04h30 - wakes up and warms water
05h15 - walks to the taxi rank
05h40 - on a taxi queue (buys magwinya)
06h10 - taxi leaves
07h00 - second taxi rank waiting for another taxi
07h30 - walks short distance to work
07h50 - gets to work
Gets shouted at by a female supervisor.
17h00 - knocks off and walks to the main road to catch a taxi
17h30 - catches a taxi to the taxi rank in town
18h00 - on a queue to catch a taxi to kasi
18h30 - taxi leaves
19h15 - gets home, bathes, eats and help kids with school work
21h30 - boring se×
This is someone's reality 5 days a week ☹️ ☹️.
My brother-in-law just called asking for help setting up his new router.
The same router I told my neighbor I couldn't help with last week because "it's not my area."
But family is different. You can't blow off family the same way.
So I'm going over there tomorrow.
But here's what I'm doing: I'm bringing my laptop and making it look really complicated.
I'm going to run some terminal commands that look technical but don't do anything. I'm going to check logs that don't matter. I'm going to nod seriously while explaining "network topology" and "QoS prioritization."
The router setup will take 10 minutes. I'm going to stretch it to 45.
Why? Because if it looks easy, they'll ask me to help with everything.
If it looks hard, they'll think twice before calling me next time.
Also, my sister will probably make lunch. So 45 minutes of "complicated technical work" gets me a free meal and enough family credit that I can skip the next two birthday parties.
Everything's a transaction. Even family.
My wife stopped fighting with me in 2018.
I thought we'd finally figured it out.
No more arguments about the dishes. No more sighing when I forgot something. No more asking me to help with things I should've noticed myself.
Peace.
That's what I called it.
For two years I lived in that silence thinking we'd reached some kind of marital maturity.
Then one night—11 PM, night before Thanksgiving—I found her crying in the kitchen.
Making pie crust from scratch because my mother had made a comment the year before about store-bought being "fine, I guess."
I asked what was wrong.
She looked at me like I was a stranger.
"Nothing."
That's when I realized:
She hadn't stopped fighting because things were better.
She stopped fighting because she stopped believing I would ever change.
The silence wasn't peace.
It was resignation.
She'd built her entire life around my absence…while I was still in the house. Eating the food she cooked. Sleeping in the bed she made. Parenting the kids she was raising.
And I called it partnership because I brought home a paycheck.
Most men don't have a marriage problem.
They have an absence problem.
Their wives stopped asking because asking hurt too much.
So they carry it alone. The meals. The schedules. The mental load. The holidays.
And we sit on the couch checking our phones thinking "at least we're not fighting anymore."
Brother, fighting would be better.
Anger means she still believes you could change.
Silence means she made peace with the fact that you won't.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
Your wife is going to wake up before you. Start cooking while you sleep. Manage the chaos while you watch the parade. Clean up while you digest.
Unless you don't let her.
I wrote the protocol for coming home to a marriage you've been absent from.
The 5 stages of wifely resignation.
Why "I'll do better" doesn't work anymore.
The 30-day silent rebuilding system.
The conversation she needs to hear.
It's called "When She Stopped Asking."
Link below if you want it.
But whether you buy it or not—wake up first tomorrow.
Allow me to explain about Godongwana’s decision today ⚠️
The new 3% inflation target, set to begin in 2027, means that the prices of everyday items like groceries, petrol, and electricity will rise more slowly than they do now.
Under the current 3–6% range, prices typically increase by about 4.5% each year, so umzekelo a R100 grocery basket today would cost R104.50 next year. With the 3% target, that same basket would only go up to around R103.
This slower pace of price increases will help you keep more of your salary in your pocket, making your money stretch further for food, fuel, and household essentials.
When it comes to your job and salary, the lower inflation target is likely to create a more stable environment for businesses. High inflation makes it hard for companies to plan, often leading to layoffs or frozen wages.
A steady 3% target signals reliability, encouraging companies to invest in new factories, equipment, and hiring. Over time, this should mean better job security and a stronger chance of getting a raise that actually improves your standard of living.
If you have a home loan, car finance, or any debt, this change could be a big win. Right now, the repo rate is around 8.25%, making a R1 million bond cost about R11,500 a month. As inflation drops toward 3%, the South African Reserve Bank will likely lower interest rates to around 5–6% by 2028 or 2030.
That same R1 million bond could then cost you R9,000 to R10,000 a month, freeing up R2,000 or more for your family every month. Even petrol and electricity prices should become more predictable, with smaller annual hikes tied to the lower inflation rate.
Your savings will still grow, though not dramatically. Banks might offer 4–5% interest when inflation is 3%, giving you a small real gain. But cash under the mattress will lose value slowly, so it’s better to put money into unit trusts or property that can beat inflation.
The transition won’t be completely smooth, 2026 might see a temporary rate hike if inflation lingers above 4.5%, which could raise your bond payment by R500 to R1,000 for a few months. Still, this is a short-term bump on the way to long-term relief.
For the average South African family, the 3% target is good news. It means cheaper loans, slower price increases, and more stable jobs, as long as you prepare for a slightly tougher 2026. Start by avoiding new debt, building a small emergency fund, and asking your employer for inflation linked salary adjustments.
In three years, you could be saving hundreds on your bond and tens of rand each week at the till real money that stays in your hands.