The Price of Not Talking About Money at Home  

Money.

Remember that family in your township or village, the one that owned the supermarket everyone depended on? The shelves were always full, the parents worked hard, and the whole community respected them. You remember them? Their children were treated like royalty. 

Then the unthinkable happened. 
The father passed away. The mother’s health declined. Suddenly, the children had to take over the business. 

Within months, the shelves started to empty. The lights dimmed. The once-busy shop that had been the pride of the community became just another closed door. Not because the children did not care, but because they simply did not know how to run it. They had never been taught how to manage money, how to save, or how to grow what their parents had built. 

Now think of another family. 
A mother and father who worked their way up the corporate ladder. They moved from a small township house to a big home in the suburbs. Their children went to the best schools, wore neat blazers, and spoke perfect English. To everyone around them, they had made it. 

Then tragedy struck. Both parents died in a fatal car accident. No will left, no estate planned, and no insurance. Everything they had built began to crumble. Legal battles followed. Assets were frozen. Eventually, the children had to move in with an aunt in Soweto, start at a public school, and learn to adjust to a completely new life. 

All of it could have been avoided. 

And then there is Ayanda. 
A newly graduated young woman who just landed her first job. She feels unstoppable. For years, she has dreamed of owning her own car – no more taxis, no more getting caught in the rain, no more waiting on corners after dark. She deserves it, she tells herself. After all, she has worked hard. 

Friends advise her to start small, maybe get an affordable second-hand car first. But Ayanda has had enough of small. She has lived in a shack, borrowed clothes, eaten bread and tea for supper. She wants to taste the life she has always imagined. 

Soon, she drives off in her dream car. Then comes the apartment lease, the Foschini store card, the Woolies lunches that were never budgeted for. At first, it feels good, liberating even. But within months, the bills start to pile up. The car company threatens repossession. Rent falls behind. The calls from credit collectors never stop. 

Ayanda starts to feel anxious, ashamed, and trapped. Depression sets in. She cannot tell anyone what is happening because, well, abantu bazothini—what will people say? 

These stories are all too familiar. They remind us that a lack of financial education does not only affect the poor; it affects all of us, across generations. 

If the supermarket parents had taught their children about saving, investing, and running a business, their legacy could have continued to grow. 
If the corporate couple had put proper estate planning in place, their children’s future would have remained secure. 
If Ayanda had been taught about budgeting, credit, and delayed gratification, her success story would not have turned into a cautionary tale. 

Each story teaches the same truth: life will happen. Death, illness, job loss, and temptation will always come. The question is whether we and our children will be ready when they do. 

So, start the conversations now. 
Talk about money at home. Teach your children how to save, how to plan, how to give, and how to make money work for them. Let them see you making decisions, and let them learn from your experiences – both good and bad. 

Because one day, they will be the ones holding the keys to what you leave behind. 

And when that day comes, may they be ready.