South Africas’s Unemployment Rate vs Reality: The Hustle Economy on the Street

We are enjoying our 4.5 months trip to South Africa, basking in the residents hospitality, eating the amazing food on offer, while experiencing some of the day to day driving challenges that the South Africans face each day. One of the first things you see on the streets is how many people try to make a living while unemployed. Enjoy this with me, and take your hat of for the South African’s relisience, grit and ability to keep smiling in the face of so many odds set against you.

Welcome to the Real Job Market

If you believe the official statistics, more than a third of South Africans are unemployed, some figures put it as high as 40% unemployed. But there is a whole seperate industry that are not tracked by official spreadsheets. You don’t need a CV to sell koeksisters, a reference letter to wash a Hilux, or an HR induction to juggle machetes at the robot (traffic light). South Africa’s true job market isn’t in the corporate towers; it’s on the pavements, in the parking lots, and under a tree with a coffee cart that somehow has oat milk.

The Feather Duster King

In the land of the ostrich the feather duster salesman is king. Armed with rainbow of fluff sticks, (that is for the modern home cleaner that wants to brighten up her day, and that have no time for the bleak black or gray feathers), while he rules the traffic light like a monarch on commission. He doesn’t have medical aid or UIF (Unemployment Insurance Fund), but he does have the uncanny ability to guilt you into buying something you didn’t know you needed until the robot turned red.

The Brave Car-Wash Gladiator

Outside restaurants lurks the gladiator of grime. He spots your dusty Hilux, treks/walks three blocks for water, and starts scrubbing like his life depends on it. There’s no upfront agreement, no guarantee you won’t drive off mid-soap, and no assurance of payment. Yet he battles on, because hope is stronger than dust — and maybe this wash will buy him a Gatsby and a Coke. FYI the gatsby is a massive sandwich that I will blog about in the future.

The Varkoor Florist

Forget Woolies roses with their perfect petals and price tags that make you sweat. At the robots, you can buy a bunch of varkoor — wild, spiky weeds that have been cleverly rebranded as “romance.” Plucked fresh from the veld, they arrive bundled in recycled ice-cream tubs, proudly marketed as sustainable bouquets. For the bloke speeding home who suddenly remembers it’s his anniversary, those prickly stems aren’t weeds — they’re marital survival gear, the difference between dinner for two and sleeping on the couch.

For the seller, it’s a dream business model: no farmer demanding his share, no middleman squeezing out profits, and no shop rent bleeding the margins. Just wander into the fields at sunrise, swing a panga like you’re auditioning for Survivor, and voilà — fresh stock for the day. The only snag? Seasonality. Spring is your Black Friday, your Christmas rush, your one chance to cash in. After that, your product line vanishes faster than Eskom’s promises, and you’re back to brainstorming your next hustle.

The Black-Bag Brigade

Next come the recyclers, hauling black bags so enormous they could double as parachutes. Their quarry? Cans, bottles, anything shiny. Every Coke can is a cent, every water bottle a micro-bonus. They don’t need Fitbits — their entire business model is 20,000 daily steps and kilos of clinking treasure. Call it entrepreneurship, cardio, and climate activism rolled into one.

The Street Troubadour

Then there’s the troubadour, perched on an old milk can, serenading rush-hour traffic. His stage? The yellow line. His mic? Thin air. His encore? Whatever song he still remembers the words to. Opera houses may have velvet curtains, but only here can you get live roadside karaoke while idling at a red light.

The Bead & Metal Artist

The artist, bending scrap metal and threading beads into giraffes, Springboks, and wire cars. His workshop is the pavement, his supply chain the scrapyard, his inspiration pure imagination. Ikea might give you a lamp, but only the robot artist can give you a kudu head that fits in your boot and doesn’t come flat-packed with missing screws.

The Traffic-Light Juggler

Cirque du Soleil charges thousands. At the traffic light, you get front-row seats for R5. The juggler throws balls, clubs, sometimes machetes, while drivers pretend to scroll their phones to avoid eye contact. It’s not just performance — it’s survival. And when he drops one, you clap anyway, because anyone willing to risk a thumb for small change deserves a standing ovation. I saw this in Benoni, but was so mesmerized that I could not get my camera out on time.

The Pop-Up Barista

And then, just when you think you’ve escaped civilization, there it is: a pop-up coffee cart in the middle of nowhere. No sign of Wi-Fi, but somehow there’s cappuccino foam art on your cup. The barista has no fixed address, no pension, and definitely no health inspector — but he does have oat milk, almond milk, and a loyalty card that’s just his cousin writing ticks on a scrap of cardboard. Starbucks may have branches, but the roadside cart has branches literally — it’s under a tree.

