Valentine’s Day: The Annual Reminder That Someone Else Was Picked

Valentine’s Day… and the Silence Was Loud

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💅🏿💃🏿🌹🥀🍓🎈

To the married.

To the dating.

To the situationships.

To the “it’s complicated.”

And to the single people - no boyfriend, no crush, not even a toaster.

(And yes… happy new month — very delayed 🥹 life's been happening.)

Today was… weird. 

I was mentally preparing myself for the annual emotional assault.You know the one.

The countdown starts a week before - couples soft-launching, “my person” posts warming up, suspicious flower deliveries appearing in stories, and suddenly everyone is in love. Everyone has always been in love. Everyone will forever be in love.

And the singles?

We just scroll carefully.

But today… nothing.🤷🏿

Valentine’s Day was dry. Suspiciously dry.

I opened social media ready to emotionally duck, and there were just normal posts. Memes. Random selfies. Food. Someone arguing about nonsense. No coordinated romance parade. No pressure. No mass relationship announcements trying to convert me into sadness.

For once, the algorithm respected my peace. 🎉

Actually, it felt almost unfamiliar — like when noise stops and your ears are still waiting for it. I kept expecting the wave to come later in the evening… the coordinated posts at 20:00, the restaurant tables, the captions longer than the relationship itself. But midnight is getting closer and nothing really happened. The world just… continued.🤨

And honestly? I liked it. 😁

Because Valentine’s Day has slowly become less about love and more about performance. A public audit of your desirability. A yearly reminder asking: has anyone chosen you yet? 💔

And sometimes the pressure isn’t even external, it’s subtle. You start measuring time. Another February. Another year older. Another year of “maybe next time.”

So today felt… quiet.

No flowers, but that’s normal.I’ve never received flowers. Not once. Not from anyone. Not even a “here.” Not even a pity rose.

And strangely, it didn’t hurt today.

Maybe because for the first time, the world wasn’t shouting romance in my face. Maybe because silence is kinder than comparison.

Or maybe… I’m just getting used to my own company. ❤️‍🩹

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

DEGREES THAT KEEP THE POOR POOR

A reflective pause on useless qualifications, societal consequences, and why this madness must stop!

Some degrees are sold as dreams. Some degrees are sold as self-expression. Some degrees are sold as fun. And yet, for many young people — especially those who grew up counting coins and stretching rands — these degrees are traps.

This is a social reflection to degrees exist that do little to contribute to economies, personal security, or career viability. Let’s explore this.

WHEN PASSION MEETS POVERTY AND FAILS

You’ve seen it: students excitedly, unashamedly sharing their new degree on social media. Parents proud. Families hopeful. And yet, the labour market yawns. 🥱

Entry-level positions demand experience nobody can have before graduation. Managers refuse to train newcomers. Countries complain about shortages of engineers, teachers, and accountants, while universities churn out degrees that qualify students for… nothing. Rich students can take these risks, but for those relying on education to climb out of poverty, this is reckless.

Passion alone cannot pay rent, feed families, or sustain futures. Education must serve first — inspire second.

THE TOP 10 MOST USELESS DEGREES (WITH REALITY CHECKS)

These degrees exist in the US, UK, and parts of Europe. They are sometimes found in other countries by imitation. They are niche, highly specialized, and rarely lead to employment unless the student already has wealth or connections.

1. Puppetry (BFA) – 3–4 years, University of Connecticut (USA). Puppet design and performance. Fun, yes. Livable? Almost never.

2. Astrology / Metaphysical Studies – 3 years, private/online colleges (US/UK). Study of zodiac and planetary influences. Reality: not recognized professionally.

3. Pop Culture Studies – 3–4 years, NYU (USA), University of Sussex (UK). Celebrity, media, fandom. Employers: “So… what can you actually do?”

4. Circus Arts – 3 years, European conservatories. Acrobatics and juggling. Tiny job market, high physical risk.

5. Equestrian Studies – 3–4 years, University of Arizona (USA). Horse care and management. Accessible mostly to the wealthy, irrelevant to most city jobs.

