By Margaret Kamba 

Almost every town houses a library where people can go in and read at a fee of course. This is how the library management gets to pay its workers and whatever other things that must be done to make it functional.

 It is a place where the distant or once in a while loud sounds or noises rarely catch anyone's attention as men and women drown themselves in reading.

 Given a comparison, I would say it is almost like a mortuary where the mortician embalms the corpse in total silence as though he or she is talking to the dead.

It was during my recent trip that I saw some of the most beautiful expressions of art. 

First was at the Gweru Memorial Library, where one of Sagomba's art pieces caught my attention. Of the two housed in that library, one stuck out because of its colors and the story it tells. 

The young lady carrying a calabash smiling fully, and the background with a hut and tree adding life to the surroundings. 

 I am not a painter, and to be honest, given the tools of the trade, I wouldn't even know what to do with them. However, for some reason, I seem to appreciate good work even in its complex form. 

I am not quite sure what drew me to the library because I had been sitting for half an hour on a dreaded park bench just opposite the library. 

Here, I had managed to do some work and watched as other people either sat in solitude while some couples had their pictures taken by random photographers making ends meet.

Just next to the park, is the Municipal offices where I had gone into minutes before, to inquire on the availability of water since it had been a long two weeks with the residents having no access to it.

The Public Relations Manager Vimbai Chingwaramusee, a friend, had been very helpful on the matter. Having previously worked in the media industry herself, she knew exactly how to give me a good story.

Just close to this whole place are a few shops, a lodge, and a fuel station. Business goes on as usual, and this is the reality surrounding this place.

Sitting in the park was what I did while waiting for my colleagues to arrive from Harare before we could proceed to Lupane for some work. 

 As soon as I entered the library, the art painting struck a code in me. I had to meet this man who could tell a story so simply and yet in a captivating way. Unfortunately, I have not yet gotten the time to sit down and understand his mind and what goes through it.

However, on my trip, I bumped into several other paintings and located in places where I felt no justice was done. While the idea of beautifying a place crossed the mind of the man or woman who put the paintings into that restaurant was there, perhaps the location was poor.

 No one seemed to notice the beauty of the art pieces hung in that particular restaurant. Given a chance to take a random survey on how many people had even noticed the two paintings, I would put my count at two out of ten. 

Appreciating someone's expression and communication is how we can begin to help these men and women thrive in their industry. 

Daluka based artist Gcinumuzi Khumalo, whose wooden bowl I fell in love with the moment I saw, allowed me to pick his brain on his form of art.

"I do composition art because I did a two-year course at Mzilikazi Art and Craft Centre. I communicate through my work, and this is how I pick the themes. I am one person who loves upholding culture, although I mix this with history and what goes on today. I believe that this art allows people to know and understand their culture."

It is amazing how in other countries such as the People’s Republic of China PRC, art is encouraged and reflects even through the architecture. The paper cutting cutting which some communities in that country have helped provide some of the greatest imaginations. The Bird's Nest Stadium in Beijing for instance, provides a beautiful tourist site while the roof tops of airports literally everywhere provide a great view.

The basket weaving by the local women, the wood carving by the men and many other forms of art must be supported because they are a part of us and speak volumes about where we come from and who we are.