It’s more than just survival, sisi. It’s about building a legacy that lasts.
On any street in our kasis, you feel it before you see it: the spirit of hustle. It’s the gogo waking up before the sun, standing over her three-legged pot, selling hot amagwinya to fund a grandchild’s school shoes. It’s the young father pushing a trolley of ice lollies in that heavy summer heat, knowing every R5 coin means nappies and rent. It’s the teenager braiding hair on the stoep after school, her quick fingers weaving the dreams of her own future.
This is our true heritage. Not monuments or money passed down, but the resilience to make a way where it feels like there is none.
Today, that same hustle just has better tools. It’s WhatsApp groups buzzing with orders for Tupperware or Table Charm. It’s Facebook Lives where women unbox products with a pride that says, “I am building something beautiful.” It’s our stokvels, which started as a way to survive month-end, now being flipped into businesses, bursaries, and even building materials. Let me tell you, this direct selling thing isn’t some new idea from overseas. It’s the same community-based economy our grandparents built, now powered by data and a bigger vision.
From Survival to Legacy
For too long, we’ve measured the hustle by what it pays for today: airtime, taxi fare, a loaf of bread. But a heritage mindset challenges us to look further. What are we building that our children will inherit?
It starts with ownership. That feeling when your hustle upgrades a shack to a back room, and that room eventually expands into a proper house with a foundation. One sale, one brick, one step at a time. It’s about education. That hustle money that quietly pays for school fees and new uniforms, so the next generation starts where we left off—not two steps behind. And, of course, it’s about generosity. The ability to bless your parents with groceries, to give a decent offering at church, or to help out the neighbour whose kids haven’t eaten. That’s when you know you’re building something real.
If you needed proof, you just had to be at the last big Sales Rally. When Zama Shengi Buthelezi’s name was called and she walked on stage to get the keys to that brand-new car, it wasn’t just luck. Eish, it was months of walking door-to-door in the sun, of data running out mid-month, of following up with customers and refusing to quit when things were quiet. Her win is a signpost for all of us. That car isn’t just a car; it’s freedom from waiting for a taxi in the rain. It’s proof that if she can do it, so can we.
Hustle with a Story, Hustle with a Purpose
Products alone don’t sell—stories do. A skaftin was never just a lunchbox; it was love packed for a long shift at the factory. A bowl of pap isn’t just maize; it’s a message that at our table, there’s always room for one more.
When you connect your hustle to its deeper meaning, you’re not just making money; you’re making a memory. So this Heritage Month, ask yourself: what story are you really telling? When people buy from you, are they just buying soap, or are they buying back their dignity? Are they buying a plastic bowl, or are they buying the feeling of ubuntu when they serve a meal to their family on a beautiful platter?
The Way Forward
Our ancestors left us the gift of resilience. Our job is to leave our children more than just resilience—we must leave them a foundation. Houses, education, businesses, faith, and the courage to dream bigger than we ever did.
Your hustle is not small. It is heritage in motion. Stop treating it like pocket change and start treating it like the blueprint for your family’s future.
This spring, lift your hustle from just surviving to truly building a legacy. Write down the one big dream you want your children to inherit—then sell, save, and serve until it’s standing strong. That’s how we turn hustle into heritage, one sale at a time.