Hide and Seek

“Where are you?”

For some very strange reason, this is one of the questions many people find uncomfortable and harrowing, especially when this is asked by an intimate partner. I think God knew precisely where Adam was when He asked him this question, "where are you?" And if we really need to be honest with each other, this should be a very easy one to answer. I mean it's just 3 words thrown together in order to gain perspective of one's location. Just 3 simple words. Where. Are. You. I mean, really, nothing could be simpler.

The reality, however, is that this is a very loaded question. It’s much heavier than the 3 words that carry it.

I was chatting with my neighbour recently, and very profoundly yet randomly, we spoke about how important it is for people, particularly those in intimate or close relationships to call each other on the phone and ask that question, which many find uncomfortable, "where are you?” That discomfort, for want of a better term, is what we need to focus on.

When Adam was asked that question, he knew exactly what God was asking. A shift had occurred in their relationship and he had found himself totally displaced. So then God asked Adam to define his position in relation to Him, and that is one of the things Adam must have been running away from.

I wasn't there in the Garden of Eden and I speak with no authority on the matter, but I imagine Adam and God had an intimate relationship and friendship. So deep was their relationship (I imagine) that when God merely appeared in the garden, Adam (and Eve) hid. They just had to hide. They couldn't face him, for reasons that are obvious. An agreement had been breached, a covenant was broken. And Adam couldn’t face the aftermath and consequence of that fractured relationship.

God asks Adam a very simple question, “Where are you?”

In many ways, we continue to grapple with that question today.

In Sesotho, Sepedi or Tswana languages, when you ask a person how they are doing, you say “le kae?” The direct translation of this simple question is “where are you?” So in other words the question of how you are doing has to do with your positioning in life. Not a positioning of your physical location, but it is about your positioning in the cosmos. The appropriate and normal response to that Sesotho question is “ke teng”, which means “I am here”. I mean, isn’t this just so profound? I wish I had words and a way to really unpack how profound this is. I am here, I am present, I am integrated with my past, present and future, altogether in one place. I am not disintegrated or scattered. I am. As you see me, so I am. I am. And because I am, you can then relate with me. Ke teng.

Relationships are about constantly asking questions. Let me repeat that. Relationships are about constantly asking questions. (Pretty thick coming from a single guy ain't it). But seriously, in relationships, you’re always asking questions, especially in the early stages. It's important that you do. And one of the critical questions to ask is precisely the one which Adam dreaded being asked that horrible day. And that is the question Sesotho speaking people are asking each other today, albeit in slightly different contexts.

This might not go down well, but I’m just going to go ahead and say it: we are always hiding. That's the reality. Always hiding. We are either hiding or are hiding things. And like our forefather and foremother, we hide behind clothes and all these material things we work so hard to attain. I will work SOO HARD so that at the end of the month I can earn some money that will allow me to buy an expensive piece of clothing that I can hide under. We are so crazy about and fixated on hiding things. Call it covering up, I call it hiding.

Unlike Adam, why can’t we just stand and declare our position? Naked or not. Compromised or not. State your position.

                                                         (www.cutestpaw.com)

When my neighbour and I were discussing this concept of “where are you”, she affirmed its importance by giving an example of how even at work, she would pick up the land-line and phone a colleague on the land-line extension and go on to ask “where are you”, although it would be very obvious that if they picked up the land-line phone, they should be sitting comfortably at their desk.

In relationships, people are constantly trying to find and locate one another. We are forever seeking to know where our loved ones are, as we should.  The big thing though is that this question’s intention is not simply an attempt to determine the physical location of the person, but rather an attempt to know or perhaps have the person define their positioning as it relates to us.

Maybe it is my naiveté, but what I said to my neighbour  was that I believe any person in any sort of relationship should be able to, without any fear of prejudice, ask their partner where they are. I cannot see how you can relate to a person without knowing where they are. I can’t.  It’s not possible. And no, it’s not creepy. I’m not creepy. Really really. It’s just a matter of really trying to understand how to relate with you at that particular point.  

If, at the worst case scenario, you ask me that question and I happen to be at a compromised position like Adam was, that is all the more reason why your question should be justified. I say, ask your girlfriend that question and don’t be ashamed to. Ask your boyfriend, husband, son, daughter where on earth they are. Ask them. You must. And they must answer.

Let’s stop this thing of hiding. It is so 1920s.

Once you start struggling answering that question “where are you?” then you should really start asking yourself “where indeed am I?” Like a Sesotho speaker, are you able to confidently say “I am here”?

If not, then, as we say in the mines, makhulu problem.

In defence of Hope. Fathers matter

By Sibo Lefalatsa

You will remember that Livhuwani introduced me to you all by referring to a talk I gave about the place of men in the family. The place of course is here, there, everywhere, wherever your family needs you and wherever you have something to give, it’s not a place per se it’s a presence.

