By Benedicta Azakaye
At 28 years old, Nyansha Ncube is a wife, a mother of two, and a health care professional. But no matter how much life has changed, she still holds onto the memories of her childhood in Zimbabwe. Sitting in her living room, she recalls what it was like growing up as an eight-year-old girl in Matabeleland.
“I often think back to those days, running barefoot through the dusty paths of my grandmother’s homestead,” she said.
“Life was simple but full of joy. I remember the laughter, the smell of isitshwala cooking over an open fire, and the deep, steady beat of the ingungu drum at traditional gatherings.
“Those sounds and scents they stay with you forever.”
A childhood full of culture
For Nyansha, being Ndebele meant growing up in a strong, close community where respect for elders, storytelling, and shared traditions shaped everyday life.
“Our mornings started early, with the sound of a rooster crowing and women chatting as they fetched water,” she explains. “My grandmother would be sweeping the courtyard, spreading fresh cow poop on the ground. She believed it kept the home clean and spiritually protected.”
Unlike today’s technology-driven childhoods, Nyansha and her friends spent most of their time outdoors.
“We played ibhathi (a game like dodgeball), uphondo (a game with small stones that tested our reflexes), and umgusha (skipping with a rope made from old plastic bags). We did not need expensive toys, just energy and imagination.”
School life was strict but meaningful.
“Our teachers were tough. They carried a thin cane for discipline, but they also taught us about our history, especially Mzilikazi, the founder of the Ndebele nation.
“I remember singing traditional songs during break time, clapping, and stomping our feet. The rhythm would echo across the playground, it was our way of celebrating who we were.”
Food that told a story
Nyansha describes mealtimes in her home as sacred.
“The smell of isitshwala (thick maize meal porridge) would fill the air. We ate it with umfushwa (dried vegetables), inkobe (boiled maize), and sometimes inyama yenhloko (cow head meat), which my family loved.
“My grandmother always told us that food was not just about eating, it was about remembering where we came from.”
Although she was raised in Ndebele traditions, Zimbabwe’s cultural diversity meant she was exposed to many other customs.
“My Shona friends introduced me to sadza rezviyo (finger millet porridge) and told me stories about spirit mediums. I also got to know about the Kalanga, Tonga, and Venda cultures.
“Each of these traditions added to the beautiful mix of who we are as Zimbabweans.”
Celebrations and identity
One of Nyansha’s fondest memories is of the traditional ceremonies she attended as a child.
“The elders would sit around the fire, telling folk tales, while dancers performed indlamu, our powerful Ndebele dance. The women wore bright beads and izidwaba skirts, while the men dressed in animal skins. The ground would shake as they danced, and I remember feeling such pride in my culture.”
At the time, she did not fully understand the deeper meaning behind these traditions.
“As kids, we thought it was just fun. But now, I see how important it was it was a way of passing down lessons about identity, strength, and belonging.”
Looking back, moving forward
Now raising two children of her own, Nyansha is determined to keep these traditions alive
“Zimbabwe is changing, but our culture is still the foundation of who we are. Even though life is different now, I want my kids to know the beauty of their roots.”
No matter how much life changes, there are times when Nyansha feels like a child again.
“Every time I cook isitshwala or hear the beat of Amapiano music, I feel like that little girl again running through Matabeleland, full of dreams, connected to my ancestors. No matter where life takes me, that part of me will always stay the same.”
