Guruve – Shayabvudzi: Healing in Sunsets
I have been to Guruve countless times. It is where my roots are buried, where my people come from, where familiarity once made me careless with attention. This time, I did not arrive as a traveler chasing adventure. I arrived carrying grief. I was there for a funeral and somehow, that made me see Guruve for the first time.
About 150 kilometres north of Harare, Guruve stretches quietly rural, agricultural and unassuming. It is a place shaped by farming, by long roads, by land that feeds families and stories alike. There is mining activity here, whispers of investment and development, plans to grow the centre into an official town. Still, Guruve moves at its own pace, untouched by urgency.
My lineage traces back to Shayabvudzi, a ward within the Guruve District. At first glance, there is little that demands admiration. But attention changes everything. The dusty roads stretch unusually straight, refusing to rush. Huts stand quietly, holding Zimbabwe’s rich cultural history in their walls. Vast fields open up, painted in maize, tobacco, groundnuts, cotton, and soya beans. Livestock, cattle of different breeds, goats, and chickens move freely across the land. Mango trees scatter color across the landscape, while the smell of cow dung hangs in the air, grounding you in a way the city never could. Roosters announce the morning long before the sun fully rises. All of it washes away the noise, smoke, and restlessness of urban life.
I had always noticed these things, but I had never truly appreciated them. This time was different. A broken heart is vulnerable. It searches for meaning, for answers, for an end to pain. In that searching, comfort appears in unexpected places: in the way the road bends, in how trees sway as you pass them, in cows that take their time crossing the road because they are in no hurry at all, and in chickens that scatter quickly, alert and alive.
On this journey, one meant to lay loved ones back into the soil they came from, I found comfort in the sunsets. Guruve is not mountainous like the Eastern Highlands. It is flat and open, and that openness offers skies that feel cinematic. Nothing blocks the view. You do not need to climb a mountain to witness it all. You simply stand by the dusty road, watching it stretch endlessly ahead, wondering where it leads and then the sun begins to paint the sky.
In that moment, something heals. Even with a broken heart, you are reminded that beauty persists. As the sun sets, it makes room for the moon to rise, for stars to scatter across the sky, for light to return in another form. The world continues to offer gentleness, even in grief.
If you are looking for dramatic landmarks and bustling attractions, Shayabvudzi may not call to you at first. But if you are searching for quiet sunsets, unhurried roads, and a place where nature holds you without asking questions, then take the road to Guruve – Shayabvudzi.
Sometimes, travel is not about escape. Sometimes, it is about being held.
