This 114-year-old dude from Mt Darwin still walks around without a cane, no glasses needed, and apparently still takes cold baths in winter like it's nothing. Chazimbwa Kachikunje was born back in 1912 in Mozambique and now holds the title of Zimbabwe's oldest pensioner, pulling checks from the National Railways of Zimbabwe fund a wild 54 years after he clocked out for the last time in 1986.
No dementia, no prostate cancer, sharp as a tack according to people around him, and he just credits it all to divine grace rather than some magic diet. His wife mentioned the cold-bath thing; sometimes he wanders to the river solo to wash up, which honestly sounds like a fitness influencer's morning routine except this guy's over a century old.
Family-wise, he's got six surviving kids from his late first wife; his current wife is 64, and grandkids plus great-grandkids stack up to somewhere around forty. They're all crammed together in Village 10 under Chief Nembire.
Career-wise, the guy started as a farm laborer and herd boy coming over from Mozambique, then spent decades hauling maize bags, coal, and tobacco bales onto train wagons by hand before finally scoring a driver's license in 1964 that bumped him up to chauffeuring company officials around several provinces until retirement.
Pension's shrunk to basically nothing in value now, but he's still grateful it covers sugar, cooking oil, and the odd trip to the grinding mill.
No dementia, no prostate cancer, sharp as a tack according to people around him, and he just credits it all to divine grace rather than some magic diet. His wife mentioned the cold-bath thing; sometimes he wanders to the river solo to wash up, which honestly sounds like a fitness influencer's morning routine except this guy's over a century old.
Family-wise, he's got six surviving kids from his late first wife; his current wife is 64, and grandkids plus great-grandkids stack up to somewhere around forty. They're all crammed together in Village 10 under Chief Nembire.
Career-wise, the guy started as a farm laborer and herd boy coming over from Mozambique, then spent decades hauling maize bags, coal, and tobacco bales onto train wagons by hand before finally scoring a driver's license in 1964 that bumped him up to chauffeuring company officials around several provinces until retirement.
Pension's shrunk to basically nothing in value now, but he's still grateful it covers sugar, cooking oil, and the odd trip to the grinding mill.
