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It’s our unofficial writing club. Three women whose high school passion was writing. We met as often as we could. Today, our meeting was at Ilejẹun Jadesọla. We wanted to keep the spark of writing alive. Iwa, Ire and I discussed the short story I wrote. I listened to their edits and suggestions. “Thanks for your input.” I smiled. “I’ll consider them.” Ire then read her story below;
The Humanist Christian
“So what does it mean to be a feminist?” I heard him ask the lady. “It means I am secure as a woman and I don’t need a man to complete me.” She responded. “That’s wrong.” He continued. “You need a man to complete you. Don’t you know that God created women for men? A woman is incomplete without a man. You are disobeying God if you are not married. A man can live without a woman but a woman cannot live without a man. You have been deceived with western propaganda. You are Nigerian. You came out from a good home. You are educated. Don’t listen to all that nonsense they teach you. You need a man.”
The lady looked at him for one second. “Do you even listen to yourself? If God created women for men as you presented, which is true, then it is man that is incomplete without a woman, not the other way round. Anyway, I truly don’t care what you think. I have better things to do than to squabble.” She bent down and picked up her bag from the adjoining seat, muttered an “Excuse me” and left the table.
Why was I not surprised? Many Nigerian males are insecure. The word feminist sends them into escapism and they become self-acclaimed philosophers. I imagined his reaction if the tables were turned around and I asked him the same question he asked her, “So what does it mean to be a sexist?” It would be nice to examine his response.
Later on that day he came to meet me. “I was told you are a feminist. You of all people. Where did you get that jargon from? Please don’t disappoint me. Tell me it’s not true.”
I was tempted to behave as the other lady, utilize the defiant, silent treatment approach. I decided not to yield to that temptation. “What is your definition of a feminist?” I asked him. He responded “Women that disobey their husbands and teach other women to do the same. Women that are rude, obstinate and violent. Women that are not submissive. The word of God commands women to submit. It doesn’t command men to submit, it commands men to lead. Women are to show their love to their husbands by submitting to them. Tell me you are not a feminist. I heard you minister the word the other day and I was blessed. I thanked the Lord for you. Don’t add to my sorrow. Is it true? Are you a feminist?”
“Agape love is patient and kind, rejoices in the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, love…” I said gently. He interrupted me and asked “What has that got to do with my question?” I looked into his eyes for a second and responded; “I said that to keep myself in check so that I do not become unnecessarily excited. Apostle John assured us that we know we have passed from death to life because we love the brethren. You are part of the brethren so I agapeo you. Your definition of feminist does not match mine so by your definition, I am not a feminist. However by some other definition, I am. It all depends on the point of reference.
“So what is your own definition?”
“Someone who believes that males and females were created equal by the God of the bible and should have equal human rights. In Genesis, God told us that He created man in His own image, and male/female He created them, He gave them the same commands and in Ephesians, Paul under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit stated that there is no male and female in Christ, but we are one.”
“Well, I believe that too.” He muttered.
“Really! I overheard you tell a lady today that God created women for men, that a woman is incomplete without a man, that a woman was disobedient to God if she was not married, that a man could live without a woman but a woman could not live without a man, that she was deceived with western propaganda. That did not sound like equal rights to me.”
“Well I did not mean it like that. Look there are many women now who are making life unbearable for their husbands because of feminine rights. This is
Nigeria
, this is
Africa
, we are not western, we don’t live by western culture. All that nonsense has to stop. Our culture must be honored. Women must respect their husbands as they respect our Lord Jesus Christ!”
I continued softly; “Agape love does not envy, does not vaunt itself, is not puffed up, does not behave itself unseemly, does not seek her own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil, never fails.”
He asked again “Why are you stating the love verses? We are talking about feminism!”
“As I responded earlier, I do that to keep myself in check. Otherwise I’d be tempted to do some S.S.S.”
“What is S.S.S.?” He asked.
“Slap somebody silly” I responded.
“Well if you’re not comfortable discussing the topic just say so and I’ll leave you alone.” He retorted.
“Oh comfort is not the issue I’m dealing with.” I replied. “Anyway, let’s focus on you. I’d like to make a suggestion. Write down your beliefs about women, their essence, worth, purpose, and rights, then take a concordance, look up the word woman, wife, female, virgin, sister and mother in the bible and compare what you believe with the principles set forth by God. I believe that if you do that, many of your questions will be answered and the confusion, cleared up.”
My pager went off. I checked the number. It was urgent. As I excused myself and got up, I prayed silently that he would study the word and show himself approved to God a workman that did not need to be ashamed of his workmanship.
C-R-A-S-H!
