WE, in the village, are steadily working, and indeed every brick counts, even

the small ones, chipped on the side, passed over in the pile. That’s how we’ve been building in the villages across

the country. Slowly, persistently, often without applause. And as I walked through the grounds of the Zimbabwe International Trade Fair (ZITF) this week, I was reminded again: what we are building here is not just a market, it’s a bridge.

At the ZITF the air was heavy with ambition, it was palpable. You could feel it — in the way people carried themselves

— every one meant business. But underneath all the hustle and bustle, I kept thinking about the quiet dreams of those who did not come to exhibit, the villagers, the cooperatives, the backyard producers, the ones who came not to sell, but to learn. The ones who are building Zimbabwe brick by brick, not always with capital, but always with intent.

This year’s ZITF was different. Yes, the turnout was better compared to the last. Yes, the exhibitors were bigger. But that’s not what mattered most. What mattered is that more of our people

are beginning to realise that trade fairs like these aren’t just for the already established. They’re also for those of us still on the way. We may not have big machines or fancy branding, not yet, but we’ve got something far more

valuable: the will to grow. The courage to ask, “How can I connect with someone who can help me export?”

That’s what so many of us are after now, real access. We are no longer just thinking about growing for the local market. We’re thinking bigger. We’re looking at our relatives in the Diaspora and asking, “Why shouldn’t they be buying from us directly?” They miss the taste of home. They long for the things that carry memory, madora/ macimbi, handmade baskets, peanut butter ground the traditional way, the

smell of masawu and tangy baobab fruit.

There are markets waiting in Leeds, Johannesburg, New York, Gaborone, not just for nostalgia’s sake, but for quality, authenticity and cultural pride.

We don’t just want to send them love through WhatsApp messages anymore. We want to send products. We want to export. Not just for profit,

but because it says something when our goods cross oceans. It says, we are not just consumers of the world. We are contributors to it.

But we know we can’t do it alone. We need contacts. We need partners who understand labelling requirements, shipping logistics, customs declarations and Diaspora demand. We need to meet those who’ve walked this path before, the ones already sending honey to London, or handmade soap

to Ottawa. And where better to find them than here, at ZITF? Even if we’re not exhibiting, let us show up. Let

us talk. Let us take notes. We are building the beginnings of networks that could transform entire communities back home.

I met a young woman from Lupane who came with nothing but a phone full of pictures of her mother’s crafts. She didn’t have a booth. She didn’t need one. She stopped by three pavilions, asked the right questions and by afternoon she had a meeting scheduled with a logistics company and a Diaspora-owned retailer from London. That’s the kind of magic that happens when you dare to step into spaces you think aren’t meant for you.

But they are. You just didn’t know it yet. That’s why I always say, even if you don’t have the resources to exhibit, come

anyway. Walk the halls. Listen. Ask. Introduce yourself. Your presence alone begins the shift. Because when you start seeing yourself not as a small operator from Chivi or Dotito, but as a potential

exporter, your whole posture changes. You begin to imagine your product not just being sold in your district, but stocked on shelves in Harare, then Johannesburg, then New York. It becomes possible.

We often talk about building Zimbabwe ‘brick by brick’, and that phrase isn’t just about infrastructure or policy. It’s about people. It’s about ordinary Zimbabweans recognising the bricks they already carry, their skills, their products, their networks and asking, “Where can I place this next?” For many, ZITF is that place. A single connection made here can open a gate you never knew existed.

The Diaspora is hungry, not just for our food, but for our presence, our excellence, our innovation. They want to support. They want to buy. They want to partner. But they can’t find us if we stay

hidden. That’s why this moment matters. That’s why we must rise to it.

So, let’s keep coming, even if we don’t have business cards or export licences yet. Let’s keep showing up, even if we don’t speak English with polish. Let’s keep walking these trade fair grounds with purpose, because every step we take is part of a larger journey, a journey from survival to sustainability, from local hustle to global trade.

Let others look down on the slow, the quiet, the small. But we know better.

We know that those who crawled have cleared the path. And now, it is our time to leap.

• Businessman Tawanda Chenana is also a philanthropist and Secretary for Lands for ZANU PF Mashonaland East Province.