GROWING up in Harare, there was a couple that many admired. It was doing well, at least by urban middle-class standards.
The husband had a respectable job at one of the leading companies in the capital. It rented a stylish apartment in Avondale, a suburb that symbolised affluence and stability.
Life seemed good. The couple was “sitting pretty,” people would say.
However, in 2016, everything changed. The husband lost his job during a round of layoffs. And just like that, its lifestyle — built on a single income — began to crumble.
With no steady income to maintain its lifestyle, it was forced to relocate to Budiriro, a high-density suburb where it had built a modest house.
The wife could not come to terms with this change. She had grown used to the trappings of their former lifestyle — comfortable surroundings, social standing and the illusion of financial security.
What was meant to be a fresh start became a daily battlefield. Fights began. The resentment grew. She was unwilling to adapt to the new reality. She clung to an artificial life they could no longer afford.
Unfortunately, this story is not unique. It is the silent reality of many couples, families and individuals.
- Mavhunga puts DeMbare into Chibuku quarterfinals
- Open letter to President Mnangagwa
- Feature: ‘It’s worse right now than under Mugabe’: Sikhala pays the price of opposition in solitary cell
- Masvingo turns down fire tender deal
Keep Reading
There is an African proverb that says, “when the music changes, so must the dance”. It means that when circumstances shift, we must be ready and willing to change in response.
Stubbornly holding on to outdated habits, expectations or lifestyles in the face of a new reality leads to ruin — financially, emotionally and spiritually.
Change is inevitable. Whether it comes through job loss, economic downturn, illness, relocation or a personal crisis, life is a series of unpredictable rhythms.
And the people who thrive are not always the ones with the most resources, but those willing to adapt. Resilience is not about perfection or pride. It is about flexibility. It is about recognising when the music has changed — and finding a new rhythm that matches the new beat of life.
Zimbabwe, like many other countries, is a case study on the need for adaptability. Over the past decades, the country has faced a rollercoaster of economic shifts — hyperinflation, currency changes, job losses, among others.
Those who have managed to survive and sometimes thrive are not necessarily the most educated or privileged, but those willing to “change the dance”.
They have switched careers, moved cities, changed consumption patterns, embraced informal trade or downsized their lifestyles — not out of failure, but out of wisdom and necessity.
Unfortunately, too many people remain trapped in the illusion of stability. Pride becomes a barrier. We fear what others will say if we move from a leafy suburb to “locations”, if we stop driving a car and take public transport or if we leave a white-collar job to sell tomatoes.
But dignity is not in possessions or status — it is in the courage to face reality with grace.
The couple mentioned earlier could have turned its situation into a triumphal story. Budiriro may not be Avondale, but it was its home — a rare privilege in a country where many still rent accommodation.
With collaboration and humility, the couple could have rebuilt. But because one partner could not accept the changed music, the dance fell apart.
Their story serves as a painful metaphor for what happens when people cling to the past instead of embracing the present.
There is no shame in adjusting. Life has seasons. Some seasons are of abundance; others are of lack.
In a drought, you do not keep watering a lawn you can no longer afford. You let it go brown, focus on essentials and wait for the rain.
Changing the dance does not mean defeat — it means strategy. It means you are still in the game, even if the rules have changed.
So, to the young couple struggling to make ends meet, to the retrenched husband ashamed to be seen selling airtime at traffic lights, to the university graduate who now runs a small poultry business — take heart. The music may have changed, but you are still dancing. And that is what matters.
In the end, survival — and eventual success — belong to those who move with the rhythm of life. When the music changes, so must the dance.
- Cliff Chiduku is the director of marketing, information and public relations at Manicaland State University of Applied Sciences in Mutare. He writes here in his personal capacity. He can be contacted on [email protected] or call/app +263775716517.