6. Theme Park Management – 3 years, University of Central Florida (USA). Guest experience and attraction operations. Employers: Disney and a few others; jobs mostly connection-based.

7. Floral Design (Degree) – 2–3 years, private design colleges (US/UK). Skill: arranging flowers. Rent doesn’t accept bouquets.

8. Paranormal / Ghost Studies – 2–3 years, niche private programs. Folklore, hauntings. Ghosts do not pay salaries.

9. General / Liberal Studies – 3 years, many global universities. Broad electives, no specialization. Graduates: confused by employers.

10. Creative Writing (Bachelor only) – 3 years, many US/UK universities. Fiction, poetry, criticism. Skill is useful, degree doesn’t guarantee income; AI is starting to write faster than humans.

Each of these degrees looks good on paper and on Instagram, but when reality hits, many graduates find themselves underemployed or in debt without skills to fall back on.

IF WE CARE ABOUT THE FUTURE, THIS MUST CHANGE

Governments complain about shortages of teachers, engineers, doctors, and technical workers. They talk about economic growth while universities churn out degrees with minimal labour market value. The disconnect is stark.

If higher education is serious about societal contribution, then regulation, transparency, and honest guidance are necessary. Publish graduate employment rates. Limit public funding for programs with near-zero demand. Protect students, especially first-generation learners, from predatory marketing.

Education must first build security, then build passion. Anything else is a luxury sold as hope — a luxury too many cannot afford.

The pause is clear: passion without purpose, when sold as a degree, is a trap for the poor, and a disservice to the economy.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Refugees, Asylum Seekers, Permanent Residents: Yes, We Pay Tax!

**“Foreigners Don’t Pay Tax?”Then Explain How We’re Still Surviving**

There’s a sentence that keeps floating around South Africa like it’s gospel. It’s shouted at protests, typed angrily in comment sections, repeated on timelines without a second thought.

“Foreigners don’t pay tax.”

It’s said so casually. So confidently. So loudly.

And every time I hear it, I pause — not because I’m confused, but because I’m genuinely curious.

Because I’m here. I’m living. I’m surviving.

And somehow, every single month, money leaves my hands.

So today, I’m not here to fight. I’m not here to insult anyone. I’m not here to pretend that some South Africans are not struggling — because they are.

I’m here to ask a very simple question, slowly and respectfully:

How?

How exactly are we not paying tax?

Living in South Africa Is Already Taxed by Default

Let’s start with something basic: existing.

The moment you wake up in South Africa, tax is already involved. Not later. Not optionally. Immediately.

You switch on the light — electricity isn’t free. It never has been. And embedded in that electricity bill are service charges, municipal fees, and yes, tax. When you buy electricity, no one asks you for a green ID book or a passport before charging you VAT. The system doesn’t pause and say, “Wait, are you foreign?” The meter runs regardless.

Same with water. Whether it’s a municipal bill, a landlord’s invoice, or rent that includes utilities — water is paid for. And that payment carries tax. Unless foreigners have discovered a secret underground river that only we drink from, then again, tax is being paid.

And that’s just the house. The moment you step outside — transport, fuel, deliveries, airtime, data, food — tax follows. It’s quiet, it’s automatic, and it’s unavoidable. VAT doesn’t discriminate. VAT doesn’t debate. VAT doesn’t care about your accent, your surname, or where you were born.

So when someone says, “foreigners don’t pay tax,” what they are really saying is something else entirely — because economically, that statement does not hold at all.

What People Actually Mean When They Say “Tax”

Here’s where we need to be honest with ourselves.

When many people say “foreigners don’t pay tax,” they don’t mean all tax. They mean one specific type of tax — PAYE. The one you see clearly on a payslip.

And because many foreigners are:

• self-employed

• informal traders

• small business owners

or informal or small-scale work by foreigners still contributing to the economy and taxes.

VAT is still paid. Fuel levies are still paid.

 Business expenses are still taxed.

 Municipal services are still charged. Rent includes tax. Transport includes tax. Survival includes tax.

So the issue isn’t that foreigners don’t pay tax.

