Life Is Easy If We Make It That Way

I've lived half my life in Zimbabwe and half in the United States, and that contrast has taught me one thing: life is easy if we make it that way.

In Zimbabwe, people are happy. They laugh loudly, dance freely, and live slowly. According to mainstream media, they're "poor." But I've realized the world often equates not having with unhappiness, as if peace only exists behind a credit score.

My grandparents built their home in one month — mortar bricks molded by my cousins, a few bags of cement, and pure teamwork. No debt. No mortgage. Just family and freedom. Meanwhile, in America, you can build the same house — maybe even better — but you'll spend thirty years paying for it. That's when I understood what true freedom is.

Freedom isn't having more than yesterday; it's having enough for today. My grandparents grow their food, raise chickens and cattle, and live without alarm clocks or rent reminders. They are rich — not in money, but in time.

When I traveled to Europe, I saw a glimpse of that same rhythm. People would smoke after lunch, sip tea, and spend hours in conversation. They weren't racing life; they were living it. Life is meant to be experienced — not traded away for a house you'll only own for a decade before you die.

Growing up, I didn't know about clothing labels. We wore whatever our parents bought — hand-me-downs, second-hand shirts from the open market, my dad's old coat, my brother's jeans that no longer fit him. It wasn't a lack of money; it was a lack of obsession. We didn't measure worth in logos.

Then I got my first phone at twenty, and the world changed. Suddenly, I could see what everyone else owned — their Jordans, their cars, their vacations. I began to want what they had, not because I needed it, but because I didn't want to feel less. Just like C.S. Lewis wrote in "The Inner Ring," I was peeling the onion — chasing a place among people who didn't even know I existed.

By twenty-two, I realized I was going nowhere. I had to course-correct. So I went back to my roots — to simplicity. Now, I wear plain shirts that cost a dollar, thrifted jeans, and a peaceful conscience. I'm not embarrassed — that's how I was raised. And it's liberating.

Because I've learned that: Happiness is peace of mind, not possessions. Freedom is control over your time, not your image. Success is alignment between your values and your actions — not your follower count.

In the end, life isn't supposed to be a race. It's supposed to be a rhythm — something you live with intention, not exhaustion.

So yes, life is easy — if we make it that way. But it requires unlearning what the world told us to chase, and remembering what our grandparents never forgot: you don't need more to live better; you just need enough.