I have a love for this topic because I’ve often felt unique in my experience, while many spoke of their grandmothers I spoke of my grandfather. I’m a mother, with a second on the way, there is no doubt my kids need me, no one doubts the need for a mom but I am a big advocate for dads, that the love that exists between them and their children should be respected. I’ll take it a step further, I actively push for it, I just want my hubby to be able to be himself and his son to just know him, they’ll work out the rest themselves. Let’s be honest, in our communities, in the way people speak, both men and women, men are encouraged to be these hovering entities who perform a role instead of being allowed to just be there, chilling, laughing, playing, bored, excited, interested, tired, annoyed.

So that’s why I want to share just two of my favourite memories of my dad and grandfather, just for the heck of it, they just happened to be there and made these memories happen.

First memory:

It’s the day before my wedding, 7 years ago, the church grannies have arrived in their numbers to help prepare me for this momentous undertaking. Seated around me and each given an opportunity to leave me with a word for the journey. Lo, it was about 1 and half hour of negativity.

“Marriage is tough, you are now about to enter a life of misery and tears”

“Men are cheats, all of them, oh your man is a Mosotho? Well prepare, Sotho men in particular are the biggest cheats, they have a certificate in cheating”  J

“You’ll wet your pillow with your tears, that’s how tough it is, but yes please make sure to do so quietly. There’s no need for the man to know you’re upset with his mom”.

“A man is a crocodile, what you’ll be sleeping next to in bed is a crocodile!”

“You modern women, your husband’s are afraid of you, we’ll tell you what they want, they want you to wear dresses not pants and if you do insist on these trends cover your butt with a long top”

It went on and on…

Then, suddenly my dad stood, he’d been there all along but I hadn’t noticed him in the cacophony of misery. My dad, normally does not do the emotion thing, he’s the guy you go to for the “go to school, do well at school, toughen up, you can do it” type of dad. I go to him for the “300” or “Braveheart” just before an epic war moments rah rah rah!!!!!! talks, he will get you off your, oh poor me moment and get you ready to kick some serious butt! Defeat? What is that?

That guy, stood up amongst those grannies and said “S’bo, you deserve to be happy in marriage. If we  believed that we were sending you off to misery we wouldn’t do it. Please believe that you can be happy and we want you to be happy”

I love this. I live by this. That he stood up right there and then, not waiting to talk to me in private afterwards, that he spoke directly against what they said. My Hope was restored. What those women said may seem funny, 7 years later, but they did affect the way I saw Hape and not in a good way. Can you build something walking in with that kind of hopelessness, anger, distrust? Sure you may be preparing me for what might actually happen, but it also might not.

My dad, I suppose being a man was a little wounded by such assumptions and I’m glad for it. I understood, I had to give my hubby a chance and I wasn’t being sold into slavery. My family, not knowing for sure either, Hoped for me a happy marriage. That was all I needed to hear, misery is not a given, defeat is not inevitable, I can fight for mine and my family’s happiness, we could try.

My nature is a fighting nature, I’m not naturally inclined to endurance. Give me a fighting chance and I’m up for it, and that’s what my dad gave me with those words

Second memory:

It’s a little over 2 years ago, not long before my grandfather passed away and we are in Durban for our regular family visits and hubby and I are sitting chatting away with my grandfather and then he points to a Mfeka family portrait that now includes hubby and our son and says to my husband 

“That’s my pride, that picture. I’m very proud of this girl, I’m very proud of her”. And then he carried on with whatever he was talking about, I can’t remember.

You know I’ve found, sometimes to my own amusement, that I’m not the kind of person who needs constant affirmation of self, in fact I’m pretty good at affirming myself, thanks. I mean I appreciate it, if I can get it, but I have a tiny group of people who occupy my inner space. I often wonder why that is, especially whenever someone has commented on my attitude. My perception is that one of the main reasons for that is that I got all the affirmation I ever needed or will ever need, from men I loved dearly and who loved me even more.

When my grandfather was at death’s door, I was anxious to drive to KZN asap. I was certain, given how close we were he’d wait for me before he left. He didn’t…

I searched for feelings of disappointment at this betrayal of our close friendship, and there was none. He had said everything there was to say, the day he told me and my hubby of his pride in me, a pride I thought I already knew and yet it meant so much more to hear him actually say it. To the extent that Sibo was concerned, the man had done his business and there was nothing to chase after him for.

So potential dads, this is why you need to fight tooth and nail to be present as yourselves not personas for your daughters and sons (and their mothers, we need a lot love to darn it J):

Growing up and even now, when a man or woman, anyone really, but especially men insult or mock me or try to bully me, I always think, “I’m loved by men who sacrificed a lot for me and my wellbeing, I would never, on God’s green earth insult them by taking your word for who I am over their word, I have far too much respect for them.”

