On 24 May 1994, as Zimbabwe danced to Banolila, its beloved Kalanga musician Solomon Skuza lay gravely ill.
The man whose voice had become part of the nation's soundtrack was fighting for his life.
His family refused to surrender.
They took him from doctor to doctor, hoping someone could restore the musician who had filled weddings, beerhalls and family celebrations with song.
When medicine failed, they turned to traditional healers.
They spent what they had trying to save him.
Yet as Solomon battled illness, another struggle unfolded. Despite selling tens of thousands of records, royalty payments arrived too late, while the relentless cost of doctors, traditional healers and treatment consumed the money he had earned.
Nothing worked.
Later that day, Solomon Skuza died while his family was still searching for a way to save him.
He was just 39 years old.
Zimbabwe continued singing Makhumalo Ntombi Yami, Salibonani MaZimbabwe and Ndangariro.
Wherever Banolila plays, Solomon Skuza still sings.
Long after his family had gone to sleep, Leonard Dembo would wake, reach for his guitar and switch on a tape recorder.
A song had come to him in a dream.
Afraid it would disappear by morning, he recorded himself singing and playing before returning to bed.
His wife, Eunice, said she rarely saw him sit down to write music.
Instead, Dembo carried melodies in his head.
At rehearsals, he would announce that he had brought a new song, then sing each passage and teach the members of Barura Express their parts from memory.
His musicians followed his voice and guitar until the song took shape.
From that private world came recordings that entered Zimbabwean homes, weddings, buses and beerhalls.
Sharai.
Venenzia.
Kukura Hakutane.
Sarura Wako.
Chitekete, the love song that became inseparable from Zimbabwean weddings and carried his voice far beyond Zimbabwe's borders.
Dembo left school after Grade Four and never learnt to read or write musical notation.
But while Zimbabwe slept, songs found him.
He captured them before dawn, took them into rehearsal and gave them to the nation.
Leonard Dembo died on 9 April 1996, aged 37.
The dreamer was gone.
The songs remained.
My friend and clansman stopped by for a chat and also helped me sort out an electrical issue at my home. He trained at Mutare Polytechnic in Zimbabwe, but he now works for the National Grid in the United Kingdom.
He is a reminder that when you study strategic, globally transferable skills, the world can become your workplace. Qualifications in fields such as engineering, electricity, and other technical trades often open doors far beyond your home country.
Many young people are rushing to pursue university degrees that offer limited employment opportunities, often because of peer pressure, when they could instead have earned a polytechnic diploma or technical qualification that would have opened far wider career opportunities around the world.
Ndichamubvunza kuti kana uri kuden unogona kuuya kuno seyi.😉