Sit With Me: What Zimbabwe’s Grandmothers Can Teach Us About Healing, Listening, and Living the Good Life

And when you looked to this part of the world, grandmothers are considered to be the custodians of local culture and wisdom. And they are rooted in their communities. And they have this amazing ability to listen in a very empathic way. They have this amazing ability to be attentive. And I think they are such an amazing resource. Dr. Dixon Chibanda

Have you ever sat in a room full of people and still felt utterly alone?

Maybe you've carried a quiet ache—grief, anxiety, confusion, regret—and didn’t know how to talk about it. Or maybe you’re the one watching someone else suffer, wanting to help but not knowing what to say or do.

Now imagine this:

You're walking through a noisy market or down a dusty lane, heart heavy, eyes cast down. And there, under the shade of a tree, sits a grandmother with kind eyes and open arms. She pats the space beside her and simply says:

"Tell me your story."

That, it turns out, can be the beginning of something life-changing. It’s the true story of the Friendship Bench. It’s a simple revolutionary, common sense mental health movement born in Zimbabwe.

 The Friendship Bench book written by Dr. Dixon Chibanda just came out, but I had heard about this program about 7 years ago or so. I had seen some of Chibanda’s videos, his TED talk.  A few days ago I started reading the book.

And it coincided with an eerie moment. A young woman recently came to our little church. She sat down in a pew after the service.  Crying. 

One of the women in the church noticed the woman and said, “Isn’t anyone going to speak to her?” 

The young woman was literally sitting on a bench.   Wanting something.  Looking for something.  After an inquiry, she said that she had decided to come to the church instead of going to a bar.  Perhaps either a bar or church could provide what she needed though she didn't seem to know exactly what that was. Maybe spirit. Maybe strength. Maybe love. Maybe relief from pain. Maybe hope. Maybe someone.

That’s when my mind opened to the immediate relevance of the Friendship Bench project. The wisdom of the Grandmothers. The lessons learned. Lessons we could use in America...in Cashmere.

The Friendship Bench started with a tragedy. Psychiatrist Dixon Chibanda, one of only twelve psychiatrists in the entire country (of over 16 million people!), lost a patient—a young woman—because she couldn’t afford a bus fare to come to her follow-up appointment.

“She took her life,” Dixon recalls, “and I realized we were waiting for people to come to clinics—but the pain was out there, in the community.” Thought he would only admit it much later, Dixon also felt that what he was doing was not helping. He felt inadequate. An imposter.

So he did something bold: he turned to the wisest, warmest people he knew—the grandmothers. Women already known in their communities as listeners and nurturers. He trained them to use evidence-based talk therapy. And they taught him how to make it work. Then he placed benches in public places—under trees, near markets, in front of clinics.

People came… once they changed the name of the bench from Mental Health Bench to Friendship Bench at the advice of the Grandmothers.

Of course I wanted to know what the Grandmothers did exactly.  According to the book, conversation on a Friendship Bench unfolds in three gentle, powerful stages:

1. Opening the Mind (Kuvhura pfungwa): The grandmother listens without judgment. This is where the story pours out—the sadness, the confusion, the shame. And this is where healing begins – with vulnerability, telling the story to a warm-hearted listener.

   
   

   

   
   

“I thought I was going mad,” said one visitor."

"You’re not mad,” the grandmother said. “You’re human. Sit, and let’s talk.”

2. Uplifting the Spirit (Kusimudzira): Through stories and gentle encouragement, the grandmother helps the person remember their strength, their dignity. This is where the hope starts.

   
   

“You’ve walked through fire,” one said. “And you’re still standing.”

3. Strengthening (Kusimbisa): They end by choosing a small, doable next step together. Not a cure. A beginning. Taking a small step forward tremendously boosts hope which turns out to be a huge factor in empowerment.

   
   
   
   

   

   
   

“Call my sister.”

“Water my garden.”

“Say a prayer.”

“Come back and sit again.”

One man said, “That bench was my beginning again.”

And here comes the kicker. It gives me chills just to think about. The results.

Eventually Chibanda was able to set up good research to see how the Grandmother Friendship bench was working out. The studies were published in prestigious journals like JAMA (Journal of the American Medicine Association) Psychiatry. 

It probably took a lot of guts on the part of those psychiatrists who published the research because the studies showed that people who talked with grandmothers on these benches experienced greater reductions in depression and suicidal thoughts than those who received traditional clinical care!

Read that again. It’s hard to believe. It was hard even for Dixon to believe even though he himself had opened up his heart, his pain, to the grandmothers and found healing.

The grandmothers had no degrees, no clinics, no serotonin re-uptake inhibitors —only their presence, their patience, and their humanity. Their heart. Their ears.

"Why does it work," people want to know.  Chibanda and the grandmothers think it’s because healing often begins not with fixing - not with medicine, not with advice, but with being heard.

Dr. Chibanda puts it simply:

“We underestimate the power of listening. It can save a life.”

