July is National Savings Month, a time when we are encouraged to reflect on our spending, tuck away extra rands, and develop better financial habits. But for many South Africans, the relationship with money is not just a matter of budgeting apps and side hustles. It’s personal. Emotional. Generational. And for some of us, it’s deeply painful.
I’m a young adult, and lately, I’ve been taking stock of my life, including how I manage money. Some mornings I wake up proud of how far I’ve come. Other days, I’m haunted by financial decisions I regret, the times I borrowed to maintain appearances, gave when I didn’t have, or signed up for accounts I didn’t fully understand. And when I trace the roots of my money story, I realise, though my dad bought me a cash box that I didn’t really use, or took out a R1 from it just to buy a packet of chips koo my friend. I didn’t learn about money, I learned by watching my parents survive.
I’d stand with my mother in long queues, holding our place at a furniture store while she paid off what felt like never-ending instalments. She’d leave with little more than a stamped receipt and the worry of next month’s bill. My father, on the other hand, often believed in luxury often citing “its quality ntombam” even when it meant going without. Their intentions were always good. But as a child, I internalised that money was stressful, unpredictable, and not something you talked about openly, unless you were desperate.
I’m not alone. Research shows that many South Africans carry emotional baggage around money. The Financial Sector Conduct Authority’s (FSCA) financial literacy baseline study revealed that only 38% of South Africans demonstrate basic financial knowledge, and just 49% of adults regularly track their expenses. And then there’s the cultural pressure. In many of our households we are often the first generation with degrees, jobs in formal sectors, and access to credit. With that comes the expectation, sometimes unspoken, sometimes loud, to support extended family, help build back what was denied to generations before us, and show signs of “making it.” But at what cost?
You spend your last few hundred Rand on takeaways or clothes, not because you needed them, but because you wanted to feel good, or more honestly, to look like you are doing okay. I’ve come to learn that this, too, is part of the psychology of money, when we haven’t healed from scarcity, we often spend to escape it, not solve it.
We also inherit habits. If your parents never saved because they couldn’t, you may struggle to understand how. If you never saw them budget, you might think it’s something only “privileged” people do. There’s no shame in starting a small, quiet act of rebellion against everything you fear about money. Start having honest conversations with friends, not just about income, but about debt, anxiety, and how we’re all trying to stay afloat.
We don’t talk about it enough, but the data shows the struggle is widespread. I am learning to see money not as a source of shame, but as a tool. For peace of mind. For freedom. For choice.
Money isn’t everything. But it shapes everything, how we live, how we feel, and what we pass on. Let’s choose to pass on better.
