The Ladies and The Men.

Here, there are tree covered mountains to one side, silhouetted in exquisite simplicity by the descending sun.  Everything is golden and warm; a cool breeze blows from the lake side where the moon is beginning to show her fragile face.  There are two German shepherds curled up beside the fence and a donkey named Jack tied to a tree nearby.  Two charcoal stoves happily boil pots of water for soup and shima (maize meal, the staple East Africa dish).  The only part of me that isn’t completely black with black Malawian sand is my toe nails; the bright pink color painted there is hanging on by the sheer will power to retain my femininity.

It’s my last month on the Race.  I’ll be honest, that fact fills me with a wild mix of emotions.  When I think that in 23 days I will land on US soil, be able to hug my mother and end this journey the way it began (with a meal at Cracker Barrel, Mama, hint hint), I’m speechless.  It’s bittersweet. 

God knew what He was doing when He brought us to Malawi last.  It’s my favorite place we’ve been yet.  He knew that I would be captivated by the visionary, prophetic, Spirit-led, hardworking body of believers, by the brilliance of the sky at all times of the day, by the Lake of Stars, by the history of missionaries (thank you David Livingstone) and the warm hearts of the people.  He also knew that this would be the perfect place to continue to trim away the many fears I still have about coming home, about life in community, and about—what else—men.

In addition to our incredible South African contacts (Future Racer, you would be so blessed to get Zehandi Ministries on your contact sheet.), we’re also working alongside a group of men from a Cape Town Bible college.  These men (and one very brave woman) have committed a year to working with Marie and Johan on the property.  It’s rare for me to be very impressed by a group of guys my own age, with many of the B Squad men being a very recent exception.  It’s even rarer for me to be stunned on a regular basis by them.

(Eduan, Patrick, Jurie, Marie, Gerard, Johan, Imile & Annelle with Squad Leaders & Teams Selah & Siloam.)

These men stun me.

It’s more than their fierce dedication to Zehandi’s vision.  It’s more than the backbreaking hours of work they do in intense heat.  It’s more than the bricks laid without complaint. The constant laughter.  Their quick adaptation of our feedback method.  The many trips to the well a day. The days on cooking duty.  The children they find smiles for.  The gentleness with animals.  The names they remember. The way they pray and worship.  All of this is impressive, to be sure, but what really shocks me is the way that none of this seems to be out of the ordinary for them.  They expect it of each other and themselves because this God-fearing, honest, forthright, compassionate, work-hard-play-hard mentality, do-what-must-be-done-ness, is what they believe a man is. 

Even more surprising to me is the deference they have shown to our women, who they consistently refer to as “ladies.”

Here, although we women work just as hard as they do, there is a sense of respect for our separate-ness from them.  We are valued for being strong, feminine women.  We’re spoken of with the highest admiration, treated with absolute respect, given sacrificial preference.    

It’s a small thing, to call us “ladies”, a simple choice of words.  The connotation is much greater, I think.  A lady is a woman of grace, of honor, of beauty and of light.  She provides emotionally for her family and friends.  She works hard, relieving the burdens of others.  She is admired and taken care of by the men around her.  She takes care of them as well.  She allows them to be men, as they allow her to be a woman.

Here’s just a small example: Marie’s birthday was on Sunday.  That morning, as we gathered for breakfast, the men said they had an announcement to make.  After making a short speech in Afrikaans, they pulled off their sweatshirts, revealing t-shirts that read “TEAM ZEHANDI” on the front and “PROVERBS 31:29” on the back.