The weather was chilly, but this did little to dampen the vibrant Sunday evening at restaurants in the Bole neighbourhood. On a cold night a few weeks ago, Mikyas Tsegaye was warm and well-fed at Food Zone Restaurant. He seemed unbothered with the pricey dish of sautéed beef (shekla tibs) he had just finished, laying back and enjoying his beer. A wholesaler in Merkato, the 30-year old Mikyas can afford to lead a decent living, owing to his success in the clothing market. He inherited a family business with a daily turnover of around 70,000 Br eight years ago after cutting short his education at one of the public universities.

To an onlooker, the bright lights and loud music chiming out from the restaurants and hotels across the flashy streets of Addis Abeba may give the impression that times are good, that many people lead a decent living. But this view overshadows the flipside of the struggling residents having to win bread for the day. Partly, it is explained by the unprecedented growth of the capital's population. Like most metropolises globally, it is the outcome of a huge influx of rural migrants to Addis, attracted by its glitz and dreaming of making it in the big city, home to over four million people.

Bajin Danish came to Addis Abeba from Areka, a small town in Welayita Zone, 322Km south of the capital, almost a decade ago with dreams of landing a good job and building a comfortable life for himself. He had luck on his side, at first. Hired as a security guard at one of the many embassies in the capital, he began earning a monthly salary of 4,000 Br, which was more than enough to cover his expenses with some left to save.

Five years down the road, things changed. Drastically.

A family emergency forced him to be absent from work for over a week, costing him his job at the embassy. Though Bajin tried to persuade his employers, they did not budge, leaving him no choice but to look for another source of income.

“I had a decent life; three meals a day and saving money to start a business," said Bajin.

He became a shoe shiner, marking the end of a period, which for him, was decent. His wife does odd jobs, usually earning half the 200 Br daily income from shoe shining. The family tries to keep monthly savings after spending on rent and food expenses, but they barely do so. Bajin often misses meals when customers do not show up.

Paying huge bills one after the other is a common hallmark of urban life. This is more evident than ever now.

"It's like a vicious cycle where you immediately use what you've saved," says Bajin, longing for the days at the embassy when annual inflation was below eight percent.

Even for those having a job – whether formal or informal – the ability to cover basic expenses while still having disposable income and savings for dry seasons seems like an impossible feat. An economy tested by macroeconomic woes is not delivering much to the wider public, growing by two percent last year, according to the IMF. It is the slowest growth in over a decade, induced by COVID.

Notable growth in per capita income, however, which surpassed the 1,000 dollar mark last year, has been washed away by the fall in the purchasing power of the Birr. Inflationary pressure has further complicated the lives of the city's residents, creating uncertainty while leaving an indelible mark on their livelihoods. Against such a backdrop Bajin was leading a decent living, at least during the first half of his decade in the capital.

The conception of a "decent living" between Bajin and the businessman Mikyas may vary. Indeed, there is no universally accepted definition of what constitutes decent living. The United Nations defines it as something that enables workers and their families to meet basic needs.

Beyond consumption, saving is equally important for a decent living in mitigating unforeseen eventualities. But household saving is a constant struggle in an economy besieged by galloping inflation and an unceasingly depreciating currency. The inflation rate reached a decade high last month, with headline inflation hitting at 26.5pc, a 10-year average. Food inflation registered at a staggering 32pc during the same period.

It is no surprise that food makes up 30pc of household expenses for the residents of Addis Abeba. Teff is traded for 5,000 Br a quintal, a 2,000 Br increase in just two years.  Another staple, Berbere, costs 500 Br a kilogram, twice the price two and half years ago. The same is true for basic food items, particularly edible oil, which saw prices rise by almost a third in just a year.

Rent is another big item on the list of household expenses, with its share from the total income of households reaching as high as 40pc. It can cost as much as 4,000 Br a month to rent a nine square metre room in the capital, though prices differ widely based on location. With expenses for utilities and other related necessities accounting for the remainder of residents' income, individuals like Mikiyas see having a 25,000 Br budget as the absolute minimum to lead a decent living in Addis.

However, professionals like Getu Million, a branch manager for the Bank of Abyssinia in Addis Abeba, who earns 10 times more than Bajin's "decent living" while working at the embassy, feel a sense of frustration they can do little more than cover their daily expenses.