You know how they say a near death experience clears your mind? That's what I feel like 2007 - 2008 was in Zimbabwe. You know what I mean if you lived through it.

For those who didn't, 2007 - 2008 was the peak (the trough, really) of Zimbabwe's economic meltdown. Inflation couldn't be measured at its highest, but there are estimates that 79.6 billion percent. My post will explain a little of what it felt like to live through that- what it meant in real terms.

1.  Paper money is a lie. Money in general is a lie, but paper money isn't even worth the paper it's printed on. We put so much trust in those bits of paper, and we actually think we own something because we have bits of paper. Let me tell you something. If everyone agrees that that paper has value, that's great. If not, well: Zimbabwe. There was a thing we called 'burning', at some point. People would walk into the office, put their jackets on the backs of their chairs, turn on their computers, and then go back out onto the street. Why? There was a hustle where you could take foreign currency- forever to be understood to be real money, in Zimbabwe- and convert it to local currency, at some unimaginable rate. Which was fine if you were the one buying the foreign currency, because you got real money for nothing; but not so fine if you were selling, because you were giving away something for nothing. Because then you would take that money and go to the supermarket to buy some food, and possibly by the time you got there, the local currency you were carrying had lost some huge part of its value. I know that there were times when you'd go to the supermarket in the morning, and see the price of something; go away to find the money, come back at 11 am, and find it had doubled or tripled (or something) in price. That's the thing about money- it's actually worth very little. People sold their homes to get trillions / quadrillions / quintillions in the bank- but they could never use that money, and could never buy anything with it. Savings and pensions were wiped out. That thing you think it money is a mirage...
2. You can totally bake scones without the ingredients you are so sure you need. So, my neighbour had a craving the one day- not so surprising, because you couldn't get bread at all, and definitely not scones. Someone had sent her a care package from South Africa- acts of mercy that we cried over in those days- and there was flour in there. So she took the flour, a little oil (for margarine), a little rooibos tea (for milk), and a tiny bit of sugar- and she made scones. Now, most Zimbabweans already know you can make a type of bread on the fire using little more than flour and water... But you get attached to ways of doing things, and scones are always buttery and milky and light and wonderful... Right? Not really. You can do with far less than you think. Leading up to...
3. You can totally live on nothing. Most of what you enjoy so much isn't important. We did without so much in those days. I'm reminded of how the Israelites walked through the wilderness for 40 years, and their clothes and shoes never wore out. That's kind of what that season was like, in Zimbabwe. I didn't buy a new dress or pair of shoes in that time. I don't need the material accumulation that comes with modern life- although I can start to think I do, sulking when I can't buy my Ruby Woo lipstick. I can even do with far less food than I think. I learnt that deep lesson when all I lived on was sadza (the starch staple in Zimbabwe) and cabbage - with no oil, no tomatoes to add decent flavour. It's nice to have things; but it's not essential. I have learnt to appreciate the nice things that make life pleasant; but I have also learnt not to depend on them for life.
4. You can actually walk everywhere. So this is funny, but in his old age, my grandfather claims to have walked to Johannesburg once. We all take that with a pinch of salt, because well he never shared this fact when he was younger, and of (more) sound mind. Perhaps he did walk there, who knows. But you know what- people of old would walk long distances, and it didn't kill them. I'm thinking of this now, because I miss my car- I'm using public transport again where I am. I don't need my car as much as I think I do. Also just a nice to have...
5. We all kind of have this idea that we can live off our salaries and pensions... That if you're out of a job, that's essentially the end of being able to do anything. Well, in that season, people went to work every day (how? I never figured that one out) for a month, to earn just enough to buy one loaf of bread. Completely mysterious. But I know that people stayed at work because they'd always worked, and were waiting in hope for something like a pension. Or because they felt there was nothing else they could be doing with their time. But what they did while they waited, and sat around at work, was hustle. I learnt a lot about making money on the side in that season. I'm not naturally business-minded, the only one in my family like that, but I baked cakes that my sister sold at her school. I have learnt that extra money is always a useful thing, and that my salary is not guaranteed.
6. I also learnt the true place of faith in my life. Nothing else could have got me through that season. It's being completely helpless in the face of something far bigger than you, not knowing a single way to remove yourself from the situation. So it was literally one foot in front of the other, until one day I looked up and I was out of the valley. 

That last point is what makes me so mad when people make fun of what was going on in Zimbabwe in that season. It may seem funny, but those were real people living through a terrible time. I heard a story then about an old woman in the rural areas, looking after orphans. They had no food, and no way of getting any.. And one day they ate leaves, just to quiet the hunger, and they died.

No one has really calculated the human cost of what was going on then. There are anecdotes; the man who sold his house, and couldn't get his money out of the bank, and was so stressed out he had a heart attack. The secretary who couldn't get medication from her service provider, and whose boss wouldn't release a few dollars (in US dollar terms) from petty cash for her, who then had a stroke and died. I kind of wish people would congratulate those who came through that season...  And then I realise that it had nothing to do with smarts. We just came through, somehow, and are thankful.

So, that experience marked me in deep ways. What I want to leave here is that trouble is a strange thing. When you're going through it, if it's bad enough, you think it feels like death. Later on, you don't even want to think about it. But after some time, you start to see something unexpected. There are treasures even in darkness.... Things you come out with, that change your perspective on life. That's what 2007 - 2008 were for me; something that changed my life. Not something I would have chosen, but something that brought grace regardless.