The issue is that their tax is not seen, and in South Africa, what isn’t seen is often assumed not to exist.

But absence of visibility is not absence of contribution

Let’s Be Brave Enough to Say What This Is Really About

This conversation is not actually about tax.

It’s about who gets help when things are hard.

Many Black South Africans are struggling — with unemployment, with grants, with NSFAS, with access. That frustration is real, and it deserves to be taken seriously.

 The government has failed its people in many ways.

But instead of holding systems accountable, anger is redirected. And in that redirection, “foreigners” become a convenient explanation.

Here’s the thing though — if the real argument is:

“We want grants and benefits to be for citizens only,”

then say that. Say it clearly. Say it honestly and Loud. 📢 

But don’t erase the reality of people who are legally here, who work, who pay bills, who pay tax every single day of their lives, just to make that argument stronger.

And let’s also stop pretending that when people say “foreigners,” they mean everyone. We all know who this word points to. We all know who gets shouted at, searched, blamed, and insulted.

It’s not all foreigners.

It’s Black foreigners.

So I’ll Ask Again — Calmly

If foreigners don’t pay tax, then please explain:

How do we buy electricity?

How do we pay for water?

How do we buy food, transport, data, and fuel?

How do we even survive month after month in an economy that is already taxed at every corner?

PLEASE!

If you don’t want foreigners to benefit from grants, be upfront.

But don’t insult our reality by pretending we don’t contribute.

The comment section is open.

Tell me where I’m wrong.

— The Dreamer’s Pause ✨

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Addington Primary Outrage: South Africans Cry Foul as Foreign Learners Take the Stage

WHEN RIGHTS BECOME ENTITLEMENT: ADDINGTON PRIMARY, IMMIGRATION, AND THE AUDACITY WE ARE PRETENDING NOT TO SEE

Let’s pause. Properly. Because what happened at Addington Primary School in Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, is not just another “school admissions issue,” not just another protest, and definitely not just “xenophobia loading.”

This is about pressure, failure, entitlement, and a country that is being tested — quietly, repeatedly, and dangerously.

Between Monday and Wednesday in mid-January, tensions escalated outside Addington Primary as parents gathered at the school gates over learner placement for the 2026 academic year. Local South African parents claimed their children were not placed, while children of foreign nationals — some allegedly undocumented — were admitted. The situation escalated fast. Police were deployed. Teaching and learning were disrupted. Journalists arrived. Microphones were switched on. Cameras rolled.

By then, this was no longer an administrative issue. It had become a national spectacle.

The KwaZulu-Natal Department of Education stepped in, reminding the public that Section 29 of the South African Constitution guarantees every child the right to basic education, regardless of documentation. Schools, they said, cannot exclude children purely based on immigration status. Engagements were underway to stabilise the situation.

All of that is factual. All of it is important.

But facts alone don’t tell the full story — especially not this one.

CHILDREN ARE NOT THE PROBLEM. ADULTS ARE.

Let’s get this out of the way immediately, because it matters.

Children are innocent.

They did not choose where they were born.

They did not choose their parents’ documentation status.

They did not design South Africa’s immigration system or break it.

Marching at a school gate, shouting while children are inside classrooms, was wrong. Full stop. That was a failure of judgment, not justice.

If anyone needed to be confronted, it was Home Affairs — the department responsible for documentation, immigration control, and enforcement. Not teachers. Not principals. Not children.

 Schools are not immigration offices, and educators are not border officials. They are operating under pressure in a system that has been failing for years.

That said — and this is where honesty becomes uncomfortable — what followed on camera was just as damaging.

Because the problem that week was not only where people protested, but how some people spoke once the cameras were on.

LET’S SAY THE PART NO ONE WANTS TO SAY OUT LOUD

I am Foreign National. Born and raised in South Africa. And watching those interviews was embarrassing in a way that’s hard to explain unless you live it.

Not because foreign parents were defending their children’s right to education — that right exists, and it is constitutional.

But because of the audacity, the tone, the entitlement, the nerve, and the complete lack of self-awareness displayed on national television.

