Three decades of democracy have not alleviated the struggles of South Africa’s townships – the majority of them remain as dormitories of cheap labor.
How would you describe the significance of 30 years under democratic governance in South Africa? “Honestly, I think the situation just got worse than before,” says Daphne Malakwane, an elderly resident from a township south of Johannesburg.
Thirty years have passed since the end of apartheid and the meaning of democracy varies greatly across most South African townships. The legacies of the apartheid regime still perpetuate economic inequalities, evident in how spatial planning manifests in the majority of townships in Johannesburg.
The effects of apartheid segregation mean many people live far away from the greater economic hubs and township residents face hefty transport costs to access essential services like proper healthcare, quality education and employment opportunities. To access services, residents must spend money on transport to access affluent places in the cities and suburbs.
Increased numbers of unemployed youth in the township have resulted in a wave of drug addicts who have reverted to crime. Linganiso Sibabalwe, an Orange Farm resident, highlights how unsafe his neighborhood has become over the years. “Community members have learned to take matters into [their] own hands as far as the law is concerned: they no longer rely on the South African Police Services,” he says.
The birth of Johannesburg
The City of Johannesburg became the economic hub of South Africa long before the advent of apartheid. The discovery of gold in 1886 led to a gold rush that significantly affected the evolution of the city and surrounding regions, culminating in it becoming the dominant economic force in the country.
Johannesburg attracted a diverse population, drawn by the promise of wealth and economic opportunities, who shared common goals and coexisted harmoniously. However, the materialisation of apartheid in 1948 resulted in the enactment of oppressive and harsh policies mandating racial segregation and unequal laws that restricted where black, Indian and Coloured people were allowed to live and work.
Black people specifically were forcibly removed and relocated to areas known as Bantustans, which were exemplified by grim living conditions, insufficient infrastructure, and restricted access to essential services.
“The government had a name for the Bantustans back then: they used to label them as ‘labour reservoirs’. We were kept right next to the cities and mines so that we could wake up very early and go to work for the white man,” says Godfrey Baloyi, a long-time resident of Orange Farm.
International pressure and global condemnation resulted in economic sanctions and cultural boycotts against South Africa. Coupled with the internal resistance of freedom fighters, this led the government to eventually stop the unchecked brutality.
Apartheid’s racial segregation enforced rigid systems that institutionalised inequality, particularly in black communities. People living in Bantustans had restricted access to quality education, economic opportunities and quality healthcare.
With the introduction of democracy in 1994, the government aimed to restore the dignity of its people by expropriating farmland on the outskirts of the cities and converting it to township development. One of the earliest policies to promote this was the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) which was tasked with rolling out low-cost housing in townships.
This entrenched socioeconomic exclusion of the poorest South Africans, confining them to the fringes of the greater city. According to Neil Klung, a senior lecturer at the University of the Witwatersrand’s School of Architecture and Planning, the government’s plan was focused on the development of houses instead of the development of integrated settlements. The unintended consequence was the reinforcement of apartheid spatial-planning patterns, which have manifested today in townships such as Orange Farm. The latter is a township based in a semi-rural, underdeveloped area, located about 40km south of Johannesburg.
One of Orange Farm’s more income-generating streets, everything from transport to tomatoes is on sale. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Migration to Orange Farm
Orange Farm, which was established in 1989 by the former Transvaal Provincial Administration (TPA), grew to a population of more than 70 000 people by 1991. At this time the TPA, in an attempt to edge closer to black urbanisation had begun building low-cost brick houses that were offered for sale to the community. The TPA encountered significant challenges with this programme: key issues that surfaced included severe levels of poverty and unemployment, which meant buying these stands was out of reach for people migrating to Orange Farm.
Khosi Mnareng (65) a long-time Orange Farm resident, said that he lived in Pimville before he moved to his current location. Soweto was overpopulated and Mnareng felt compelled to move elsewhere if he were to provide for his family. He says: “We all came here for better economic opportunities and stable housing. Many of us got weary of being consistently displaced and relocated by the apartheid government – Orange Farm offered a sense of permanence during those times”.
