than focus on chivalry as the root of the issue and argue about telling the “truth” about chivalry, why not focus on the desired change: kindness all ways. Oh, and how about an extra dose of grace for everyone?

Happy Birthday, Madiba

Two simple herdboys who learned life's lessons out in the fields became great leaders of their nations. One was a poet and musician who wrote the most beloved shepherd poem in history. The other was a lawyer who spent his prime years in prison. They both understood elemental truths of leadership by herding animals.

It's something to meditate on: the two men who came to leadership by service. David and Madiba have many traits in common. Their integrity, courage, grace under attack, forgiveness, and failings. Think on them this day, Madiba's 95th birthday.

If there were something I would wish for Madiba today, it would be that his legacy continues long after he leaves us. He paid a high personal price for his country. He lost out on many family blessings because he put his people first. I believe, in the end, he gained far more--and a farther reaching family of many shades of skin.

Recently Isabel and I visited a museum and viewed an amazing platinum sculpture entitled: Pure Mind--Rare Vision--Eternal Spirit. A Bavarian artist, Tom Rucker, visited Khayelitsha (a township near here) and asked the young people there who their hero was. He expected a rock star or a soccer hero. But they unanimously shouted: Nelson Mandela.

Thus inspired, Rucker returned to Germany and began an eight-month project of laser welding to honor the man who inspired such devotion.

Nelson Mandela: Pure Mind--Rare Vision--Eternal Spirit

A labor of love: countless platinum filaments welded (with a laser under a microscope) with over 1.8 million laser spot welds. Madiba smiles at us and his black diamond eyes, set in black rhodium crinkle characteristically. 

side view of Mandela sculpture

This man evokes gratitude and appreciation in every part of the earth. His strength and grace have changed the lives of his countrymen and foreigners alike.

Madiba, I hope your example is not forgotten. I pray your sacrifice is remembered in future generations, even when the sculpture is dust. May the work of your hands be established in this country and not forgotten. And your gentle herding appreciated:

A leader. . .is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind.
--Nelson Mandela

Back-tracking

I found out something about myself this past weekend: I don't like retracing my steps. 
I don't want to turn around and go the way I came; I want to keep going forward.

seeking the Contour Path

Isabel and I were fulfilling one of her summer goals: the three-hour hike on the Contour Path (on Table Mountain) between Newland's Forest and the King's Blockhouse. We had a map, good shoes, directions, water and wind breakers. We were ready.

At first the map was easy to follow and we encountered quite a few other hikers and some picnickers. We knew we had to find the Woodcutter's Path then cut uphill to locate the Contour Path which promised vistas of the bay and scenery unparalleled. To our surprise, the map was sketchy in places and the directions were not straightforward. As we started to wonder about one turn off we'd taken, we heard voices on a lower path and headed back to ask them. Short, quick, they were seasoned hikers and assured us the Woodcutter's Path was just up that very trail. 

We found it and felt rather jubilant. Our Frodo and Sam combo felt good. We enjoyed the trees, the rocks, the multiple streams to "ford" and glimpses of the view to come. The Woodcutter's Path went very far, indeed, and when we reached a rutted road, we realized we had missed an ascending path (three, actually) which would have taken us to the Contour Path. There was no access to the Contour Path from our location and we'd either have to accept the road or retrace our steps. I was pushing for a cross-country attempt. But Isabel was the map-keeper and navigator. We had to go back.

That's when I learned about me. How I dislike retreating. Going back. Undoing something that hasn't been well done. I'd much rather head on, push through, not "give up." But this wasn't an option. If we wanted to accomplish our goal, we'd have to go back. That's when Isabel reminded me of Lewis' observation:

"If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man. We have all seen this while doing arithmetic. When I have started a sum the wrong way, the sooner I admit this and go back and start over again, the faster I shall get on. There is nothing progressive about being pigheaded and refusing to admit a mistake."

We turned around and kept our eyes peeled for the missed trails. Three times we imagined trails and started uphill, only to have the trail disappear, and three times we had to retreat to the Woodcutter. I was beginning to feel like Sam when he remarked that things looked familiar, and Frodo observed: "we've been here before, we're going in circles." Now the truth dawned, despite our maps and preparations, we did not know the way. 

But eventually, the trail appeared and we realized that we'd missed it in our joy at seeing a sign for "Woodcutter's Path". While rejoicing that we'd found the first part, we missed the turn-off to the second part. Then the going got rough as we ascended steeply.