I’m not saying that every child growing up with dads and grandfathers thinks like me or that without dads they can’t be confident and strong. I’m not even saying everyone should be so self-assured…actually no they should, every woman deserves to be self-assured, not just that bombastic “we’re all beautiful” talk, I mean we’re not all beautiful and we’re not all beautiful all the time, so what?...

I mean real self-assurance, based on receiving the unearned love and pride of God your Father and God-willing, the love and pride of a father here on Earth.

I’m just sharing a story, that’s all. If you as a man knew that there is a chance, even a small chance in the midst of the world’s madness, that you could give that kind of self-love and self-assurance to your son or daughter, wouldn’t you do it?

Well now you know…

Peter Pan does not live here....

By Sibo Lefalatsa

I am going to tell you something that will blow your mind.

I’m smart, no not kinda smart, no not smart only from studying for my exams from neat lecture notes and scoring an A. I mean smart smart, business savvy and strategic in my dealings. I’ll call you out on a statement that is not well thought out. You can ask any of my friends, I brook no quarter. I’m not ashamed of that, in fact it doesn’t bother me at all and I won’t hide the fact that I am smart from your relatives or your friends, it is what it is.

I’m also funny, I’m actually very funny. Not funny like, I don’t know where on the map the North-West Province is, no I mean, I’m funny because I know stuff (I read a lot of books) and I love teasing people. I do banter well. You don’t like being wittingly teased by a woman? That’s a shame….for you, because if I meet you and we have a conversation it’s going to happen to you, I like it when it’s done to me too. Oh and I must add I’m not ashamed of that, in fact it doesn’t bother me at all and I won’t hide the fact that I do it from your relatives or your friends, it is what it is.

There are many things I won’t hide from your relatives or friends, I won’t hide my job, my title, my personality. I just won’t, because I don’t want your people’s confidence to be paid for by my lies. If you have a problem with me, begin a process of working on your issues, or dump me, but don’t try and control what people know about me, be free about that stuff.

You know what else, look at me (okay look at my profile pic) am I wearing a green top, green tights and a pointy green hat? No? You know why? Because I don’t suffer from a Peter Pan complex. I’m grown and I like that. I don’t have my 19 year old innocence or my 19 year old naiveté and I don’t suffer from a child-like need for acceptance, so I’ll ask you tough questions, I’ll be very direct with you, as adults do and I expect a reasoned and intelligent response. You know why? Because you won’t dismiss me like that.

You’re probably wondering why so heavy Sibo? Who sucked the sugar out of your lollipop?

 It all started 2 weeks ago and I must tell you, I’m pissed.

Answer me this, why do people in this country find it so easy to talk down to women? I’ll give you the two particular incidences that got me annoyed.

I was watching eNCA and Nkepile Mabuse was interviewing the newly appointed Minister of Women. They were discussing the disgusting scourge of abuse against women. Nkepile asked why the department was not undertaking research to have a better understanding of the causes and possible solutions to this abuse. The Minister said that while it’s true that they have not done that research and they can’t explain the disgusting situation we are living under as South African women, she felt that women must empower themselves, because, of the cases she mentioned where women were killed by their boyfriends, those women should have walked away from those abusive relationships before they were killed.

You know what, I’m going to take some time to vomit, but just before I do that, let me say this, no woman, no matter how dumb she is, deserves to be killed by her partner. Why I didn’t leave is irrelevant. In fact let me put it to you this way. Those black men fed to pigs by their white boss (remember that horrific story?) did you think to ask their families why they didn’t walk away from their abusive racist boss before he fed them to pigs!!!!

 I will leave you to think about why you wouldn’t ask such an irrelevant and insensitive question and then realise how offensive it is for people to talk about women who should’ve walked away from abusive relationships after they’ve been abused and killed.

The next annoyance came during a radio show interview of a number of successful business women. These were not your average South African woman (who of course is not a successful multi-millionaire businesswoman). One of the ladies, said something along the lines of, you may be a CEO at work but you’re not a CEO at home. She also said cooking for your family is not abuse, anyway you can do it while drinking a glass of wine.

Whatever.

Firstly, no one needs to tell me I’m not a Corporate and Legal Affairs Manager at home just like my husband is not an Operations Manager at home (okay technically he is, but that’s cos he’s really good at managing operations J). Actually, I’m also the legal manager at home, because people, hubby, brothers, friends, parents come to me with business and/or legal questions and I apply my 9 years of high-level legal and corporate training in advising them, so there!

If I am bossy, that’s me don’t try to cut me down by suggesting I only discovered the ability to boss you around when I became CEO, anyway does it bother you that I’m a CEO? If not why do you care where I’m CEOing? Where have you ever heard of a man being told he is not a CEO at home?

