When I Think About A Man...

I was asked once what I defined as a real man. My definition is not a checklist. I looked around and saw what could be seen, compared the experiences I have had and the men that I know and I think my young mind has come to an incomplete definition. I think I will only ever be able to truly answer this question when I am much older but for now….

My earliest memories of a man are those of my headmaster at Nkhwazi Primary School. His name was Mr Bowden. He was English, lived in Zambia forever and wore glasses atop his pointy nose. He had blue-grey eyes and sandy blonde hair, very thin hair, people used to say he wore a toupee. He always spoke carefully, never too loud and was always polite. My favourite memories of him are the days he read aloud to us, I will forever love the story in “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” because he read it so well. I used to think that if I ever met God he would look and sound like Mr Bowden. In those years being such a little girl, if you asked me what a man was I would have said, Mr Bowden. He kept us safe, he disciplined us, and he cared about us as if we were his own little children. I will always remember him smiling. That is not to say that my other male teachers were not men but nobody was better than Mr Bowden.

At secondary school, I didn’t care, boys were annoying…somebody kissed me in the ninth grade, I absolutely hated it, vowed it would never happen again. It really was disgusting though, saliva everywhere. Men never really mattered even after that. I was surrounded by boys, cute boys who wore Theirry Mugler’s “Angel” and told me pretty lies they copied from song lyrics. A bit of this and that and more boys in university, with no direction and nothing real to offer. Looking back it’s been a long road to here, and all along, I ignored the definition of a man. I should have listened to my mother.

Now I am 25 years old, been through a lot of ups and downs and seen a lot of things in my own life and in the lives of others. When I think about men, I think about my father, who took the time to help raise his seven daughters, cared about everything we needed and made sure we were disciplined. My father has never been cruel to me or my sisters. Even our beatings were always mum’s responsibility. He prayed for us and watched over us closely for as long as I can remember.

When I think about men I think about my grandpa. He used to work at the bank and came home every night like clockwork, always after 5pm and before 8, in his suit carrying his briefcase after a long day at work earning his money to take care of and provide for his family. Always prayerful and kind. To this day he is still my favourite guy. He doesn’t work anymore, but he stays at home quietly and firmly steering us through life, being a pillar of strength for my grandma, making us laugh and loving us in every way he can from the awesome hugs he gives all the way to sitting down under a tree with me to talk about heartbreak.

When I think about men I think about all the great people I have met in my life who stood up for their manhood and what they believed in and where it applied loved and cared for their wives and children.

Don’t get me wrong, that isn’t all there is to my definition of a man.

Family time and working tirelessly to provide are only part of it. Single men these days are a problem; especially where I am from. A typical young man these days has this kinda thought process where if he is in school, he studies to pass and spends weekends drinking, smoking, womanising and wasting time. The type that does anything different is rare. Once they get outta college, they get jobs, work till Friday and do exactly the same thing they did before, then at some point they add a woman to the equation and marry her. Then their life becomes, work to take care of wife, drink, smoke and womanise at weekends, go home to fight about it, maybe beat her up and then start again on Monday. A monotonous cycle that their poor sons will watch and then one day probably emulate. It has a lot to do with the culture in which we live.

When I think about my sons I want them to grow into real men, raised up in a different culture. Young men who will get a good and relevant education in the things they love and are good at. Men who will know the difference between leisure and recreation and time wasting.Men who will be polite, respectful and hardworking; who will fear and love God, who will love and respect all the women in their lives and cherish and protect them because women are bringers and nurturers of life. Young men who will plan and prioritise their lives, make right choices at work and in play and move with direction and focus into the destinies they are meant to fulfil.

When I think about a real man that is my definition, the type of man who cares, loves, protects, tells the truth, is well-spoken, educated in the things if life if not educated in books, because some great men never really went to formal school. When I think about a real man he is the type who provides for his family, finds a good woman and treats her as such, does right by her, tells the truth to her, makes her part of his essence, will not beat and abuse or misuse her or take her for granted or leave her at home to go chasing after children who cannot keep the homes they themselves are kept in.

When I think about a real man he is the type of person who knows himself, recognises his weaknesses and faults, knows what he wants and where he is going, someone who can lead and hunt for success and for peace and happiness for his soul. When I think about a real man he is a whole person, not a person struggling with demons within himself and punishing those around him for his own inadequacies and shortcomings; he is the type of person I want to have around because I know he will protect me and love me and live his life in peace with me because he has found and he knows himself and he is perfect in his imperfections ad going exactly where he is destined to go.