People help the elderly and share beer, some provide transport for those who do not have their own… and the burden of living in mother Zimbabwe seems a little lighter.

This sense of community harmony is seen nowhere better than in rural communities, where families struggling to find the elusive US$ are bartering amongst themselves without fear of being cheated, which they almost certainly would be in the big towns.

Recently I met an old granny in Seke rural and we talked as long lost relatives, the warmth that the old woman exuded was so inviting that I found myself wishing she was a true blood relative. It felt good to be a Zimbabwean.

We shared lighter moments of a time in Zimbabwe when a billion dollars could not buy a loaf of bread. It was a funny discussion, where we both managed to skip the valleys in the country’s history and touched on the hills which culminated in the introduction of the US dollar.

Life she told me is now better as compared to the inflation era, when it was hard to save. Now she told me with a gallon of maize she can trade with the miller at the noisy grinding meal to have her maize ground into meal.

In order to go to school, her orphaned grandchildren work at school for the teachers and save the money for school fees.

She does not have to worry much over putting a meal on the table, for with her bare hands she has a flourishing garden where she grows vegetables that she sells in the community, the income she uses to buy the basics.

I was lulled by her frugal existence, that seems so peaceful and free of trouble, but then I recalled that it is one thing about being Zimbabwean, we take life too lightly.