Secondly and this might seem minor, of course cooking is not abuse, but it also depends. Maybe I can’t afford domestic help, I’m the breadwinner and I work long hours and I consistently have people waiting for me to cook. This is an unreasonable expectation and I don’t blame anyone living this circumstance believing it to be abusive. We are women but we’re not all living similar lives and yes a seemingly minor thing to me may be part of a series of burdens for you which take their toll. Basically, each woman will decide what they believe to be burdensome. I refuse to be told what should aggrieve me, old as I am.

Why would the Minister be so bold as to address me (a woman) when she doesn’t even know why the perpetrators of sexual abuse and murder do what they do? Does she think that highly of rapists and murderers that she would lecture me about when I should walk away from them instead of addressing their filthy conduct?

Why would someone, be so bold as to lecture me about how my profession should influence relations in my house and what chores I should be prepared to do, in my house?

I’ll tell you why, we are too accustomed to thinking that women are essentially child-like and need constant lecturing to remember themselves. We seem to also believe it’s okay to place the responsibility of having decent stable societies at the feet of women. We act as if the world’s problems can be solved by women behaving themselves, by us protecting our sons’ egos and generally insisting that women make life easier for everyone else, they are strong and they are nurturers aren’t they? They must also get out of the way of criminals, because they’ve spent all their lives being told to protect their virginity and virtue, they should be used to being held responsible for the consequences of indiscretion.

Well here’s my response… I’m not listening.

My strength and my ability or willingness to nurture will not be taken advantage of. It is not a ticket to expect me to labour under abuse, neglect or used to help maintain unfair power relations in my personal relationships. I’m not here to make any man or woman feel comfortable when there’s nothing to be comfortable about, I am not going to squeeze and bend myself out of shape to help you be more comfortable in life. I’m not ashamed of my life, my accomplishments or my job. I aim to be a decent and respectful person and I expect the same level of decency and respect from men and women to be addressed towards me and I don’t tolerate situations where I’m not afforded that respect and decency. If you’re looking for a 30 year old woman-child that you can scold and bully, please try the next door… I hope you find another woman who has had enough!

Healing the Family

I went to visit my parents one afternoon and my dad remarked, rather disappointed, that they had been expecting to see me the previous weekend. I responded very straightforwardly, "sorry papa, I was attending a marriage seminar". Now my dad is a man who can never hide his emotions. When he is sad, you'll notice it. Equally, when he is happy, you'll also see it. But this time when I mentioned where I had been, he had laughter written all over his face and it was very clear he was struggling to mask his amusement.

Finally, he burst out laughing as he could no longer hold back. This was all very funny to him. And I am sure that night when I left their house, I became my parents' private joke, like I usually am. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the moment I left the house, my sisters were immediately called to be told that this bachelor brother of theirs is now on a new mission, attending marriage seminars. People in my family like gossiping about each other, and over time we have all learned not to make the mistake of believing if you shared your secret with another member of the family, it would remain that way.

But to be fair, at some stage after laughing at my marriage seminar expedition, my old man did finally commend me for "preparing myself for the future" by attending marriage seminars, seeing that I'm as single as a monk. It would also be unfair of me to only paint the picture of my parents having fun at my expense for attending marriage seminars. The truth is that my folks are my biggest cheerleaders and supporters. Of that, I have not a single doubt. That's why when my dad started laughing at me I also couldn't resist laughing at how seriously I take myself sometimes.

In many ways, I love how we are able to laugh at ourselves, even in sombre circumstances. Recently, when we unveiled my biological mother's tombstone, my dad had us in stitches when he told the audience at the ceremony that regardless of how much he loved my mother, like in any marriage,  him and mom had their differences. He told us of an instance where they had had a quarrel and mom made it clear that she had had it. She was leaving. Apparently mom decided to walk out the house but only made it as far as the corner of our street. My dad teases and says he knew she wasn't serious because if she was, she would have at least packed one bag. We all laughed.

Ironically and at a more personal level, when I heard this little snippet of my parents’ squabble, I felt soothed. Let me explain why. I have mentioned elsewhere on this blog that I never knew my mother because she died when I was but a baby. So when my dad mentioned that he and mom had nothing more than a normal marriage which had its fair share of ups and downs, I felt he had managed to bring her to life in a very significant way.

Not only did he manage to bring her memory to life, he also managed to make her human. You see, because I never knew mom, in my mind she was something of an enigma, an angel, a surreal person, incapable of being angry let alone walking out on her husband during a quarrel. Dad remarried 3 years after mom died to a wonderful woman I normally refer to as my mother, because in many ways she is. Theirs is a beautiful marriage which assures me of the sanctity and importance of marriage in the building of families.

