Joblessness, food luxuries, and daily sacrifices: Inside the lives of Egyptian families navigating Egypt's inflation surge

Every morning, Zainab Mohamed, 50, wakes at dawn in her home in Giza — not to rest before her day begins, but to cook.

By 7 am, she has already prepared trays of rice, vegetables, and chicken stew, packing them into plastic containers. Her customers — university students, single workers, and the occasional elderly neighbour — rely on her meals. They are priced just low enough to compete with fast food, but they carry the comforting taste of a home-cooked meal.

For Zainab, she never imagined that she would be feeding half the neighbourhood just to keep her own family going.

“My youngest son is in college. My daughter is studying dentistry,” she tells The New Arab. “After my husband’s illness, we had no choice. I turned my kitchen into our income.”

Like millions of Egyptians, Zainab has been quietly adjusting to a financial reality that feels both sudden and endless.

Egypt’s economic crisis is not just measured in currency values or inflation rates — it’s etched into the daily compromises of families like Zainab’s: switching from chicken to lentils, walking instead of commuting, and pulling children out of private lessons.

While official figures showed inflation easing in early 2024, the psychological weight has not improved.

In recent years, Egypt’s economic crisis has worsened, driven by inflation, the devaluation of the Egyptian pound, and a sharp rise in the cost of basic living.

As of 2023, Egypt’s inflation rate hit an alarming 30%, significantly affecting prices for food and essential goods. Items such as bread, sugar, and cooking oil — once considered staples for low-income families — have now become luxuries for many.

This inflation surge came alongside a steep depreciation of the Egyptian pound against the dollar, which has dropped by over 50% since 2021. This collapse in currency value has slashed the purchasing power of everyday Egyptians and increased the cost of imports, further inflating prices for essentials like fuel and medicine.

For Mariam Adel, a 24-year-old journalism graduate, the dream of working in a newsroom has been replaced by the struggle to keep up with rising bills.

“I applied everywhere, but salaries in media are low — if you even get a call back,” she says.

Now, she works nine hours at a call centre and spends her evenings transcribing videos for YouTubers abroad. The money isn’t great, but it keeps the Wi-Fi on.

“Sometimes, I feel like I live to pay for transportation,” she laughs, noting that her rent has doubled in the past two years and that she’s given up on moving out of her parents’ flat in Shubra. “I don’t go out. I haven’t bought clothes in over a year. I just work.”

Erosion of confidence 

At present, the employment landscape remains bleak. Egypt’s unemployment rate stood at 7.4% in 2023, according to CAPMAS, and continues to rise as the private sector struggles to cope with mounting economic pressures.

Young Egyptians, in particular, face a job market with limited opportunities, forcing many to take up multiple jobs in informal sectors or freelance work just to survive.

According to Dr Sherin El-Sayed, a professor of economics at the American University in Cairo, the crisis has triggered what she calls “a silent restructuring of middle-class life.”

“People are not just spending less — they’re redefining what a decent life means,” she explains to The New Arab.

As she describes, many Egyptians are now delaying marriage, giving up on private education, or moving back in with family.

She says, “It’s not just about inflation. It’s about erosion of confidence in future stability.”

In saying this, she notes that between 2022 and 2024, the steep fall of the Egyptian pound, along with rising prices for housing and transport, has put pressure even on people who were once financially stable.

“This crisis has no clear end date. That’s what makes it different,” Dr Sherin notes. “People are adapting long-term, not just waiting it out.”

Learning to adapt 

In the port city of Alexandria, the reality is just as bad. Down a small alleyway, 61-year-old Abdelrahman Fathy runs a tiny stationery kiosk that barely brings in enough for his evening tea.

He once stocked a variety of imported pens and art supplies. Now, even basic notebooks have become too expensive for many of his regular customers.

“I’ve stopped ordering anything new,” he says. “Most days, I just open the shop to keep my mind busy. My son sends a bit from the Gulf — otherwise I couldn’t survive.”

Unable to afford meat, Abdelrahman has switched to burning wood in a clay stove after his gas bill doubled. Yet, he refuses to close the kiosk.

“As long as I can open my door, I’ll open the shop,” he says. “Work gives me dignity. That’s all I have left.”

While many young Egyptians seek ways to juggle multiple jobs or launch small businesses, older generations like Abdelrahman’s have quietly adjusted to a more austere lifestyle.

His decision to keep the shop running, even at a loss, speaks volumes about the resilience of Egypt’s older generation.

“I used to travel for holidays. Now, I just stay home and watch TV,” he adds. “But I’m not giving up. I’m still here, still working.”

This resilience, Dr Sherin explains, is an essential part of Egyptian society’s response to economic hardship.

“The psychological adaptation is just as important as the economic one,” she says. “People are learning how to live with less, but the emotional toll isn’t being talked about enough. The idea of personal dignity is still at the core of how Egyptians cope with crisis.”

As inflation continues to threaten livelihoods and futures, Egypt’s economic landscape grows even more complex. The youth are adopting new work models, sometimes abandoning traditional career dreams altogether. Meanwhile, older Egyptians like Abdelrahman are holding onto jobs and routines that give them a sense of purpose.

But what’s clear is that survival in Egypt is no longer just about securing the next meal or paying the rent. It’s about sustaining one’s dignity in the face of a crisis that feels endless.

And for many, like Zainab, Mariam, and Abdelrahman, this form of resistance — the daily hustle — is not only how they survive, but how they reclaim their humanity in a world of rising prices and shifting dreams.

Maryam Raafat is an Egyptian journalist who has been writing about cultural and social issues since 2009 for local and international outlets, including the Egyptian Gazette and Xinhua

Follow her on X: @Maryam28853298