I was at the harbour the other day and stopped at the tuck shop for cool drinks and biscuits. Only when it came time to pay did I realise I didn’t have my wallet on me. The owner, Ibrahim, waved away my embarrassment. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You can pay me some other time. It’s no problem.”
Later in our conversation he added, almost in passing, “You never know what happens in life. Life is precarious.”
Those were his exact words. Life is precarious.
He told me he was from Sudan. A man like that has known uncertainty in ways most of us can only imagine — political instability, economic hardship, personal risk. And here in South Africa, immigrants are not always welcomed. In some townships they have lost their businesses, sometimes even their lives. Yet here he was, extending credit to me on the strength of trust.
It made me wonder: is tolerance for uncertainty something you are born with, or is it forged in fire?
For a few months, South Africa felt relatively calm. There was talk of budget stability, of steadying the ship. Then, almost overnight, the global mood shifted again with the war involving Iran. Suddenly there were fears of oil price spikes, shipping disruptions through the Middle East, a weakening rand, inflationary pressures. Petrol prices might rise. Imported goods could cost more. Businesses might have to revise budgets yet again.
Uncertainty returned with force.
When uncertainty rises, people batten down the hatches. They delay spending. They postpone plans. They conserve cash. For some, a bad patch is temporary. For others, one severe downturn pushes them to the bottom — and climbing back up can take years, if it happens at all.
Businesses are no different. A shop that looks busy today can close its doors tomorrow. Not every enterprise has deep reserves. The small family-run stores, the immigrant-owned tuck shops, the modest service providers — they operate on thin margins. A few bad months can undo years of effort.
The harshest uncertainty of all is not about exchange rates or shipping lanes. It is about whether you will have food on the table tonight. Whether the rent will be paid. Whether there will be a place to sleep next week. That kind of uncertainty is not theoretical. It is immediate, personal, and frightening.
So how do you cope? Do you surrender to circumstances, or is there a way to steady yourself?
At the macro level, investors and pensioners are often advised to increase liquidity, to hold safer assets such as gold, to diversify supply chains, to move from “just-in-time” efficiency to resilient redundancy. Businesses are told to scenario-plan, to build buffers, to protect margins.
That advice has its place.
But let’s take it down a level or two.
What about the person facing bankruptcy? The business owner on the brink of closure? The worker who has just lost a job and does not know how the month will end?
When you are standing on the raw edge of survival, uncertainty is not a headline — it is a daily reality. In that position, the only workable strategy is to narrow your focus. Instead of trying to solve the next six months, concentrate on the next 24 hours.
Secure the basics: shelter, food, some form of income — however temporary. Reach out early to family, friends, community networks, churches, charities. Seek debt counselling before the situation becomes irretrievable. Let go of pride if pride is standing between you and practical help.
It can mean accepting that the “old life” is on pause, and that a “survival life” must take over for a while. That shift is painful. But by controlling the small things still within your reach — daily budgeting, small acts of networking, keeping routines — you create a modest circle of certainty in the middle of chaos. That circle can stabilise your thinking and protect your mental health.
Perhaps that is what Ibrahim has learned. When you have lived through upheaval, you understand that stability is never guaranteed. You stop assuming permanence. You learn to move with events rather than be shattered by them.
Tolerance for high uncertainty may indeed be a learned skill. It is learned through hardship, through adaptation, through surviving what you once thought you could not survive.
There are no easy answers. Each person must find their own way through adversity. But it is worth asking yourself, in quieter moments: How do I respond when the ground shifts? Do I panic like Chicken Little, or do I pause and think?
Life is precarious.
The question is whether we can train ourselves to live — and even to act generously — in spite of that.