But the reason why I was fixated on my dad and late mom’s marriage and how they related is because of the direct biological and relationship I have with both of them. It was important for me to realize that marriages go through ups and downs. Disagreements are there. Quarrels happen. But after your argument, and when you've walked out in a fit of rage, it’s important that you calm down, go back and talk things through.

I am excited by the authenticity married couples around me are showing, particularly when it comes to the realities of marriage, and how possible it is to have a thriving marriage, even in the year 2014. In South Africa. Much as we lament the plight facing the institution of marriage in the country, there is a wave of optimism I’m seeing sweeping through the land. It might be small, but it’s there. Divorce might be on the rise, but there is also a new creed of openness that I think we must laud. Young black women and men are yearning for genuine and authentic talks about this institution called marriage, with the aim to restore it. And for unmarried young people, such as I am, this is tremendously important.

After Sibo’s post about marriage and the over-romanticizing in choosing life partners, it became very stark and clear judging from the responses we got, that many many young South Africans are yearning for an honest dialogue that will help us in re-building the family structure. Insofar as a platform of dialogue on these and other social issues is concerned, we are currently working on something. On this, we will keep you posted. This is an exciting time and I have never had better hope for our country than I have experienced over the last couple of weeks.

I knew an old man once. A deep, wise old man with incredible foresight and something I call “a sense of knowing”. After he came back to South Africa from exile, my friends and I would spend lots and lots of time with him at his house, learning from him, and talking about the country. Spending time with him was like a roller coaster ride. You would find yourself somersaulting from one moment laughing till your tummy ached and the next moment you would be sitting still because the room suddenly became emotionally charged.

Many times, we sat and talked, laughed and cried (yes we would) discussing  ourselves and where South Africa was headed. On certain occasions he would stand up while talking to us, and although he was still physically with us, he would be transfixed as he looked out the balcony, suddenly lost in his thoughts, kidnapped, and his mind would take him far away from us to a place only he could go. Just as quickly as he had "left" us, he would quickly come back, and simply say, “guys, I’m worried about the country”.  What he “saw” in his moment of “escape”, I cannot tell you for certain because he had gone to a different world where very few are able to go.

From time to time, I get glimpses, albeit very very small, of what I think he “saw”. At the very least, I think I understand why he would say “I’m worried about this country”. In these visits we would speak about the state of "man" in South Africa. We also interrogated each other on deep personal issues, for it is in looking into yourself, that you can be able to authentically engage with the world. And often times, he would sum things up by saying, "we are sick”. That, I know what he meant.

But one day I received a message from a friend of mine after I had been venting out my frustration about the country. She simply said, “don’t be discouraged man, God hears us and He will heal our land. He wants to”. Such comforting and encouraging words. This includes the healing of our women, our children, our men, from all strata of life. From the normal man on the street to those in power. And our families too will be healed. We are currently praying and preparing for that platform.

God will heal our land. He wants to.

"Then the LORD appeared to Solomon by night, and said to him: “I have heard your prayer, and have chosen this place for Myself as a house of sacrifice. When I shut up heaven and there is no rain, or command the locusts to devour the land, or send pestilence among My people, if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. Now My eyes will be open and My ears attentive to prayer made in this place. (II Chronicles 7:12-15 NKJV)

www.hbfamilyandsupport.ca

The Democratic Republic of Fantasy

By Sibo Lefalatsa

I’m going to start my article by admitting it might be controversial, maybe you’ll feel it’s a bit harsh. At this point I wish I could say something to make you feel good about what I’m about to say, I want to do the cowardly thing and distance myself from my own words, say something that will buy me some mercy, but…no, I have no sweet or humble words to offer so here goes…

There was a time, I believe that time is still with us, when women were always cautioned against overly romanticising relationships. It was always based on the fact that the romantic books they read, the fairy tales and the movies always promised the perfect guy, who’d come along and save them from their ordinary lives and their ordinary boyfriend/s.

However of late, something has crept up on us, it seems the music videos and the church have turned the tables on ladies. Now, not from the movies, but seemingly from the pulpit, judging by how men justify their now romanticised disposition. Gentlemen are now the hopeless romantics, fantasising about non-existent women with non-existent perfection, for their non-existent promises of commitment.

Now let me see… how many Christian men do I know, who are not married and have never been married, who tell me it’s not by choice, oh no, they are ready to marry, in fact, they say, they are desperate to marry, it’s just that they just can’t compromise. Oh the dreaded word C.O.M.P.R.O.M.I.S.E, it must be a generation X and Y equivalent of ebola or the bubonic plaque.

So being married I get offended, I ask, “so you think all of us who are married are compromisers who couldn’t hold-out for the perfect one?” No, is the answer, it’s different, good ones are taken and you’re lucky you met Hape hmmm…

Can I call Bulldust! when I see it?

