Struggling to be middle class

It feels crap to be middle class right now. It must feel even worse when you are dependent on a worker’s pittance pay.

Not even the Smart Shopper points I earn filling up with fuel softened the landing of the price tag at the pump. Two years ago, a full tank cost just over half of the R1 700 that I had to reluctantly swipe for this week.

For a real hover on the precipice of depression, try buying a loaf of sliced bread which – at almost R18 now – is nearly double the price South Africans paid before lockdown.

Ironically, the Checkers where I do my shopping has a giant “Save” shelf-talker proudly bearing the price point. My income did not go up by 80% and I am pretty darn sure nobody’s did. The clever people cite Covid-induced supply chain challenges as a primary driver for inflation. Add to that Putin’s war in Ukraine and consequently the massive leap in crude prices.

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The only people laughing all the way to the bank are the profiteers on the back of scarcity. If markets are driven by sentiment, why isn’t it hitting the lows of depression like most of the people it serves?

Mental wellness has become one of humankind’s greatest health challenges recently – and it is easy to understand why. On the back of all of this, at home, our government profits.

We pay on what we earn, what we consume, where we live and soon, I expect, we will start penancing for the air we breathe.

South Africans tithe to a broken state where the amount of money stolen from us could have gone a long way towards subsidising the financial despair we all face at this time.

Temporary relief with the pittance of a tax reduction, a week before another fuel price hike, did nothing for anyone’s pocket. A flaccid intervention. The growing number of beggars on street corners cannot inspire alms with cardboard-sign humour anymore.

Not that charity is no longer in the purview of our psyche, but right now charity begins at home. That is what it is like being middle class in a country reeling from the impact of sustained corruption: naked and helpless in the onslaught of geopolitical incidents.

It is wonderful to be middle class in South Africa, though, despite it being middle-of-themonth Salticrax every day of the month now. Because we are a resilient bunch. If there was a strongman contest among nations, we would take gold.

Despite the crime, the corruption, the nonsensical politicians who believe more in their own legend than children believe in Santa, the sky-high cost of living and our relegated place in the world, I would still rather be here than anywhere else.

We have an opportunity in this country, albeit through goalposts that seem incredibly narrow for scoring wins and where own-goals are par for the course, but we do have a chance.

There is still time to rebuild, grow and create a country we can all be proud of. A nation that gets to celebrate more than just a Rugby World Cup win every now and then.

Instead, if we all stand together, we could rebuild the rainbow nation and find the pot of gold too before it gets looted.

But it is going to take an iron will from everyone and a hell of a lot of demanding work. We can do it. And play later, when inflation subsides and blue light brigades disappear.

It is possible for South Africa to become the land of milk and honey for everyone. And it is what is left of the middle class that will drive this change.