Be a Man!

Last week my counterpart and I visited a farm school north of where I stay on the outskirts of Graskop. We've been making the rounds to schools in order to assess the needs of schools and any topics of interest we may assist with. The principal met with us who is loud, jovial and a bubble of life. He has been offering me a teaching position for several weeks now and is struggling in finding teachers for his school. A farm school is placed on a farming property, built by the farmer/owner himself in order to educate the children of those whose parents work on the farm. Often, there are no resources on the farms and children will walk for sometimes up to an hour in order to arrive at school. The biggest struggle I see on the farms is finding adequate teachers to commit to teaching in such an environment. Currently, this school I'm referring to called Driekop has zero teachers for the 60 kids there. The principal is currently the only one there to teach.

While there conversing with him, he begins to ask me at what age in America do people graduate from secondary school. I told him 18. He laughed and scoffed at me. "Really!" He said. I laughed and asked why that surprised him, seeing as how that is the standard age of graduation here in South Africa as well, regardless of it happening infrequently. He then proceeded to explain to me that it's too young to finish school. He believes the normal age to complete school is 21. I don't blame him considering that is often true here, especially in more rural areas. I was explaining how most students progress back stateside, meaning we complete school at 18 typically and proceed to college the following year to receive a degree between 4 and 5 years. He continued to laugh at me, stating that I was incorrect. When I asked him why, he said, "Men can't be men." I looked at him blankly and wondered what his mind was getting at. He went on to ask me if I am married. "No," I replied, "but I have a boyfriend." "Where is he!" Well, I explain that he is currently serving as a PC volunteer in Uganda and I have just returned from visiting him. He asked if we have children. "No." He is stunned and his loud persona suddenly became very quiet.

After several seconds of silence, he looks at me and tells me like it is. "You are not a man unless you move around with the women. Your boyfriend will need many girlfriends in America and Uganda and South Africa. Look at myself. I have 12 children. I can wipe my hands and say, I am a Man!" I explained that is not what I was taught growing up and that my boyfriend as well was not raised to believe in that. He interrupted me to again tell me that he does not even know where all his children are or who the women are. I asked what he does to provide for the kids. "What you mean! Isn't it that there is a mother there to take care of them." I asked him why he does not feel he needs to help his 12 children. He then explained that is nothis role. He wants to die with everyone around him saying that he made a legacy, that he fathered strong people and that he knew what it was to "Be a Man!" He said he does not feel complete. He wants to father three more before he feels that he can allow himself to move into another life.

This man is not old. He appears educated and attached to the school and the childrens' education. I said that I would love to show him where I come from so he can understand that. He could not understand why I am nearly 28 and do not WANT kids. He feels that I am letting down my species and went on to explain to me that my life holds no value at this time. He said that until I allow myself to experience many men and fill my life with multipl children, I am unable to say that I have been successful. I looked at him for a while before saying anything. I asked him why he feels I am not successful. He said, "Look at you!" and then the conversation was over. He switched to Swati and he and my counterpart were jovial as if nothing happened. I sat in awe as they conversed, thinking to myself how after a year of hearing such things, it still makes my stomach turn to know that most men I've interacted with tend to feel similarly. As we stood to leave, he said, "Now, you come back to me when you decide that you want to make your life real. Allow me to provide you with a child, and then I will be able to stand tall." He patted me on the back, laughed and disappeared into a classroom.

While driving back with my counterpart, I asked him his thoughts on it all. He laughed and insisted he was joking. I explained how I have heard this in multiple provinces from multiple age groups of men. He shrugged and said, "Look, Rebecca, we live in a factory. It's like puppy mills, but for children. No matter if you are sick or healthy, people manufacture kids. They know how to make them, but don't know anything after that! It's just how we black people are!"

No matter what they believe it takes to be a man, I think it takes more for me to look these fellows in the eye and say, I like my way of life. Knowing they will never comprehend it doesn't seem to matter. If being a man means manufacturing children as if they are a piece of furniture, then I am all the more thankful of knowing where I come from. I will never become used to this concept and will never accept being told my life is less valuable than theirs because I am unwilling to produce children at any time. This conversation has sat with me for the past week or two now, turning my stomach each time I reflect upon it. I am happy to be here simply in that I can show someone that there are other ways to live your life. I want to show them my father or my parent's friends. I'd like to introduce them to the dozens of men in my life, my boyfriend included, who value their life as much as the next persons. I would love to show these people here that at the end of the day, nobody really cares what happened except that you work hard to respect others, respect yourself and find purpose in your day. To those in my life, that is what someone would want to be remembered for; man, woman or child.