This summer, I went back to Zimbabwe. It was a journey that took me straight to the heart of my family’s love. I hadn’t seen my grandmother and aunts in a very long time, not since the day we buried my mom. The day after we said our goodbyes, I set off for Canada, carrying with me a lifetime of love my mom had poured into me. She was my lifeline, my teacher in everything I know about motherhood. A devoted stay-at-home mom, she raised us with a love so full, so patient, that it continues to guide me daily as I raise my own children.
Returning to Zimbabwe felt like being drawn back into the warmth of my mother’s womb. Being with my grandmother and aunts, experiencing their love so freely given, I felt like a child again, deeply adored and nurtured. It was as if they wrapped me in invisible arms that whispered, “You are enough, and you belong.” To be “enough” meant I didn’t have to strive or prove myself. It was a quiet assurance, a sense that just by being myself, I was treasured. And to “belong” wasn’t just about family ties—it was feeling at home within myself, feeling held in a place where I am deeply known and completely accepted.
The feeling of being back there, surrounded by their love, awakened something I needed. Curious to understand the source of the unshakable joy I saw in my family and friends, I asked my grandmother, ambuya Sisiriya and my aunt mama Chipo why Zimbabweans seemed to always have so much joy. Their response was simple yet profound: “Our joy comes from love.”
My aunt, mama Chipo explained that as she was growing up, my mom, her older sister, would take care of her with a gentleness and adoration learned from their own mother, my grandmother, ambuya Sisiriya. This love was like a gift, passed down through each generation. It was taught through quiet, everyday acts—a gentle hand, an encouraging word, a watchful eye. “Love is modeled,” mama Chipo told me, “it is not taught in words but in actions.” It’s a legacy, a practice passed from mother to daughter, from family to family, over years and generations. In that steady, nurturing environment, love turns into joy—a joy that can’t be contained. It spills over into laughter, dances in our eyes, and shapes our lives.
She told me, “Love is the opposite of jealousy.” Jealousy and love simply cannot coexist. Where love connects, jealousy divides. Love celebrates others, while jealousy competes. Jealousy looks at the world with an anxious need to measure up, always seeing someone else’s success as a threat. But love is grounded in togetherness; it lifts and nourishes without limit. When we’re in the presence of love, it fills the heart so fully that there’s no room left for comparison. We see ourselves as part of each other, woven together by a joy that doesn’t envy, but delights in the shared beauty of life.
As mama Chipo spoke, I felt the truth of her words resonate within me. Joy, she explained, is what naturally overflows from a heart filled with love. When love fills us, it overflows in ways we can’t control. It’s in our laughter, our warm embraces, our willingness to support one another. Joy is the gift that blooms from love. It doesn’t need perfection or praise, only togetherness. And so, joy rises in us like the morning sun, unbidden, casting light on everyone around us.
Returning home to Zimbabwe, I found myself held by the love that began with my grandma, ambuya Sisiriya, carried on by my mom, and lives on in my aunts. Through their eyes, I glimpsed my mother’s love again, and it reminded me of who I am and where I come from. It reminded me that the love we give and receive will always be enough and that in it, we always belong.