According to Chibanda, you don’t have to be in Africa, have a bench, or even be a “Grandmother”, (Did you notice what Dixon is saying here to grandfathers and others?) to use the wisdom learned from the Grandmothers of Zimbabwe.

You can become someone’s “bench” by doing what the Friendship Bench grandmothers do:

• Make a sacred space. A kitchen table. A coffee shop corner. A walk in the park.

• Begin with warmth, not advice. (This is big…most of us want to give advice at the get-go.  Most of it isn’t wanted nor helpful, certainly not at this early stage.  And the reason we often run first to advice is because we don’t believe in the power of simply listening OR we want to relieve our own discomfort.)

• Listen with your whole body—your eyes, your hands, your silence.

• Don’t rush to solve. Say: “That sounds so hard.” Or: “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

• Help them find one small, hopeful step forward.

• Follow up. Say: “I’m thinking of you.” Even a text, an email, or a call matters.

  
  

This is active love. This is how we build communities where people feel seen. Where they heal. Where we heal.

As one grandmother said:

“Sometimes, all people need is to know they’re not walking through the storm alone.” (A sentiment confirmed in many studies.)

And here’s what happens to you when you listen like the Grandmothers:

1. You feel deeply connected.

When you truly listen, you no longer feel separate. Loneliness fades—for both of you.

“When I listen like that,” said one volunteer, “I feel like I’m part of something bigger than me.”

2. You awaken your purpose.

People who feel needed, who have a reason to get up in the morning, live longer and better. Helping others is one of the most meaningful things you can do.

“I thought I was too old to help,” said one grandmother. “But now people say I saved their life.”

3. You begin to heal, too.

The magic is mutual. In offering compassion, we often receive it.

“Every time I sit with someone,” said a trained listener, “I feel more alive, more grounded, more whole.”

4. You become a safe place.

You don’t need credentials. Just open arms. A soft voice. A willingness to stay.

5. You help create the kind of world you want to live in. A world where people look each other in the eye. Where silence is allowed. Where presence is enough.

And here’s another reason I’m interested in the Grandmother Friendship Bench project.  We have an ageing crisis in America. It’s a crisis of loneliness, lack of worth and purpose, and invisibility.

Research shows:

• Loneliness in older adults increases the risk of death as much as smoking 15 cigarettes a day (National Academies of Sciences).

• Purpose is protective. Older adults with a strong sense of purpose have a 15% lower mortality risk, even after adjusting for health and income (Psychological Science, 2014).

• Small contributions matter. People with purpose—even those with illness or limitations—show slower cognitive decline and better emotional resilience (Rush Alzheimer's Disease Center).

  
  

“The grandmother isn’t just the healer,” says Dr. Chibanda.“She’s the proof that we all have something valuable to offer—at any age.”

If you are like me and getting older…YOU ARE STILL NEEDED!

Your presence is medicine. Really, just your presence. 

I remember going to an out-of-town conference with my mentor teacher in my younger life.  She asked if her 90-year-old mother could come along for the ride and share the room.  I can’t say I was overly excited about that.  But her presence turned out to be just what I needed. She calmed my body and soul beyond belief.  Her slow breathing and easy smile helped me relax my racing-hamster-wheel brain. I can bring back that tranquil feeling even now.

When I moved to Cashmere over forty years ago, I found out that if you had a problem, you went to Grandma Doane or sometimes her son, Ron, who was the pharmacist. They were the healing glue of the community. Sometimes Ron did not have to do anything but stand behind the counter, smile his impish grin of acceptance, and I could feel a surge of healing balm. The drugstore was his "bench", but I began getting well before I even got my prescription when he was there.

Wrapping this up. If you’re younger, look to those who’ve lived before you - the Elders. Let them be your bench. Sit down. Open up.

Finally...the good life does not need to end as we age. In many ways, it begins there—with the courage to show up, the grace to listen, and the humility to be changed by someone else’s story.

So let’s build more benches. Literally and metaphorically.

Let’s listen like the grandmothers - no matter our age or gender or ethnicity.

Let’s love like we were made for it—because I think we were.

How might we journey together to the Good Life by embracing the wisdom of The Grandmothers and the Friendship Bench in our lives?

A parenthetical. When my first grandchild was born. I wasn't sure I wanted to embrace being a grandmother. It sounded wrinkly. Then, one day when she was about four or five, my granddaughter said, "It must be fun to be a GRAND mother." And she accompanied the pronouncement with an upward flourish. I never thought of it that way. I've come a long way since then I think. I don't mind the wrinkles. And I enjoy the other names she anointed me with like "The ancient queen". And here I must also remember a friend of mine, Suzanne, who has no biological grandchildren but who has provided grandmotherly love, warmth, healing, and wisdom to many people of all ages for decades. Grandmother is just a term for those who embody life-giving wisdom and nurturance...including grandfathers and people of all ages.