If this were, say, one or two guys in my circle, I’d buy that, but it is in fact the vast majority of guys, so I’ll tell you what the problem seems to be. You are looking for a perfect wife who based on listening needs at least the following credentials:

·         She must be physically beautiful and a beautiful person on the inside. So that you can show her off to your friends.

·         She must be smart, but not smarter than you.

·         She must be a go-getter and accomplished, but she must also be willing to drop all that in case you want her to stay at home and look after the kids; or

·          keep working hard if you need the double income.

·         She must work hard but essentially to help you, not primarily driven by her personal ambition which you’ll struggle to control;

·         She must be the woman you can introduce to your work peers with pride and she must fit in “back home”.

I’m not sure if I’m the first person to tell you this but I have got news for you, the abovementioned woman, she doesn’t exist, just like you are not all those things either. It’s not God’s ability to make “good enough women” that I’m questioning, it’s your ability to accept the perfection that lies in two imperfect people trying to build a life together that they and their children can be proud of.

When I met my husband and realised that this relationship was headed in that direction, I asked my mom, how would I know I had met the right one. She said, “he should be a good person”.

Sounds too simple? Oh I’ve read from books and heard from the pulpit that he should also have money, and he must be strong protector type and a provider blah, blah, blah. I’ve had moments during our 7 years married, I’ve wondered whether this match is the right match, maybe I should’ve been more careful to pick someone more like me and I’ve counted the things I feel I’ve lost because I was married to him, but my mother was right.

 I think what my mother knew I would realise in time was that a good person, never wants to hurt or offend, even though he certainly will. A good person has their own dreams but never wants to harm yours, so you have to trust each other’s intentions because sometimes you can’t both achieve your dreams at the same time, but a good person appreciates the sacrifices of the other and is prepared to step back when it’s his turn to take a back seat. He doesn’t feel entitled to other people’s sacrifices. A good person is a person you can reason with, you can argue with, the one you can admit to the many ways you are sometimes arrogant, selfish, even mean, they will know to correct you when you are wrong and you will feel grateful for it, not ashamed and I’ll do the same for him.

A good person sees goodness in you even when increasingly you see the ugliness in yourself. Life, it has its moments and the bells and whistles of wealth, good looks, jobs, prestige, they have their value and they are important in their own ways but to experience them in the company of someone who is essentially on your team, who in your gut you know when you hurt they hurt is quite something. What is more romantic than that can I ask? You’ll work out the other stuff as you go along.

Can we cut the dramatic tales of frustrated searches for the non-compromise? No one needs to prove anything to you or meet your made-up standards.

I believe if you meet someone who falls in love with you round about the same time you fall in love with them and you trust their intentions of goodness towards you and they trust your intentions of goodness towards them, that’s a miracle, the appreciation of which must be declared to the world. I mean throw away the abovementioned shopping list and get married.

The drama, it comes with the ride, it’s the mere function of you both being imperfect, you can’t fix that. The prospect of defeat, it might not last forever that’s true, in fact more frighteningly, you, might be the one that doesn’t want it to last. Well isn’t that the case with everything you’re doing? Work, friendships, business, children, you don’t stop doing those things.

I close with this prayer for my people. Let us all put on our big girl and big boy undies and trust ourselves to handle the ups and downs of trying to build something, why can’t we be the Proverbs 31 [Wo]Man and “look to the future with confidence” so that we can appreciate and honour the perfection that we already have around us?

Where do we cross the line?

A few days ago one of my mates sent a funny joke to our Whatsapp Group Chat which I found terribly funny. It really was hilarious. It’s the sort of joke you can’t help but want to pass around. The only problem is that I thought my female friends might not appreciate it.

That’s the challenge I have – the funniest of jokes I always enjoy are the ones that aren't necessarily enjoyed across the genders. To share the joke with my female friends or not to share it, that’s the question. What I find funny, my female counterparts may find offensive. You see, men, generally draw fun and entertainment from enduring pain (both physical and sometimes emotional) and females don’t. I see it all the time. The games we played as kids. Actually, the games we still play as adult men. Every morning when we have our site meetings in the boardroom, you have to constantly look out because the guy sitting next to you might just pull the knob of the recliner chair to see you sink down, a feat which the rest of the colleagues (all males) will find utterly funny. I mean, our favourite pastime as kids was to have dissing matches. We loved making fun of each other. There was no such thing as “I take offense to that”.

Maybe that’s how we are made up. Look at how kindergarten boys entertain each other on the playground. And look at how little girls play. Two different worlds. I mean, the most fun I had during break (or recess as the Americans call it) at primary school was when the boys in our class would team up and challenge the boys in another class to a karate battle. And boy, did we kick each other, showing off our best karate moves. Man, I loved it. Girls, on the other hand – uhm, I actually don’t even remember what games they played during break. Whatever it was, it most certainly didn't end with one nursing a bruise from a flying kick or something crazy like that.

