Bliss – Part I

I’ll try to make this as concise as I can – partially because I’m weeks behind, but mostly because I’ve forgotten nearly everything.

Christmas break was a wonderful affair, beginning with a ground-shaking concert at our church, led by our incredibly talented band - which includes Joseph.  As usual, we had a late start; as I was silently kicking myself and Timbit for having arrived on time, our worship leader appeared beside my chair to wish me a merry Christmas and smile and not go away. 

I stared at him. 

“Where is [Joseph]?” he asked behind what I could now identify as a slightly crazed smile.  “We’re just waiting for him!”

I was caught between offense (It’s not as if I keep him in my handbag for emergencies, you know.) and horror (My boyfriend – late??).  Horror won - as I scrabbled for my phone, I tried to ease the tension:  “Maybe he’s with his other girlfriend!”

It was our worship leader’s turn to stare at me in horror - thankfully, Joseph walked in just then, fifteen minutes late, smiling, and blissfully unaware of the lecture he was soon to receive on the importance of punctuality. 

Christmas itself involved a glorious morning of watching a children’s Christmas concert while gently rocking a sleeping toddler I’d lured into my lap with candy.  Then we met up as various families at Grandma and Grandpa’s, where I believe Joseph and I made our official debut as a couple to my side of the family (and there was almost no one to see but family – just the way I like it).  After a quick stop at a bakery (where the cashier demanded that I give her something more than Christmas wishes and then proceeded to cheat me of my correct change – Merry Christmas, Congo!), we had a second lunch with Joseph’s family – this is totally comfortable for me and doesn’t at all make my heart shrivel and die at the thought of the fallout if Joseph and I break up. 

Despite my fears of a doomsday when Joseph and I may foreseeably break up due to differences in financial and time management, personality, interests, passports, taste in food, etc., I do respect him and think he is a generally very sweet person.  However, not enough to have sex with him at all odd hours as the downstairs housemaids seem to believe.  After returning from a spectacular 4-day trip to Bujumbura with him (during which, as I assured Carrottop, we did not have sex), one of the maids confronted me.  As she is older in age, newer in position, and mainly Swahili-speaking by nature, my understanding of the following conversation was deeply hampered by incomprehension and shame.

“[Butters] is not there!  Your boyfriend left at 8pm!  He should leave by 6pm!  BoysSwahiliadinfinitum.”

Actually, he’d left at 10pm.  And while it was true that Butters was away on vacation, I wasn’t sure his presence would have had the effect she desired – he'd have been more than happy to shower us with contraceptives if we'd asked.  Finally, I’m no expert, but I was fairly sure it was possible to have sex even before 6pm. 

I’ve tried to be fairly open about my no-sex-before-marriage policy (admittedly not with our landlord’s housemaids), but may have been marginally quieter about my no-kissing-before-marriage policy (because I think it would finally drive Butters, an undeniably patient soul with very little experience with… me, to murder).  Perhaps it would be better called a hugs-only policy.  First base is a hug.  Second base is a longer hug.  Third and fourth bases are telling my mom that things are getting serious before the guilt becomes overwhelming.  As you can see, this has no basis whatsoever on whether my roommates are present or the time of day – I basically rely on self-assurance and trust in the man I’ve chosen to be alone with (sometimes even when the sun has set).  Because I don’t really know what I’m missing, I’m perfectly blissful in this ignorance until I’m married or until I die of a peanut butter overdose.  This is one of those inner convictions that (contrary to what many traditional cultures seem to think) cannot be controlled by curfews or changed by confessions of eternal love - if I wanted to have sex, nothing would stop me; my faith tells me that having sex with a man without the vows of marriage denies our intrinsic value and that of our Creator.  This knowledge gives me the strength to face the question of whether we’ve visited ‘the Netherlands.’ 

Another reason to avoid relationships is just to avoid the sheer shame of it all (but then I also would have so many opportunities for uncontrollable laughter).

Even leaving aside the question of sex, the pressure on our relationship in general is overwhelming.  Most locals who have seen or heard of us are certain (and usually willing to share) that we will either break up or that I’ll be impregnated before I leave to ensure that I will come back. 

That’s a good, solid level of trust to have in an international missionary at the end of her contract and a worship leader – the very fact that both these terms mean nothing is a sad commentary on the church and the life of the body of Christ. 

Captain has been asked whether Joseph and I are serious by a man who wouldn’t be able to do a doggone thing about it if we weren’t.  BFG, whom I would have thought to be more distanced, leaned across an entire couch to ask me avidly if Joseph and I had made any decisions about our relationship during our time in Bujumbura (we had – just likely different ones).  I think I must be the problem in all this – people think either that I am a wayward mzungu leading one of their precious lambs astray or that I must have conceded to date Joseph only as a prelude to (a very quick) marriage.  Both of these are wrong – I date with the knowledge that I’m doing nothing to violate the sanctity of marriage, and that I am perfectly free to break up if I don’t feel that God intends for us to be together.

Carrottop, whose opinion I most value as it is basically my own if I’d been raised as a normal person, gives me dire warnings about husbands in general with a minor in men from traditional cultures.  The joke’s on her – having grown up with the firm belief that men are generally stupid and more specifically toxic if unable to love their families as God intended, I am well aware of the error I’m committing.  Now if someone could just tell Joseph and my heart… 

Part II