The Parking Lot Protectors

And then, of course, we have the self-appointed parking attendants. They don’t own the lot, they don’t wear uniforms, and they definitely don’t have insurance — but they do have a whistle and the confidence of a traffic cop. With exaggerated arm waves, they guide you into a spot you could have found yourself, then hover nearby pretending to “watch your car.” Truth be told, their security system consists of glaring at pedestrians and shouting “Boss!” when you come back. Payment isn’t compulsory, but you know that awkward shuffle in your pocket means you’ll end up handing over a coin or two — a small fee for the peace of mind that your car was probably safe, unless they had to nip off for a smoke break.

White Collars Gone Casual

And let’s not forget the new faces of informality. The ex-corporate oke now sells artisanal biltong at a weekend market — “grass-fed, organic, and spiritually blessed.” The retrenched admin clerk has pivoted to “executive-level ironing services,” complete with motivational chats. And the driveway car wash guy? He calls himself a “brand,” because every entrepreneur knows branding is half the hustle.

The Hashtag Hustlers

Not all informal work happens at the robots. Some of it happens on Wi-Fi, where ring lights and hashtags turn bedrooms into boardrooms. Meet the influencer who makes a living filming “Get Ready With Me” videos in a flat with peeling paint, or the guy reviewing sandwiches on TikTok like he’s the Gordon Ramsay of Soweto. There’s no formal payslip — just data bundles, borrowed backdrops, and the hope that enough likes will eventually turn into airtime money. When you finally make it to the big league, and you get advertising fees, that’s when things might go your way. It’s the same hustle as selling varkoor at the robot, only now the bouquet is a ring light and your product is yourself.

From Spare Room to Lekke Loot

And then there are the new landlords of the informal empire: anyone with a spare room, granny flat, or even just a corner with a mattress and a plug point. Forget formal leases and background checks — in this economy, if it locks, it rents. Suddenly your teenage son’s old bedroom is a “boutique suite with rustic charm,” and the garage is a “loft apartment with industrial vibes.” Guests are greeted not with concierge service but with a polite note: “Please don’t use too much hot water, Eskom is watching.”

It’s capitalism with curtains — minimal overhead, maximum creativity, and the kind of passive income that’s only passive if you ignore the endless WhatsApp texts asking, “Do you provide towels?”

The Tax-Free Kingdom

Here’s the cherry on top: most of them are not paying tax. Not because they’ve got fancy accountants in Sandton, but because their entire tax plan is don’t register. The feather duster king isn’t filing with the South African Revenue Services SARS. The varkoor florist doesn’t log into eFiling. The juggler’s VAT is the R2 coin you lobbed at him. If SARS ever tried to tax this lot, they’d need a new division: The Department of Side Hustles.

🖼 Suggested image: Illustration or cartoon-style tax collector being ignored at a traffic light.

Rebrand and Relax

And maybe that’s why government is so keen to “redefine” unemployment. Why call them jobless when you can rebrand the entire informal sector as “Independent Contractors in the Gig Economy™”? The feather duster king? Sanitation Specialist. The troubadour? Freelance Musician. The recycler? Environmental Impact Consultant.

One policy tweak, and unemployment drops to single digits. Suddenly South Africa isn’t struggling — it’s the most “entrepreneurial workforce” in the world. Problem solved. Just don’t ask anyone to pay UIF. For the uninitiated, UIF is the Unemployment Insurance Fund: a neat little system where you pay in every month so you can claim when you’re out of work. In the informal sector, though, UIF stands for “Unlikely Income, Friend.”

Conclusion

This is by no stretch of the imagination all the jobs in the informal sector, but I try to keep in mind that you dont want to read an encycloperia.

But here’s the real truth: behind the jokes and the hustle is a reality with no guaranteed income, no steady paycheck, no HR department to fight your battles. What there is, though, is grit. Resilient, hard-working South Africans turning sidewalks, robots, and parking lots into their boardrooms. It’s survival, yes — but it’s also entrepreneurship in its rawest, most human form.

FAQs About South Africa’s Informal Economy

What is South Africa’s informal economy?
It’s the part of the economy not captured in official statistics — street traders, recyclers, car washers, and other self-employed hustlers making a living outside formal jobs.

How many people work in South Africa’s informal sector?
According to Stats SA, roughly 3 million South Africans earn their living informally, though the real number is likely higher due to unrecorded hustles.

What kinds of jobs are in the hustle economy?
From feather duster sales and car washes to bead art, varkoor flower sales, and pop-up coffee carts — the hustle economy is where survival meets entrepreneurship.