Back to the joke I got from my friends – I had a dilemma. Do I forward the joke to my female friends or not? Ugh, forwarding it to other male friends was a no-brainer, really. They’d enjoy it as much as we (the gents in my group) did. But what about my female friends? Would they be offended? The reality is I really didn't have to share it with them (girls). I could have easily enjoyed the joke with the boys and left it there. But my courage surprises even me sometimes. I decided I was going to venture into the lions’ den and see how far I could push the boundaries. I forwarded the joke to a few of my close female friends. Their reaction was confusing. All of them gave the same, confusing response. “This is sooooo wrong; but it’s funny”.

Now, a few years ago I worked in an all-male office. Boy we had fun. Passing around emails was, as would be expected, a normal thing. One day, a funny email was passed around. We all thought it was very hilarious. The email in question was of a cartoon, depicting two stone-age men engaged in conversation. One of the men’s wife is standing right behind him, and completely quiet – she can’t talk, she doesn't know how to, apparently. But she’s smiling. Then the man says to his friend, “I've decided to teach her to talk – what harm can it do?”. The joke in the cartoon is obviously that it is men that taught women how to talk. And much worse, because the man taught the woman how to talk, we now have the terrible world we live in today.

Obviously, this is a sexist cartoon and downright wrong. No question about it. Of course, I do not think that women caused the problems we have in the world, let alone that it was a man that taught a woman how to talk. But, I’m not going lie and be disingenuous  – I still find the cartoon a tad funny, albeit somewhat uncomfortable. That’s the honest truth. And the gender activist in me fights very hard not to laugh whenever I think of it.

So yesterday I looked for that cartoon. I then toyed with the idea of pushing the boundaries yet again – I thought of forwarding it to my female friends. But the difference this time was that I was going be forthright and deliberate about my actions. I wanted to interrogate why I found this cartoon “uncomfortable” and funny at the same time.

So I finally summoned all the courage I needed and I forwarded the cartoon to my sisters as well as my female friends. After sending the cartoon, I quickly asked each one of them if they found it funny. I didn't give them a chance to think. I wanted to know what their immediate response was. And the responses I got were confusing, for me, as a man. For fear of stigmatizing women and perpetuating gender prejudice, I will not post the cartoon here. In any event, an overwhelming majority of them found it funny. BUT, after I mentioned that I was doing research for the blog, the responses were “revised” and became a little bit polished. After this, some even accused me of tricking them. Eish.

My next question was to ask if they thought the cartoon was offensive. While some thought it wasn't really offensive, two of them thought it was – “especially since the guy was talking about his own wife”, one of them added. She was serious. And then another friend offered, “…because this (joke) is coming from you, I didn’t take it as offensive. Had it been coming from a dude who’s insensitive to women issues, I’d be offended”. This sentiment was echoed by yet another friend. Interesting.

Another close friend throws in a different perspective. She declares that the cartoon is not funny. This coming from her, I became interested. I asked her why. But as would be expected, her reason was rather "colourful", something I should have seen coming – “I have a reputation of talking too much, so this feels personal”. And then she laughs.

But then I also probed this one dear friend of mine on what she thought. Now, she’s an academic, so we had to “dissect and analyse” the cartoon. The funny thing though is despite her initial reaction of laughing at the cartoon, she then assumed a more firm position of declaring the cartoon offensive. I was not convinced, so I challenged her on this sudden change, but she justified her initial laugh as being directed to my question and not the cartoon itself. She simply refused to see the parody side of the cartoon. But we had fun.

But the funniest response that left me completely puzzled and back to square one is this here, from yet another female friend: “My genuine response was to laugh – but I had to remind myself that it’s offensive.”

After this last offering, I gave up. My female friends have to think about something before they decide whether it’s funny or not – even though they might have laughed at it. Laughing, as I've just learned, doesn't necessarily mean “it’s funny”.

(Thanks ladies (you know yourselves) for being such great sports and giving me confusing insights into the bewildering world of “female sense of humour”. But the thing is, I still don’t know where the line is and whether I've crossed it L).

But that’s not my biggest concern. Forwarding the joke was the fun part. The biggest concern is I still need to interrogate why I find the stone-age cartoon funny. The exercise was not only about recognizing where the boundary line is with regards to what jokes I can share with my female friends. Knowing where the boundary line is would only help me know what not to say to women, while I still privately find sexist jokes funny. That is the problem!

And for now, that remains my challenge. 

Power

(This is the first guest post by our Guest Blogger, Sibongiseni Lefalatsa. See my introduction of Sibo here.)

I was once offered a chance to partner in a business concept I knew nothing about, with a man I hardly knew and a promise that the money would be good. Now I worked with this gentleman so it was a professional conversation and friendly. After rejecting the idea he said, “I see you are more of a worker, you’ll be working for others instead of making money”, I told him, well I don’t work for money I want Power.

