A Home for Nozi

I went into healthcare and mental health because I wanted to help people live fuller lives. I just never imagined that one day, some of that work would involve bricks, concrete and floor plans.

My husband and I build houses. Cluster homes, to be specific.

We are slightly obsessed with utilising minimum space in a maximum and beautiful way. People in this country urgently need accommodation, and as our cities grow, we have had to rethink what home can look like. Sometimes that means smaller spaces, shared developments and making much better use of the land we already have.

The more we build, though, the more I realise that construction is not really just a construction business. It is a people business.

It is about the relationships you have with service providers, approvers, partners and clients. It is about bringing all those individual pieces together to make something possible. We do not have the kind of capital the big construction companies enjoy, so for us, relationships, creativity and resourcefulness matter.

Our first build was the home we live in.

It was sketched on a napkin in a restaurant.

Yes, that kind of dream.

And then somehow we watched God's miraculous hand bring the resources together. Through people. Through banks. Through selling cars we had built. Through one provision after another.

Eventually, an L-shaped culmination of our imagination stood where there had once just been an idea on a napkin.

But alongside our home, we built two small, self-contained townhouses, each with its own wall and gate. The idea was simple. We could have tenants or use them as Airbnbs and create another stream of income.

As it turns out, the greatest use of one of those townhouses had nothing to do with Airbnb.

Almost a year ago, we agreed to offer one of them to Washy's sister, Nozi.

Nozi was born blind.

Living with a disability can be challenging anywhere, but particularly in a country and culture where disability can still mean being hidden, unexplained, overprotected and made vulnerable. The idea of a blind person living independently is still unusual enough to make people nervous.

But that is exactly what this home means to Nozi.

Independence.

It is a compact two-bedroom flat with a small garden, kitchen and lounge, adapted so that she can navigate it comfortably. And what has been incredible to watch is just how completely she has made the space her own.

She cooks.

She hosts.

She works.

One bedroom doubles as her study, gym and spare bedroom. The other is simply her bedroom, her own private place to sleep and rest.

These things may sound ordinary.

That is precisely the point.

This townhouse is not just a home. It is a small change in the narrative that says people with disabilities have no hope of a full, independent life.

And perhaps it has changed another narrative too.

The one about a tete and a muroora.

Nozi and I have been given the opportunity to live close to each other, not through obligation or hierarchy, but through mutual respect and friendship. The three of us have developed a unique kind of togetherness that somehow just feels right.

Someone once said that love is a person who makes you more of who you are.

I love that.

Because perhaps that is what this home has given Nozi. Not a place for us to look after her, but a place for her to be more fully herself.

She is caring. Nurturing. Hospitable. Independent. Capable.

Having her own home has given her room to access and express all those parts of herself.

And maybe that is what a good home is supposed to do for all of us.

We are still building.

Still learning.

Still trying to create pieces of independence and spaces where people can make a life.

I think what makes us different is authenticity and building with heart. We know what it is to build without endless capital. We know what it is to imagine something before you have all the resources to make it happen. We know that behind every floor plan is an actual person who will wake up there, cook there, fight there, laugh there, raise children there, host people there and call it home.

And if we can create a space where a blind woman can live independently and flourish, we can think creatively about a space that works for you too.

Through Mokana Construction, we have now completed all sorts of projects... butcheries, pool houses, durawalls, driveways, flats, townhouses, kitchens and bathrooms. Renovations or building from scratch. Your plan or ours.

But increasingly, I don't think of us as simply building structures.

We are providing little pieces of home for the modern Zimbabwean.

And writing this, I have just realised something.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we have the honour of giving is being allowed into that vulnerable space between someone's dream of a home and the day they finally stand inside it.

To be part of someone's journey towards home.

Especially one as special as Nozi's.

And perhaps we can be part of yours too.

If you are looking for a place to call home, Mokana Construction currently has flats coming up in Strathaven. To find out more about the available units, contact us on 0772816526.

Affordable gem at 29 on Suffolk