Remembering Baba on His Birthday, A Table Full of Love and Lasting Memories

Today is Baba’s birthday.

Even though he passed away on the 1st September 2014, 1 July will always be his day. A day that lives in my heart, not just with grief, but with love, joy, and the kind of memories that shape who you are.

Growing up, birthdays in our home were always special. Baba made sure of that. It wasn’t about expensive gifts or grand gestures, it was about togetherness. Family. Laughter. Love. He created rhythms that made us feel seen, cherished, and celebrated.

Some years we stayed home and gathered around our beloved dining table, the same one Baba and Amai bought in the 1980s. That table stood in our home for over 40 years, witnessing every celebration, every story, every meaningful moment. We only replaced it last December, and even then, it felt like letting go of a family member. Now I understand why my parents held onto it. It wasn’t just furniture. It was memory. It was heritage. It was home.

On Baba’s birthday, the table would be full of all his favourites: T-bone steak, boerewors, rice, sadza, fresh salad, a bottle of wine, and always, a cake from TM Hyper. Those meals weren’t just about food, they were about belonging. They brought us together, reminded us who we were, and made us feel loved.

Other years, we’d go out to eat in Bulawayo, to Bon Journe or Southern Sun for the buffet. I can still picture those outings, the excitement of getting dressed up, the joy in Baba’s face as we laughed and talked over plates of food. And it’s no surprise that Bulawayo still feels like home to me.

Because it is home.

Bulawayo holds a part of me. Every time I go back, I feel settled, like I don’t have to try to be anything. It carries memories that give me a sense of belonging, a sense of being accepted, a sense of identity. It reminds me that I have my place. That I am valued. That I am worthy of love. And it brings me peace.

Now I understand why.

Because of those beautiful times we shared. Because of the love Baba and Amai poured into every moment, every meal, every tradition.

Today, as I remember Baba, I feel his absence, but even more, I feel his presence in everything he built. In the way we still gather. In the way we celebrate. In the way we love.

Maybe we’ll have steak and cake today. Or maybe we’ll just sit around a table and tell stories. Either way, we’ll honour him, not with sadness, but with gratitude. Because his legacy lives on. In us. In our hearts. In our home.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Baba.

You are missed.

You are remembered.

You are deeply, deeply loved.

And your love still holds us, one memory, one meal, one moment at a time.