Fathers matter

The following is a repost from the Choshen Farm blog. The original post can be found at: Fathers matter

Happy Father’s Day, world! We are celebrating Jeremy and Grandpa this fine day and thinking much about all the things we could never have done without wonderful Dads in our lives. We are also thinking much about Zambian Dads today. We’re not sure if anyone in Fimpulu knows that its Father’s Day today. We’ve never heard of a Father’s Day celebration, and we’re fairly certain that the Sunday School classes are not making “We heart Daddy” cards this morning. But what we know to be true is that there are many wonderful dads around us.

Golden is teaching his daughter English. And holding her. Those two things are so rare.

Jimmy is the only man we know who has been present for any of the births of his children.

Boniface is raising his children in the Lord.

Joshua is always the one to take his children to the clinic – something usually considered women’s work.

George is a grandfather many times over, but he is probably the most tender hearted man we know.

These fathers are the kind of people that make us smile and challenge us to love our child and other kids around us with constancy and fervor. But, in many ways, these fathers are unique. The cultural climate for fathers in rural Zambia is quite different than that of North America. In general, fathers are providers and nothing more. They are not spiritual guides, guidance counselors or play mates. There are certain tasks that the men will never do, such as cook or clean, and they will absolutely under no circumstances ever ever ever change a diaper. Men raise their children to do one thing only and that is respect his authority. A heavy hand (or tree branch) is the means by which this respect requirement is communicated and enforced. And what about love, you ask? As we’ve interviewed many young people, asking if they feel loved by their dads, the responses vary from, “I suppose he must,” to, “Haha, no.” to, *blank stare.*

Many NGOs have recognized the lack of positive participation amongst men and have endeavored through various programming to change that aspect of the culture. Let me say that again – the secular world has largely taken up the charge to influence fathers – not the Christians. While many Christians are busy with “gospel work,” many fail to connect the perceptions of earthly fathering with ones ability to see God as father. If you grow up in a house where dad gives you things when you do well and beats you when you do poorly and that’s pretty much the sum total of who dad is and what he’s like, wouldn’t it make sense that your view of God would be cold, distant, and legalistic? And that is exactly what we find in the vast majority of churches. Our desire to emphasize fathers in gospel communication was confirmed some time back when we talked to a teacher at a seminary in Lusaka who said that they only recently started introducing a class on human relationships and fatherhood. And the result? Grown men, seminarians, tough as leather Zambians, curled up on the floor bawling because they had never known fatherly love and therefore, in their heart of hearts, assumed that God hated them too.

Many of the students that we have discipled over the years have given us similar feedback. We’ve been told several times that it is a shame that we must refer to God as father. “Unless if God were mother, that would be much better. She was much kinder to me." The negative associations with fathers is disheartening for many reasons, not the least of which is the destruction of a fundamental theological concept.

And so on this Father’s Day, we remember the men who are admirable dads for the children who so badly need them to be. And we remember those whose relationships with their fathers are strained, and we pray that they may be encouraged and healed by the Father they need more than anything.

Bashi Winnie Changes Diapers, and my claim to fame

Mansa is our little shopping town, and as long as I've been frequenting there for bread and cheese and canned beans, I’ve never really had my own identity. When I was serving with the Peace Corps, I was just another volunteer, easily confused with other generic white girls and called Christina, Jessica, Bonnie, Kristin, Becky, and Elizabeth. Because all white people look the same so clearly I’m her.

After I got married, I became the one married to the guy with the Land Rover, which apparently made me very cool and all the gas station attendants wanted to be my friend. Everyone knows Jeremy – and the Land Rover – and so this became my own claim to fame. I rode far on that title, answering politely as people would start a conversation not with "how are you?" but with "how is Jeremy?" (He's stellar, by the way.)

And then, one day, it happened. I had been sent into the market to buy some dried fish or something and a bunch of ladies were all like, “oh hey, we know you, you’re the one married to the guy who changes diapers!” Beaming with pride and cackling as much as the fish ladies were, I accepted my new moniker. Hand on hip with head tipped to the side, I said, “yup, that’s my man.” 

After asking Jeremy where this one came from, I finally heard the story. One day he had been with Bronwyn in the market’s car parking "area" (calling it a parking lot would imply some kind of order - so, we'll call it an "area") and the babe needed a diaper change. So Jeremy, being  a confident and secure man, not to mention a caring and kind father, simply changed the poopy diaper. In the three minutes that it took to remove the dirty diaper, wipe her up and slap a new diaper on her, a sizable crowd of men had gathered to stare and point and wonder really loudly who is this man that changes diapers??? 

Winnie baby, you are also awesome, and I hope you do not feel too exposed.

I've asked all my Fimpulu friends and they all say the same things: rural Zambian men CANNOT change diapers. It’s not possible. The child can sit in his poo until his mother returns. Or grandma can do it, or the big sister, but not the man because that is way too beneath him. If ever there were something on which to slap the label “women’s work,” it would be diaper changing. I only found one or two fathers who have ever changed a single diaper, and for them, it was a very humbling experience and under severely extenuating circumstances. So the fact that Jeremy, the Land Rover driving, barbed wire hauling, greased hands, man's-man – the fact that THIS GUY publically and unabashedly was found changing a diaper in the middle of a macho-guy infested public place… well shoot, that sealed it right there. Bashi Winnie is the new diaper changing celebrity. And I, proudly, am the diaper changing celebrity’s wife. 

I think of the American women of my generation who are fighting tooth and nail to establish their identity and leave their individual mark on the world and staring down the constant threat of being known merely as wife and mother. I understand the fight, but  I can honestly say that I’m content that hardly anyone knows my real name or my personal awesomeness. I’m rather quite honored to be connected to such a man of enviable fame who is talked of near and far because of his guns of steel and baby powder softness. 

Because after all, it takes a rather special woman to snag such a hunk of a diaper changing man. 

Eat your heart out girls, he’s mine. And Happy Valentines Day babe.

doesn't your dad do this?

Hi my name is Bronwyn and my dad kills six foot long forest cobras that are rounder than my fat little thigh. Mom tells me he’s pretty awesome, but it seems like no biggie to me. Doesn’t everyone’s dad do this?

Happy Saurday everyone.