‘I got into debt for a free waterbottle and lanyard’- Nicolette Mashile

They were giving away free waterbottles and lanyards for signing up. I wanted the promo items. I could do with a waterbottle, and perhaps I would stop losing my keys if they were on a lanyard. So, I signed up for a credit card. It was easy: I filled in a form, the next day I got a call from the bank, and all was finalised on the phone.

My card was delivered the next week, and I maxed the limit in one shopping go. It was a measly R500 limit, but it quickly turned into the most painful R500 ya makgowa (of the white man’s/creditor’s) that I ate. LOL, bathong (people)!

I paid for the credit card when I could, and eventually stopped paying altogether. No one told me I had an obligation to pay and pay every month. You see, I had got away with this behaviour before. Well, I thought I’d gotten away with it until years later when someone from MBD Credit Solutions came looking for me. We love you MBD, but stop harassing us LOL.

A few years before, I was studying at Rhodes University and sick of having to go to the Jacaranda Lab (our communal computer centre), so I decided to get a laptop on credit. I came to the conclusion that I’d be approved for this because in my first year, a clothing store had given me a store card in spite of the fact that my only income was pocket money.

How difficult would it be to convince a furniture shop that I could afford to pay monthly instalments? The transaction was easy; my account was opened in a matter of minutes, and within an hour, I left the shop a happy customer with a brand-new Proline laptop.

They asked me if I wanted to insure the laptop, but when they told me how much it would cost, I refused. You know boloi (witchcraft) doesn’t rest, and within six months of having the laptop, it was gone. I’d stayed over in Makhanda one year for the National Arts Festival, and was staying at a friend’s digs. While I was watching series on the laptop, two little thieves ran up the stairs and into the room through the open door, snatched the laptop and were gone.

I went back to the shop to tell them about the incident in the hope that they would replace it. They reminded me that I’d declined the insurance. I tried to work my way around this one, protesting that I didn’t lose or damage the laptop; someone had stolen it from me, and surely that was out of my control?

The sales guy was growing impatient at my nagging and he said, “That’s what insurance is for, my sister,” and walked off.

I knew it was a losing fight, so I walked away. I decided to stop paying them, rha. The next month’s debit order ran through my account, and I immediately went to my bank to cancel it, but the lady said I couldn’t do so but could change my bank account if they were debiting me fraudulently. I couldn’t change my account; I knew this account number off by heart and it was loaded everywhere. This was the bank account my dad knew about, so how would I explain why I had a new one?

My clever plan was to withdraw all my money each month before the debit order went off. I was diligent at this exercise, and determined to punish the furniture shop for not replacing my laptop. But this process soon became a bit of a hassle, so I resorted to opening a new savings account that I would transfer my money into. A couple of bounced debit orders and unpaid fees later, the furniture shop simply stopped trying to debit me. That’s right! Why should I pay for a laptop I no longer had?

Many of us have been in this situation where we abandon a credit commitment simply because we feel it’s unfair on us. Look, I can also claim many faults in the system; I should never have qualified for any of the credit lines I got. But to shift the blame on to the credit providers is not taking accountability. The total due on my credit card, initially R500, started rising quickly because of compounding interest. Within a year of not paying it off, the total was sitting at around R700. Credit doesn’t only attack when you’re in a position to earn, it can also strike when you have little or no income.

A couple of years later, when I started working, I was ready to pay off this credit card in full. The balance was well over R1 000. I couldn’t believe it. I struggled to pay it off; with a few adjustments to my life, and perhaps a struggle for a few months, I could just settle it. Mentally, I was not ready.

This is funny; the debt itself was the cause of a lot of stress in my life, but the solution was something I wasn’t ready to commit to. I didn’t know how to go about paying off this credit card while still maintaining my month-to-month expenses. I was already feeling like I wasn’t being paid enough.

In hindsight, I realise that my desire to pay off the credit card was weaker than my reasons to resist. This remained the case until I had to apply for a personal loan of R4 000. I went to the same bank that had given me the credit card, and the consultant said they would approve my loan only if I could settle the credit card. I’d been given a reason to pay it off. Crazy, I tell you. I fell for it. I planned how I was going to do it. I would pay extra each month, and within six months, I paid it off. You would think I didn’t go back for the personal loan, right? I did. That’s a story for another day.

Many of us don’t understand credit. In all my early interactions with credit providers, I never asked what would happen if I stopped paying, how it would affect my future, and how much interest I was being charged. I wanted what I wanted at the time, despite what it meant. I know I’m not the only one.

Often, when I’m helping people with their debt, I ask them to list their debt in order of the interest they are being charged, with the loan with the highest rate at the top and the one with the lowest rate at the bottom. Many people don’t know what that is, or where to even find it on their statements or credit agreements. It’s disheartening that we take up credit but don’t fully comprehend what that means.

Access to many different credit lines, as well as to credit with high limits, also has many of our well-paid brothers and sisters thinking they live well. But how do you come to understand the reality of the situation you are in? Many realise too late that they are in trouble, indebted to a point where they are considering debt counselling, debt consolidation or debt review. It starts with understanding how credit works.

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About the book and author:

In What’s Your Move? Nicolette Mashile, founder of Financial Bunnies and a champion of personal-finance education across the African content, shares stories from her own life and journey with money in order to redefine personal-finance management.

An intimate and deeply personal book, in What’s Your Move? Nicolette talks openly about her experiences with money and the way she was brought up. She shares her beliefs about how our everyday behaviour influences how we manage our finances, and how, in spite of knowing better, we sometimes make the wrong financial decisions.

What’s Your Move? is a challenge: a challenge to you to make a move that will be financially rewarding. A promise to yourself that you are more than capable of managing your money.