What was that? It was the garbage truck outside. There’s been a little accident. Oh my! I was in my cozy little bedroom. There was no feminist and sexist. I was alone. The article I was reading on feminism, sexism and Christians was still on my desk. I had fallen asleep. It was all a dream. I was dreaming! It appeared so real too. Well, dreams are dreams. I think I’ll write my own article. I’ll title it the humanist Christian. After all, that was who I was. I believe that God made humans equal.
She was sited in front of me as we journeyed in the train. She was Nigerian and Yoruba. Wincing her face to show her passion she firmly stated, “I don’t believe a woman can be a pastor. We women are not equal to men. In fact, I don’t believe a woman should be a minister of the gospel. Just tell your fellow woman that Jesus saves and that’s all. A woman must not operate the pulpit, that is only for men.”
She looked at me expectantly. Where do I start? I wondered. This is obviously a deluded, ignorant, most probably baby Christian. Why do I suddenly wish I were dreaming? “Have you ever heard the term female sexist?” I asked her. “No.” She responded. “It’s a term I use for females that oppress other females and exalt ungodly males at the same time. You sound like one.”
I proceeded to explain Genesis 1:26, Galatians 3: 28, Ephesians 4:11, and others. Inside me I was thanking my Lord Jesus for making me a feminist -, or, to use the more politically correct term, a humanist Christian. I’m so grateful I’m not a body but a living spirit in Christ Jesus, my Lord, endowed with a female body. Alleluia! – The end.
Iwa giggled as Ire finished. “Girl that was something. Nice piece. You sound like a mini drama queen. Who made you angry? Did you wish you had slapped that lady on the train silly? That was a good job.”
Ire: So you think I was just venting. Derbrah, what about you?
“I think it’s very interesting. Lovely work. Well done.” I responded. “I just don’t agree that women were made for men or vice versa. Women were made for God and men were made for God. Marriage was always in God’s plan for us. We are all equal. All that selfish battle of the sexes is one of the plots of the Devil to keep us distracted from the truth.”
Ire: So you don’t like it too.
“I didn’t say that.” I responded. “I think it’s a lovely piece, really! Actually, I would like to have a copy of it. You raised some gender issues which is shortchanging everyone.”
“Time for mine.” Iwa announced and she read;
“I title this, Our first anniversary.
It’s about five o’clock in the evening. He was late again. This was not the first time. He was usually late. However, tonight was different. It was their wedding anniversary. Surely, he could have made an effort to be on time. She fought the inner desire to call his cell. She’s heard the words “I’m sorry.” so many times, they’ve lost their meaning. Demilade, where are you? She remembered when they had met. She remembered their first date. She remembered their first kiss. She remembered his proposal. She remembered their wedding. She remembered their honeymoon.
The chiming of the clock brought her back into reality. It’s six o’ clock. That means they would be late for their reservations tonight. Demilade, you sloppy boy, I don’t know why I love you so much. Well, we’re in for a duel tonight. As she walked to the phone, it rang before she could touch it.
The voice on the other end was leveled and professional. “I would like to speak with Mrs Demilade Afenifere. I am calling from
Life
Hospital
…” Minutes later she was grabbing her car keys and racing to the hospital. What an anniversary! She was going to spend it by her husband’s hospital bed.”
Iwa: So what do you think?
Ire: Good. I think it’s neat. Short and sweet.
“Lovely.” I responded. “Just lovely.”
Iwa: Thanks. But give it some gas. What do I need to work on?
Ire: You could have given more description on how they met, why they fell in love, etc. She looked at me for support.
“Some information about the kind of job she held, if at all.” I responded. “The type of job Demilade had could also be added. Were they Christians? Those are my thoughts.”
Ire: I like that name Demilade (crown me with a crown). It reminds me of the hymm crown him.
Iwa: Me too. I like the name. Actually, I got it from a church song, Demilade, Ọlọrun mi demilade iye, demilade, Ọlọrun mi demilade o.
Ire: One of those unbelieving songs.
Iwa: What do you mean?
Ire: God’s word says He’s crowned us, you’re asking Him to do what He’s already done.
Iwa: Hmm. So I should change it to, Oti demilade, Ọlọrun mi ti demilade iye, oti demilade, Ọlọrun miti demilade o.
Continued in part 2
Derbrah writes courtesy of Agape for All Ministries. Author retains copyright.
Jadesọla’s restaurant is a drama ministry of the Yoruba Christian Women (YCW), an international faith-based non-governmental, not-for-profit organization. Similarity of names and stories are coincidental. Feel free to copy for non-commercial use. Commercial use requires permission. For more information on YCW write Jesutoyin Ajikẹ-King (toyinking@yahoo.com).
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Posted by Robot| 16.09.2007 09:37