Many people associate power with dominance, superiority and control and for them it’s a zero sum game. If I’m not dominating, then you are. If you’re superior, then I’m inferior and if I’m in control then you are the one being controlled. When I speak of Power I speak of something far more liberating, a process of self-knowledge, acceptance and self-respect and appreciation and the use of this self-knowledge to influence: my circumstances; my future; my relationships; my finances, basically, whatever it is that matters to me.

My grandfather, was a very interesting man, the most influential person in my life, so you’ll bear with me, many things I reflect on will relate back to him and my grandma. I lived with them everyday along with my parents, I grew up with 2 generations of couples in the same house, my grandparents and my parents and that has left a big impression on me.

My missionary-school-educated-ex-headmaster grandfather married for himself a feisty woman. It was not beyond her during an argument to tell her opponent no-matter who it is, that, “I have 2 qualifications my dear, teaching and nursing, and I studied psychology, how many qualifications do you have?”. She was also known for butting in on conversations in which she was not a recognised participant. Men coming to seek counsel from my grandfather would be shocked to hear her enter the conversation. Unfortunately, they’d make a fatal error by seeking to reprimand my gran by saying “I came to speak to the man of the house, how do you as a woman interrupt”. My grandfather, would always promptly end the conversation right there by saying, “sir you have insulted my wife and I never accept that, leave right now”. ’Nuff said.

My grandfather had the added issue of having in me his only granddaughter, yet another argumentative, fight-to-win woman. What I loved about him and why we were so close was that he always took me seriously. Our arguments about religion, politics, history, gender issues were heated and sometimes quite tough. I loved them…I’ve seldom met men who without the exertion of the force of my character take me or many other women seriously at an intellectual level. My grandfather held his own in arguments, don’t feel sorry for him, he gave back as good as he got, but if defeated, he accepted, he acknowledged a well made point, even if it didn’t convince him to change his mind and  if an argument or a point made him change his mind he would openly acknowledge it.

He was powerful like that.

 It’s funny, because of all our fiery personalities, people got scorched and it was in these instances that he exercised his power. Our family had what I’ll call a “council”, the operation of this council was taken very seriously. Any member of the family, when aggrieved by another, especially where it was an inter-generational conflict, could approach my grandfather with an official complaint. The council would assemble with every member of the household in attendance (mom, dad, my two brothers, my grandmother and myself). During the council session, the complainer would be asked by Mkhulu to state his problem. It was no holds barred let me tell you, under the protection of my grandfather a child could even accuse an adult of lying if the accusation was that an untruth had been spoken. When an adult got annoyed they’d sometimes try to interrupt while one of us children were speaking, my grandfather would always reprimand the adult by reminding them that they’d have their turn but must allow the accuser to speak. At the end of the accusation and defence, my grandfather would if required refer to some of us in attendance for our views or you could volunteer your view. Soon the truth was quickly discovered and my grandfather would give his judgement.

Whoever you are you could be found to be in the wrong and required to apologise, and the accuser who often said something in anger during the time of the incident would be reminded to remain respectful no matter the circumstances. Everyone respected and I mean everyone respected my grandfather’s final word and everyone walked away feeling justice had been done.

What point am I making by recounting this memory?

I often notice how we as people in general but particularly in my experience men, seem afraid of the power of others in our intimate relationships. I wish they could understand how much power there is in being surrounded by powerful, self-assured people, women included. Being comfortable in your own skin so that even if a person told you they are better qualified than you, you are not threatened, it’s true isn’t it, so what? True undisputed power  that rightfully belongs to you, will be given to you simply by the implementation by yourself of your self-knowledge and self-love.

My grandfather made no secret of the fact that my grandmother was more of an intellectual than he was, he would tell us so himself. My grandmother never had to pretend not to be and she is a proud woman, no one had to cut her down. He asked for help when he was in over his head. Yet those around him knew their own weaknesses and felt comfortable to admit them in the face of someone who seemed comfortable to do the same. The same feistiness and tenacity that made us academically successful could negatively affect our relationships and we knew he had the power to influence us to a point of healing.

He did that with an authority that was never questioned, no one ever told us there was a council, it just came about by operation of the fact that we as children ran to him to help us reason with adults who we believed had done us wrong or adults who felt children were being unnecessarily argumentative. We did it. His wisdom, his calm in the face of heightened emotions and his strong sense of justice meant that we trusted him with our moments of shame and torment to come to the solution. He feared no other man or woman’s power or ability and was steadfast in his own. He always used to say to us that he didn’t want us children to fear him but to respect him and we should know the difference.

Power, let’s all have it within friendships, romantic relationships and families. Let’s give it away and cultivate it in ourselves. When you find yourself fighting for it…you’ve probably already lost it.