You must have heard it: “My son’s in the best school in Pretoria. Expensive… but worth it.”

Or, “My doctor is the best. There’s a six-month waiting list just to get through the door boet. But totally worth the wait.”

And you nod politely, while doing the mental gymnastics of how to pay school fees, petrol, and food with what’s left after tax.

Because here’s the truth: not all of us have access to “the best”. But somehow, miraculously, we get by.

Take Oom Kenny. Drives an old Corolla with 422,000km on the clock. His secret? His neighbor Sipho, a self-taught mechanic who knows that car better than Toyota Japan does. Sipho doesn’t have a fancy waiting room with cappuccinos and a receptionist named Taryn.

But he fixes what’s broken, charges what’s fair, and he’s right next door with a spanner and a smile. No awards. No website. No fake Google reviews.

 But when that car starts every morning at 5am, it's Sipho who made the magic happen.

Or meet tannie Lena, a single mom who bakes cakes from her tiny flat kitchen. Not Insta-worthy unicorn cakes with gold leaf. Just honest vanilla sponge with homemade icing.

She sells them at the taxi rank, R5 a slice. That’s how she pays for school fees at the “cheap” school down the road, the one with no swimming pool, no robotics lab, and no drama club.

But you know what her son has?

• A clean uniform.
• Lunch in his bag.
• A mother who shows him, every day, what love looks like.

That kid doesn’t need the best school in Pretoria. He’s got the best damn woman in Gauteng cheering for him.

We glorify the “top 1%” the best specialists, the exclusive estates, the elite institutions.

 But the world? It runs because of the other 99%.

• The backyard welders.
• The auntie who sews school uniforms for R80.
• The cousin who works double shifts so his brother can study.

None of them post about it.  But they’re holding this country together with grit, grace, and just enough airtime to check the school WhatsApp group.

So, Here’s to You

• You, who buys the flu meds at Shoprite instead of Dischem.
• You, who can’t afford R20k school fees but still shows up at every parent meeting.
• You, who doesn’t have the “best” anything, but gives your best, daily.
• You’re not on a waiting list.  You’re not on Instagram. But you’re in the trenches, making it work.

And that, my broer, is more than worth it.