We have a saying at home and in my business that’s become part of our culture: “Sometimes you just can’t buy the cow.” It’s sometimes used light-heartedly, sometimes pointedly, and it speaks to the importance of setting boundaries, especially when it comes to people we love. It’s about valuing ourselves and how we allow others to treat us.
Many of us regularly find ourselves in situations where people close to us need something – a cow of sorts. It’s often money but it can be time, material items or acts of service. They are in a crunch, and the pressure is building. Part of us says, “how can I let them suffer when I care about them?” Another part has seen this movie many times before and says, “I will suffer as a result of stepping in.” But we step in anyway. We buy the cow.
Then comes the aftermath. The silence. The part where we quietly go without, take on debt, deny our own needs or the needs of other family members. That silence carries a very high cost, a cost to our health, our energy, our wellbeing, our finances and even our relationships.
A 2024 FinScope South Africa Consumer Survey, revealed that an estimated 10 to 12 million South African adults are over‑indebted, meaning they are unable to meet their debt repayments on a regular basis. The same survey found that 75% of adults who had borrowed money in the past year relied on credit to pay for basic essentials such as food. In my line of work as an Industrial Psychologist, I regularly encounter horror stories of people trapped in debt who turn to sports betting, gambling and loan sharks just to try and survive. These attempts never end well, and people often turn to substances to avoid and numb the reality of their situation. These coping mechanisms exacerbate their financial problems and take a heavy toll on their health, contributing to rising rates of depression, anxiety, and even suicide. Buying the cow is often, quite literally, a death trap.
I recently heard a story about a person who was regularly contributing to his family to build a house. He had been doing this for months but when he got home there was not a single brick laid, and no materials bought either. To make matters worse, his family expected him to continue contributing. Now, you may find this absurd. But for many people – especially from collectivist cultures where one’s identity is deeply linked to the family or the community – this is an all-too-familiar tale.
Of course there is power, efficiency and real elegance in working as a collective. I know of many multigenerational homes where everyone contributes something to make the whole stronger. In a country faced with high levels of unemployment and severe poverty, operating as a collective is often a critical lifeline, where people would otherwise not be able to survive.
The challenge arises when others in the collective have unrealistic expectations that a single person must have all the answers and resources to solve the issues. That’s when the elegance of the collective begins to crack under pressure and we need to start having tough conversations around boundaries and expectations. Like any powerful force, when pushed to extremes or abused, it risks becoming its own opposite. Countless South Africans find themselves in this cultural vortex; the very thing meant to uplift and sustain is suffocating and eroding hope. Those of us in collectivist cultures must keep questioning and challenging how collectivism is practised, so that it remains a wellspring of life, rather than a drain of it.
But this is extremely challenging, precisely because these cultures by their very nature exist with fluid boundaries. If this is the way we have always done things, then challenging that culture is often a serious taboo and causes deep fear, anxiety and even shame and ostracism. In turn, these emotions cause us to shrink further from the hard conversations we need to be having. It’s a viscous cycle that is placing many South Africans at great risk from a mental, physical and financial health perspective.
Many people I work with in communities and organisations share how their partners expect them to cover everything financially and when they don’t, they fear being seen as less than. In addition, they too play into the role as it makes them feel like a provider and powerful. But this dynamic, where love and care are tied to material offerings, is transactional and toxic. And it’s fed by more than just personal expectations. Social media idealism, childhood conditioning, cultural roles, and unresolved trauma all feed into this cycle. We begin to equate love with sacrifice and worth with provision. And when it is done in the name of culture, it becomes almost impossible to question. But we must find ways to break these cycles. This must begin with having some hard conversations with care.
The first of these will be an honest conversation with ourselves, asking if helping others is hurting us; a frank acknowledgment that we aren’t coping and that the cost to us is simply too high.
We will need a tough conversation, or series of conversations, with our loved ones or colleagues. This can be counter-cultural, butoften it is not so much the content of the conversation but how it is said. Openly communicating our situation is important so that collectively we can re-evaluate and explore what is possible. I am usually surprised when I have these conversations. When people understand your limits, they often rise to support you. Maybe your partner starts contributing more, or household responsibilities are shared more evenly. You’re not stepping away from love or generosity. You’re stepping towards it but in a healthier way.
It may also be necessary to seek support from people we can trust; a therapist, a coach, a wise friend who has walked this road. People who can help us unpack the emotions and patterns driving our choices. Our own growth and healing in this area creates the opportunity for us to make healthier decisions around setting boundaries.
Not buying the cow will likely cause discomfort in the short term. But in the long run, it can save our health, restore peace and empower others to step up and become a critical part of making the whole stronger. It’s not about saying no forever. It’s about saying yes to yourself, so that when you do say yes to others, it comes from a place of strength and not depletion.
Taegan Devar is an Industrial Psychologist and the Managing Director of Organisational Development company PeopleSmart (www.peoplesmart.global)
PeopleSmart is an Organisational Development consultancy working across South Africa and the continent. The company focusses on leadership development, the design of self-sustaining wellness and safety programmes, Women in Mining, executive coaching, DEI and team building.
For more information contact info@peoplesmart.global.