Great was our rejoicing when we finally attained the Contour Path. But it would not have been ours if we had not turned back. 

"there is nothing progressive about being pig-headed and refusing to admit a mistake"

C. S. Lewis

Do we need another book on what's wrong with Africa?

Robert Guest's book, The Shackled Continent: Africa's past, present and future, (2004) is another of the many books I have felt compelled to read in search of a word of hope for this place I have lived and come to love. And like the other authors, his prognosis is for a long, hard-won recovery: no quick fixes, no magic cures. 

Refreshingly, he does not place the entire blame for the conditions on colonialism or foreign aid. He recognizes that doing so is likely to be counter-productive: "Much of Africa is seized by the uniquely disempowering notion that foreigners are to blame for most past and present ills." If the blame falls outside it follows that the solution is also outside, but Guest warns: "Railing against outsiders may be cathartic, but it does not achieve much."

Guest's work feels like a compilation of good ideas piggy-backed on haunting stories. 
In ten pithy chapters, Guest summarizes the ills and causes of the African milieu. He plunges into "Vampire State" describing Mugabe's reign of terror over Zimbabwe. Although Mugabe began much as a "Man of the People" reminiscent of Chinua Achebe's book, his story has deteriorated more dramatically. The vampire chapter concludes with an explanation of the man-made famine, (quoting the organizing secretary of the ruling party): "We would be better off with only six million people, with our own people who support the liberation struggle. We don't want those extra people." (Zimbabwe's population was 12 million at that time.)

Mugabe is merely a representative of a cohort of despots who have pillaged their countries in the name of liberation and seem to have gotten away with it. From this low point of "freedom" stories, Guest moves on to "Digging Diamonds, Digging Graves". The gruesome blood diamond films and exposés are such a part of our awareness that the expression no longer needs explanation. That this chilling disregard for human life falls on the heels of not wanting "those extra people" should come as no surprise to us.

Then in three well-storied, hard-hitting chapters, Guest attacks communalism, fatalism and tribalism. "No Title," "Sex and Death" and "The Son of a Snake is a Snake" describe elements of African culture which, unbalanced, create precarious situations which can be manipulated by outsiders or clever insiders. Guest's genius is in capturing the ideas in memorable stories. "No Title" addresses the problem of lack of private property which John Hollaway addresses in "All Poor Together." While "Sex and Death" deals with the short term solution of prostitution to avoid starving at the risk of contracting AIDS. Such fatalism  is foreign to Westerners, thus it is confounding to anyone attempting to "help."

Many are the books condemning Western aid to Africa, and Guest's book is definitely in that category, though using a broader brush to paint a panorama. All African fail-stories are not the direct result of poorly implemented aid. But the tradition of Michael Maren (The Road to Hell) and Dambisa Moyo (Dead Aid) are upheld. While Maren's target is the insincerity of the aid business and their preoccupation with image, Guest points out the reality that even sincere attempts are fraught with danger. This kind of fix-it charity, throwing money at problems and not recognizing the brokenness out of which springs the "poverty" is toxic. His chapter "Fair Aid, Free Trade" addresses some possible solutions which donor countries have not considered, possibly because the price is too high, and charity is easier.

The final three chapters wrap up corruption, leap-frogging technology, and the hope of South Africa. Guest lays an array of success and failure illustrations designed to make us think. In pithy conclusions, he reminds us that we are not doomed to fail: "The lesson from Morogoro and Rufiji is that simple ideas rigorously applied, can yield dramatic results."

And this seems to be his "One Step at a Time" conclusion. There is plenty of hope for Africa, the richly endowed, colorful continent which at times is overshadowed by the pall of disparity and injustice. Keep it simple. Do it slowly.

Wise words--in simplicity is our strength. And haste is the enemy of perfection.

466/64

As he approaches the end of a most amazing life-marathon, Nelson Mandela assumes larger-than-life proportions. He is grandfather to a nation; a nation that looks to his hospital room, waits for news, and holds its collective breath. Mandela is a giant in a century of giants. He dwarfs the newsmakers and politicians, heads of state and celebrities. And he started the process from a prison cell, society's bottom rung. He lived the truth that hanging in there does make all the difference:
“The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”Accustomed to falling, Mandela taught us how to get up again.

These days, as he comes down the home stretch, I am reading his amazing autobiography (Long Walk to Freedom) and am impressed by the wisdom, grace, and humility of this man.

