The recent government approval of a seven per cent increase in the price of bread, allegedly at the behest of the country’s Bakers Association, has ignited public outrage – and rightly so.
This latest increase exposes a government that governs by numbers, not by conscience…
Officials speak of vague justifications such as ‘market forces’ and ‘industry sustainability’ while conveniently ignoring the daily torment of the ordinary liSwati who can barely afford a loaf. It is a familiar script: The rich shielding their profits while the poor pay the price.
When leaders lose touch with the hunger in their people’s homes, they lose the moral right to lead.
The question is not just about the price of bread, it’s about the moral cost of leadership that seems increasingly out of touch with the people it claims to serve.
Last week Tuesday, the citizens of Eswatini did not wake up to news of a breakthrough in job creation, an increase in social grants, or a drop in the relentless high cost of living.
Instead, they were greeted by screaming newspaper headlines announcing a state-sanctioned increase in the price of bread.
A mere seven per cent? Some may contemptuously dismiss it as a minor adjustment, but in the dusty slum areas of Manzini, the cramped stick-and-mud township homes in Mbabane and the struggling rural homesteads, this was not a statistic – this is the final straw; a declaration of economic war on the already empty pockets of the grassroots.
The numbers behind the callous percentage hike approval
The government-approved hike, nudging an 800g white loaf from E16.73 to E17.99 and a brown loaf from E14.58 to E15.60, is a masterclass in economic brutality disguised as bureaucratic procedure. It is a decision that, on the surface, responds to the legitimate cries of the Eswatini Bakers Association and local bakeries citing rising input costs.
However, when this decision is placed under the microscope of the nation’s agonising socio-economic reality, it reveals a profound and dangerous disconnect between the corridors of power and the kitchens of the people.
This is not merely about the cost of flour and yeast; it is about the cost of survival, the erosion of hope and the quiet, simmering anger that history teaches us is the kindling for profound unrest.
What bread represents to the grassroots
To understand the gravity of a seven per cent increase on a loaf of bread, one must first understand what bread represents in Eswatini. It is not a luxury; it is the bedrock of sustenance. It is the hurried breakfast for a child rushing to school, the lunch packed by a mother with nothing else to give and the simple supper for an elderly guardian who has already stretched a E600 monthly grant to its breaking point.
Bread is the edible symbol of a hand-to-mouth existence. When its price rises, it is not an inflationary adjustment; it is a direct cut to the caloric intake of a family, a forced choice between a child’s lunch and a unit of electricity.
A perfect storm of unaffordability
This bread price hike does not exist in a vacuum. It is the latest, most visceral blow in a relentless assault on the financial stability of ordinary emaSwati.
It arrives on the heels of increased electricity tariffs and under the shadow of looming bus fare hikes.
Citizens are already reeling from the suffocating burden of unaffordable fuel, transport and power costs. This concatenation or nexus of increases forms a perfect storm of unaffordability, where every essential of life is becoming a privilege.
The context in which this storm is brewing is what transforms an economic policy into a ‘ticking time bomb.’
The nation is grappling with catastrophically high unemployment, particularly among the youth.
Wages for those fortunate enough to have work are stagnant, their value evaporating with each new headline announcing a price increase.
Job losses are on the rise and the social fabric, already frayed, is being stretched to its absolute limit. The government speaks of sustainability for bakeries, but what of the sustainability of families? What of the sustainability of a populace that is being systematically priced out of existence?
The official rationale: A partial truth
The official (administrative) rationale, as presented, is difficult to fault from a purely balance-sheet perspective. The Eswatini Bankers Association cited rising input costs: global wheat prices, energy costs and supply chain disruptions as forces ‘adversely affecting the sustainability of local bakeries.’
This is undoubtedly true. Bakeries are businesses, not charities. They cannot operate at a loss indefinitely. The last bread price increase was, if I’m not mistaken, in 2022, and the economic pressures since then have more than tripled.
However, the brutal honesty demanded of this situation forces us to ask: is this the whole story? Is government’s role merely to act as a rubber stamp for the profit-and-loss statements of an industry?
When it approves such an increase, is it performing a cold calculus that weighs the survival of businesses against the survival of its citizens? And in that calculation, who consistently seems to lose?
The questions that demand answers
The questions are piercing and necessary. Is the welfare of the grassroots truly considered in these deliberations? Or is the primary, if not sole, consideration a profit-driven agenda that prioritises the stability of commerce over the welfare of the commons?
Let’s be honest: government’s first duty is to protect its people. That is its primary and most pressing duty – period.
It is the people who vote politicians to power.
Their (politicians) loyalty is to the electorate – and that is non-negotiable. This protection extends beyond security from physical harm to security from destitution.
By approving this hike without the announcement of parallel, robust and immediate mitigating social welfare measures, the government has effectively chosen sides.
It has chosen to underwrite the sustainability of an industry by undermining the sustainability of its most vulnerable citizens. That, to me – and I can bet you my last dime, it is the sentiment felt by the struggling majority.
A failure of imagination and empathy
The stand apparently taken by the administration exposes a profound failure of imagination and empathy. The challenge of rising input costs is real, but the solution cannot be a linear, simplistic transfer of that entire cost onto the end consumer, especially when that consumer is already on the brink of socio-economic collapse.