Statements like "South Africa is for everybody," “this is our country,” “we don’t pay school fees back home,” “we get grants,” "we are here forever" and “we’ll do whatever we want” were said openly, proudly, and without shame. During a crisis. In someone else’s country. While undocumented — or allegedly undocumented.

That is not courage.

That is not activism.

That is not intelligence.

That is entitlement — and entitlement, in a country already under pressure, is dangerous.

What made it worse was that the majority of people speaking on camera were Congolese. Faces. Accents. Mannerisms. Anyone who knows, knows. And whether fair or not, perception sticks.

One reckless voice does not represent everyone — but it can endanger everyone.

Permanent residents.

Law-abiding legal migrants.

Legal refugees who followed the process.

People who live quietly, respectfully, and carefully.

When you speak like that on live television, you are not just talking for yourself. You are dragging an entire community into the spotlight — unprepared, exposed, and vulnerable.

And the lack of shame? That was the most disturbing part.

Expired documents. Undocumented children. Yet no urgency. No humility. No sense of risk. Just loud defiance, as if tolerance equals entitlement.

ENTITLEMENT IS NOT COURAGE. IT IS DANGEROUS.

Let’s be very clear: the Constitution protects children — it does not erase immigration law.

Rights do not cancel responsibility. They coexist with it.

If you are undocumented, threatening local citizens on live television is not bravery. It is recklessness. It is gambling with your safety, your children’s safety, and your future.

Fix your papers.

Regularise your status.

Or go back home. 🙁🙏🏿

Stop confusing patience with permission.

Because patience runs out.

And let’s be honest — if tomorrow the government decides to enforce deportations aggressively, what then? Your business is here. Your children are here. Your entire life is here. Shouting will not save you.

South Africans are tired.

Tired of unemployment.

Tired of crime.

Tired of corruption.

Tired of systems that fail them again and again.

Dismissing that exhaustion, provoking it, or mocking it is how things explode. Pretending anger doesn’t exist does not make it disappear — it makes it more dangerous later.

And when things turn ugly, nobody wins. Nobody!

South Africa is not perfect, but it has given many people opportunities they would never have had elsewhere. That deserves respect — not entitlement, not arrogance, not reckless defiance.

Rights exist.

Laws exist.

Accountability also matters.

If we cannot speak honestly about this — especially within our own communities — then we are not protecting anyone. We are simply postponing the crisis.

The Dreamer’s Pause.

Because silence has never fixed what honesty refuses to confront. 🇿🇦

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

WHEN WILL AFRICA REALLY RISE?!

How Our Presidents Turned Republics Into Family Businesses

There comes a moment in every generation when silence becomes betrayal.

And I am tired of being silent.

Because what we are witnessing in Africa today is not leadership. It is inheritance. It is entitlement. It is the recycling of power among the same old men, the same old families, the same old surnames — while millions of young, brilliant, educated Africans are told, politely or violently, to wait their turn. A turn that never comes.

We were told independence would bring dignity. We were told democracy would bring accountability. We were told elections would give us a voice.

But what we got instead is something far more dangerous:

Presidents who behave like kings. States that look like estates. And governments that operate like private companies — with family members as shareholders.

Let’s stop pretending.

This is not colonialism anymore.

This is not Europe.

This is not America.

This is us.

And it is exhausting.

And we are the audience, not the authors.

The most dangerous lie we tell ourselves is that nothing can change.

It can.

But change does not begin with violence alone. It begins with fearlessness.

With refusal.

With organisation.

With participation.

With documentation.

With courage.

With unity.

It begins when Africans stop seeing leadership as inheritance and start seeing it as service.

When we stop worshipping longevity and start demanding results.

When we stop excusing greed as experience.

This is not a call to destroy.

It is a call to wake up.

To organise.

To speak.

To write.

To question.

To challenge.

To criticize 

To fight 

To build alternative leadership.

Because the real revolution is not in the streets alone — it is in the systems.

One day, these greedy men will leave office. Age guarantees that much.

The question is:

What kind of Africa will they leave behind?

A continent of dynasties?

Or a continent of citizens?

Because history is watching.

And so are we.

And we are no longer scared.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.