Get Yourself a Girlfriend, or Two!

By AJ

When trying to think of a topic for this months column, I found myself skimming through accounts of women's travels to dig up some themes. Something that comes up again and again is outrage or at least incomprehension at how acceptable it is for men to be unfaithful to their partners in some countries.  I haven't done any kind of study, but from what I've seen and read, it seems like it's fairly common in Africa and Latin America.

Now, I'm not talking about the usual double standard; that a guy that gets around is a player whereas a woman that does the same is a slutty ho.  That still is fairly alive and well in the U.S.A.  I'm talking about an attitude that is so pervasive that, as a married man with children, your masculinity will be questioned if you do not have a few mistresses on the side.

Before I get rolling, let me be clear about what I am NOT saying.  I'm not commenting one way or the other on open relationships where all partners are in the know and agree to be open.  Purely from a public health standpoint, I will just say that great care must be taken (especially in southern Africa) because having concurrent sexual partners seems to spread HIV faster than serial monogamy (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/20/AR2007112001676_2.html). I'm also not in any way trying to excuse infidelity in a committed relationship.

What I am going to do in this column and the next, is to try to paint a picture of what this all looks like from a guys perspective.

Part I: Cherry Picking

As Beth points out in “Sexism and Candy” http://letsgogirl.wordpress.com/2009/12/15/sexism-and-candy/, there is sometimes a machismo that dominates male culture.  Sometimes it's strange how much resolve it takes simply to do the “right” thing when everyone around you says you aren't a man.
One day after school, Mr. Tshabang and I decided to go to the local clinic to try to build a partnership in the HIV/AIDS awareness campaign we were trying to start.  The clinic was located about 7 km from the school.  Fortunately we were able to get a ride from two other teachers, Mr. Ndlovu and Mr. Manchusi.  At the clinic, Tshabang and I brainstormed ideas with the nurses on topics such as condom distribution, testing drives, and educational talks.  After making a few plans for cooperation, we got back in the car and headed back towards the school.  After a few kilometers, we diverted off the main road and pulled up to a house.  Ndlovu got out and with a big grin said he'd be back soon. Manchusi joined him as they went inside.

Tshabang and I sat for a few minutes of awkward silence before I finally asked what exactly was going on.

“Ndlovu is visiting his 'cherry' in there.”

It took me a few seconds to make the connection and then it dawned on me.  'Cherry' is a slang term for a mistress.  I knew all of these men were married and had children, but were now far from their families because of work. Such is the nature of the South African migrant worker-based economy.  Mr. Tshabang waited for a bit before speaking again.

“You know, I really don't agree with that type of behavior.”

“I'm glad, Mr. Tshabang, because neither do I.”

In that moment of solidarity, Tshabang opened up.  Almost all the male teachers had several “cherries”, some of whom were students.  When he'd joined the school a few months ago, they had tried to pressure him into taking a few of his own.  He'd resisted and as a result had been ostracized.  He was here, in the desert, earning money to support his wife and children, over 700 km away, and the colleagues who should have been his support had pushed him away.

Mr. Tshabang is a thin guy. He is even skinnier than me.  But as I would learn over the years, his slight frame contained an incredible character.  He had a powerful voice, and would MC school events of hundreds of people without a microphone.  His legs may have been wires, but he could run like the wind.  And he had unshakable moral fiber and resolve.  He became one of my closest allies and trusted friends.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be the exception rather than the rule among the male teachers.  Even I got some of the pressure. Every month or so, somehow my conversations with Ndlovu would get to the topic of my love life. Having a girlfriend at home had not been enough to satisfy him. I had to have something going on locally.  One day I finally got him off my back.

“So tell me KB, how are you taking care of yourself?”

“Well, I exercise every day. I eat well and make sure I get a good night's sleep...”

“No no, I mean, how are you taking care of yourself?”

“I'm sorry Ndlovu, I don't follow you.” (The standard, play dumb strategy)

“You know KB. A man has needs.”

“Oh, you mean masturbation?” (The standard, make him really uncomfortable strategy)

“No! No more talk of masturbation.  You know it's only natural that a man has a woman somewhere. It's how nature works.  All the animals do it. When the lion is hungry, it must eat.”

“You know what the difference is between an animal and a man?  An animal is driven by its desires, its hungers.  A real man can make choices and be driven by principles rather than desires.” (I do realize that this statement is not entirely accurate for animals, but it served to make a point)

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is. So which one are you?”

With a laugh, Ndlovu quickly left the room and never brought up the topic again.
As I mentored the young men in my camps and classes, I could see some of them torn between what they thought was right and what the popular culture was telling them was right.  Tshabang and I tried our best to provide an example, but we were vastly outnumbered by the Ndlovu's.

I sometimes think that there needs to be a “men”ist movement.  Feminism has done a tremendous amount to raise consciousness in our society, and in particular to empower the women of today.  (There is still much to do on this front, as I'll discuss next time.)

For true equality, there must be more than feminism. There must be a substantial change in the culture of manhood that pervades most of the world today. I'm not talking about an emasculation as my male opponents might cry out. On the contrary, I'm talking about being a real man.

[Note: The incidents listed above are as accurate as I can recall.  Only the names have been changed, not because I want to protect guys like Ndlovu, but because I don't want to compromise the ability of future volunteers working at my site.]