Questions come thick and fast: Where is the evidence of a comprehensive strategy that looks beyond the bakery’s bottom line? Where are the subsidies for essential staples such as bread, electricity and water? Where is the investment in local agriculture to reduce reliance on imported wheat? Where is the temporary tax relief on essential food items?
The absence of such complementary policies reveals an approval process that is myopic, reactionary and brutally indifferent to the human consequence. I stand to be corrected.
The micro-realities of grassroots survival
To grasp the true impact, one must move beyond the macroeconomics and into the micro-realities of daily life. Consider the elderly, the unsung heroes of Eswatini’s social structure, who are left to care for orphaned decimated by deadly illnesses like HIV/AIDS. They survive on a paltry E600 monthly grant from the government. Before this hike, that E600 was a mathematical nightmare. Now, it is an impossibility.
A brown bread loaf at E15.60 may seem insignificant, but it represents a significant percentage of their entire monthly income for a single loaf. For a family that relies on bread for two meals a day, the monthly cost of bread alone becomes a substantial portion of that grant, leaving almost nothing for rent, school fees, medicine, or other essential food items.
This is not budgeting; this is a slow, grinding form of starvation sanctioned by the state. These citizens, who have lived through decades of change, are now being asked to bear the burden of an economic system that has forgotten them, their sacrifice and their humanity. The Bible says we must honour – not dishonour our parents, which includes all the gogos and mkhulus scattered across the kingdom.
The invisible burden on children
Children carrying bread to school will now carry a heavier, invisible burden: the anxiety of their parents, the subtle shame of a diminished meal.
The psychological toll of this constant financial pressure is immeasurable. It breeds intergenerational trauma, where the primary lesson of childhood is not hope or ambition, but scarcity and fear.
When a government policy directly contributes to this environment, it has failed in its most fundamental covenant with its people.
Historical parallels we cannot ignore
My recollection of the Arab Spring Uprising of 2010 or do is not a dramatic flourish; it is a chilling and relevant historical parallel that the powers-that-be would be foolish to ignore.
The downfall of regimes in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya was not triggered by a demand for multi-party democracy alone. It was ignited by a single, desperate act: the self-immolation of one Mohamed Bouazizi, a Tunisian street vendor humiliated by officials and driven to despair by the impossibility of making a living.
His story was a catalyst because it encapsulated the collective anguish of millions: the indignity of corruption, the brutality of economic exclusion and the suffocating weight of being unable to afford basic commodities.
The fuel for unrest
Eswatini is not the Arab world of 2010/11, but the underlying fuel is the same; a deep, pervasive sense of economic injustice.
When people are unemployed, when their wages are stagnant, when they see no future for themselves or their children, and when the state’s primary intervention is to make the bread they rely on more expensive, it sends a clear message; your survival is not our priority.
This perception is a political solvent far more potent than any opposition movement. It dissolves legitimacy, erodes consent and fosters a collective desperation that can explode in unpredictable and uncontrollable ways. Recall June 2021?
The government, in approving this hike, may see itself as making a tough but necessary economic decision.
From the perspective of the grassroots, though, it is an act of betrayal, hatred and disdain. It is proof that the state is an instrument not of their welfare, but of their exploitation. This is the ‘ticking time bomb’ – not the bomb of organised rebellion, but the bomb of a populace with nothing left to lose.
A Path Forward: Immediate and long-term solutions?
The situation is dire, but it is not hopeless. It demands, however, a radical shift in perspective and policy from the government. The first step is an admission of failure: a failure to protect the most vulnerable. The government must move beyond being a passive approver of price hikes and become an active architect of social protection.
Immediate, targeted relief is non-negotiable. This could include:
- Direct food subsidies: Implementing a voucher or smart-card system for essential food items like bread and maize meal for the poorest households, particularly those with orphaned and the elderly.
- Expansion/increase of Social grants: An urgent review and increase of the old-age grant and other social welfare payments to reflect the true cost of living.
- Transparent Dialogue: The process for approving such hikes must be made transparent and include credible representatives of consumer rights and grassroots communities, not just industry bodies.
Long-term, this crisis is a screaming alarm bell for the need to diversify the economy, reduce dependency on imports by investing in climate-resilient local agriculture and create an environment where sustainable, decent jobs are the norm, not the exception.
The choice(s) before us
The seven per cent increase on a loaf of bread is a small number with catastrophic implications. It is a symbol of a state that has lost empathy for its people.
The citizens of Eswatini are not asking for charity; they are demanding justice – the justice of being able to afford a simple loaf of bread without having to sacrifice another essential of life.
To ignore this demand is to play with fire. For when the scent of baking bread, the very symbol of sustenance, becomes a reminder of systemic failure and impending hunger, the revolution may not be televised, but it will be fed by a rage that is both justified and, ultimately, inevitable.
The time for the government to listen is not when the streets are burning, but now, while the embers of discontent are still smoldering in the hearts of a people pushed to the brink.
I call – we call upon our government to be considerate of the plight and hardships faced by its loyal citizenry. As much as emaSwati ahlonipha, this priceless national attribute should not, must not be abused or…else.
Peace! Shalom!
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