He says:
“I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.” 

Our visit to Robben Island, his prison for 18 years of 27 years, was a pilgrimage for me of deep significance. Madiba, affectionately called by his clan name, is the prisoner most remembered of all the men incarcerated there. Everyone is familiar with his number, 466/64. The 466th prisoner admitted in 1964. The photos of the narrow cell with the stool, tin plate and cup, and bucket are familiar. His notoriety and later, fame, have lasted after other names faded. 

What makes Madiba so loved and so mourned, in anticipation of our collective loss? This question will occupy my heart thoughts for some time to come. Reading his books will help as well as talking with people whose lives were affected by his work, his dedication, and his leadership. But I suspect the way we feel about him has more to do with the character of the man. His deep humility and the grace he gave others so generously.





As I looked at the smallness of his cell, the thinness of his mat, the dents in his plate and cup, the humiliation of a bucket for his necessities, it struck me that those things were all outside of him. Very possibly he felt freedom even behind the bars and razor wire. He understood the prison of the mind that kept his captors imprisoned, and he resisted the urge to sink to demeaning others. Freedom is an internal thing, a reality he determined to live, and in so doing he taught a variegated nation that:

“. . . to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

Mandela, feel free to linger as you overlook the vista of your life; your long walk is nearly over. You arrived at Freedom some time back and have been so gently trying to show us all that Freedom's door is wide open and all we have to do to enter is let go of what keeps us locked within ourselves--

In 17 days Madiba will turn 95.  His condition is critical, but he has accomplished so much else in his life journey, that whether he makes this milestone or not will not matter.

Robben Island: imprisoned

A choppy, hour-long boat ride out of Cape Town brought us to the small island invisible from the mainland: Robben Island, Seal Island in Dutch, describing its original inhabitants. But people long ago decided that a remote, inhospitable, barren islet was just what was needed for those things that needed doing in isolated, inaccessible places. 

Knowing the outline of the history did not prepare me for the emotional encounter of the physical place. The rocks, the endless quarry, the sand and stunted trees, the relentless wind and the cold. It was significant to see Robben Island in winter. In summer, it  might have seemed delightful--a getaway, an escape. But people didn’t escape to there, and we learned of none who escaped from there.

First, it was used by the early Dutch to incarcerate difficult chieftains. As time went on, and population grew, the lepers became a conundrum, so it was used as a leper colony. We saw the leper women’s church, an Anglican relic; the leper men’s church had been torn down. In odd bureaucratic rationale, male and female lepers were held separately, to prevent children being born with leprosy. In fact, 46 children were born on the island (despite the segregation) and all of them were taken from their mothers and given to people on the mainland. Now only a graveyard marks the memory of the thousands of lepers who lived out their lives on this piece of rock because of others’ fears.

Much later the island became a prison for criminals, housing a small town for the guards’ families as well as prison buildings. 

The final denouement of Robben Island was the inclusion of political criminals during the period of South African history (roughly 1950-1990) known as the apartheid era. The political criminals lived in maximum security built for/by them from the slate quarried on the island. The buildings are stark and cold, the rooms small, the facilities barren. 

I saw the small cell that was Mandela’s “home” for 18 of his 27 years of captivity. It held a sleeping mat, a stool, a tin plate and tin cup, and a bucket. When he lived there, the windows did not have glass. I shivered in my layers of clothing. 

Nelson Mandela is lying in intensive care now, suffering from lung issues brought on by the conditions he and his fellows endured on Robben Island. We stood in the courtyard where the prisoners sat on the ground and broke stone with hammers. We rode in tourist buses to see the quarry where the men hacked the stone with pick axes. And we heard about their indomitable spirit. The spirit of hope that caused them to educate one another, learning letters written in quarry sand, and inspire one another--to never give up until South Africa was a country for all colors.

Many thoughts pierced deeply into my heart that day on Robben Island. But the forgiveness of the prisoners was the one that affected me most of all. As former inmate Mbatha described the conditions, the food, the treatment, he brought the reality of his seven years on Robben Island into full view. But he harbored no bitterness. As a guide at this world heritage site, he works alongside former guards. He admitted it was not easy at first, but he has learned to forgive.

Perhaps it was Mandela’s model which taught him. Mandela, whose choice to let go of vengeance and focus on healing has set a beautiful tone for the new South Africa. Mbatha is a joyful person, a delightful guide, and a living touchstone: we are not defined by what we are capable of, we are defined by our choices.