Sexism and Candy

By Beth

At night I sit around with the boys and drink beer. We slap at mosquitoes while we chew the basics- soccer, women, who's talking about who. Most of the time I just listen; I have nothing to add to conversations like these. But this doesn't mean that the conversations aren't adding to me; I certainly learn a lot between the guzzling and spitting.

Like, for example, I learn that my boyfriend here, Kilson, is either a CIA-trained liar, or a really uncommon- and perhaps unpopular- catch here in São Tomé. Purely because he treats me like a perfect equal-- something that is quite out of tradition here on the island, where gender roles rule. Kilson and I get looks when we beat each other up in the city. He takes me on, anywhere, anytime.

We were walking yesterday, and between throwing punches he asked me if Faia didn't like him. Faia is tall, muscular, and a killer soccer player that hangs around the house to do Ned's gardening and to help him with some rehabilitating exercises, as Ned became sick five years ago and had his legs amputated. Faia doesn't speak much sometimes and doesn't shut up at others, is extremely, perhaps overly confident with his manhood, and, above all, will not let a women boss him around. He has a girlfriend, or perhaps a wife, or I'm not really sure what she is, that lives with him, though he's never home- he's always here, chilling with us. One time we went to swim in the waterfalls and he brought her. I think one point he touched her knee. I wonder sometimes what she is, exactly- either an accessory or a chore. Or some marvelous combination of both.

Anyway, Kilson asked me if Faia didn't like him. He was often quiet when Kilson was around. Kilson is similar to Faia in some ways and opposite in others. When Faia is quiet and judgmental, Kilson talks. He is always in search of an argument, and unafraid of confrontation. He enjoys understanding, in-depth, why people feel certain ways. He will talk to you for hours about politics, philosophy, secrets. When he enters a room, everyone knows him. He is quick to introduce himself to strangers. So when Kilson asked me if Faia liked him, it was curious. He really wanted to understand Faia.

I later brought up the subject with Faia, whose mouth fired off a mile a minute. “He asked you that without asking me??? If I were him, I would have just come up to the guy and asked him myself! What the hell is wrong with him! And FURTHERMORE, I would NEVER ask this question to a WOMAN! This is something man to man! The next time I see him I am going to ask him to tell me to my face!” It was such a needless overreaction that I am still enraged with Faia, hardly able to cool down, even weeks later. First off, I didn't want him confronting Kilson about this, who felt it was something to be asking me in private (I feel bad enough as it is revealing his words). And second off, a WOMAN???? And what the hell is wrong with a woman????

But I know what is wrong. To Faia, women are different. They have their place. Men deal with their man things in their man ways and women, among other things that do not include education, intelligence or thinking, make babies, grant sexual satisfaction and keep house. I'm not kidding when I say that this is what Faia believes. He thinks women are to be romanced for the sake of romancing...then nothing else. Otherwise they complain too much and they creep under your skin. He was raised this way; he can't help what he believes. It's a dying tradition on the island, but it's still real.

One time, Faia invited me to a party. He would never invite me as more than a friend- he's like my brother- but there is always a very low-grade tension between two heterosexuals of opposite sexes going out to a party or club together. And when he left to bring a friend home without telling me, and when I left because I was quite alone and bored at this party by myself, the next morning he was royally pissed. Apparently he had leaving rights but, as HIS guest, I did not. “Why did you leave?” He shot at me the next morning. “You came with me, you leave with me!”

The boys and I often find ourselves in quarrels because I tell them when I disapprove. They say I get angered easily. I take that for what it is. Though I find myself extremely culturally sensitive in most ways, feminism is not one of my negotiation points.

Dany is more modern and laughs at Faia's rugged lack of charm that, combined with a pretty face and nice body, dumb women put up with. But Dany still believes in what is very common here-- multiple girlfriends. Despite the boys' various attitudes about sexism in general, all three of them-- Dany, Faia and Abade-- are in equal agreement that it is entirely normal for one man to have three girlfriends at once, including, or not, the man's wife. Dany believes that if you can give all of your women love and attention, then there's nothing wrong with it. And besides, there are more women in São Tomé than men anyway. And if the women have a problem with it when they inevitably find out, they can leave. That is what their right is.

It makes me think of when Kilson takes me clubbing and leaves me for periods of time to go peel his female friends off the wall to dance. Kilson does not believe in polyamorous relationships but he does embody, in a analogous comparison, what Dany speaks of. Women line the wall of the disco with no one to dance with in a partner-dancing world. So the men have to walk around dancing with multiple women, a regular trick-or-treat, hopping from house to house to keep everyone happy.

It's the same thing really. If men don't date multiple women, well, who's going to date them? That's how the boys I live with see it, anyway. The women are sexy and beautiful, and are not to be wasted. The men, as I see their interpretations to be, are the intelligent, decisive keymasters, burdened by their inherent responsibility to make decisions for all and to ultimately keep the world spinning. And to some degree, the women believe it. That's why the girls in my English class still all failed their final exam- after getting a freebie when they skipped class on the first exam date. That's why I get mad at them and tell them to represent us right when they don't focus. And that's why on various evenings, when the beer bottles are empty and Abade is napping on the couch, I will see Dany spritz on his cologne and protectively wrap his arm around the waist of “minha jóia,” “my jewel.” And it's hardly the same girl twice.