But this is not the case for people who reside in Orange Farm today. When Mnareng first moved to Orange Farm, he worked on a farm to provide for his family. His wife Mary, who together with her husband, was standing in a lengthy queue waiting for their monthly pensioner’s grant, added that she came to Orange Farm because she had found a job as a domestic worker in white people’s farmhouses. She says, “At least we could resort to that as an option back then. Now that white flight has occurred, this place offers nothing in terms of economic prospects.”
Mnareng adds that the issues began when the RDP housing rolled out, which he alleges encouraged undocumented foreign nations to migrate to Orange Farm. Land designated for residential and subsidised housing projects was frequently occupied and informal settlements were constantly expanding. Mnareng alleges that the people responsible for rolling out the RDP houses were corrupt.
The current conditions of some RDP houses in Orange Farm. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Inadequate infrastructure and municipal neglect
In 2018, residents of Orange Farm complained to Parliament that undocumented foreign nationals were paying R6,000 bribes to government officials to secure their own RDP houses. As yet, these complaints have not been addressed by the government. Delays in housing allocations have led to squatter camps sprouting around the township, such as in extension 10, where residents live in makeshift shacks and draw their power directly from the nearby railway system.
Malakwane (64) from extension 3 in Orange Farm tells me that the municipality has cut off her water supply and she has not had electricity for the past five years. She cannot pay her water bills due to unemployment and a lack of financial support; she has not worked for the past 17 years. “We were told by the municipality that each household must pay a fee of R500 to resolve these issues, but to date nothing has changed,” she says. “As old as I am, I must make means of survival.”
Some residents in extension 3 have not had any electricity since covid-19. Due to extreme pressures exerted on transformers through drawing electricity illegally from the power grid, several of them blew up and residents were required by the municipality to pay a penalty per household. Community members resisted, raising concerns about being required to pay a penalty although most households do not have breadwinners.
Orange Farm has not managed to transform itself into its own economic base, largely because of housing issues and a lack of social capital. Sello Modise, a political activist, says that the issue of mass black urbanisation cannot be fully dealt with if residents of Orange Farm are still living in squatter camps.
According to a brief by Parliament’s research unit, Orange Farm is a dormitory town with inadequate fundamental services and impoverished road infrastructure, which hinders efficient basic services, such as public transport and healthcare.
The municipality has not created employment opportunities for its people. The shops in the Eyethu Orange Farm Mall employ local residents, but the number of jobs available has little effect in addressing the youth unemployment in the township.
Economic and employment challenges
The nearest clusters for commerce and economic opportunities are in Lenasia and Ennerdale. Linganiso Sibabalwe, a recent graduate from North-West University, shared his insights on how it has become all but impossible to job hunt while living in Orange Farm. “Even if you make it to the interview stages, it is most likely that you will get there very late because of the distance or issues with public transport,” he says.
Sibusiso Mema has been working at Africa Loans, a financial service provider in Eyethu Mall, for almost a year now. He says it has been convenient to work near his place of residence, since he can pay R12 to take a taxi to get to work, and emphasises that some of his peers are required to travel to Johannesburg each day. According to demographic statistics on Wikipedia, 85% of people who live in Orange Farm work in Johannesburg. They all travel by minibus taxis and buses, since trains ceased operation during covid-19 due to cable theft.
Research by former journalist and anti-apartheid activist Dr Thami Mazwai found that township commuters spend 90% of their salary in the greater city, which means that there is little money circulating in the townships themselves.
One of the crumbling businesses in extension three of Orange Farm, a hair salon owned by a resident. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Matshidiso Selepe currently works in the city of Johannesburg. She tells me she spends R84 each day to travel to and from work. She earns R6,500 a month and commutes to the city six days a week. She says, “I spend R1,680 monthly on transport alone. It is as if I am working for a taxi fare because I do not have enough money left for myself and my family. But somehow it is better than sitting at home without employment, especially here in Orange Farm where there are zero hopes of employment.”
The effects of marginalisation
The isolation and marginalisation of townships have led to higher levels of crime, unemployment, drug abuse, and illiteracy, and hinders social mobility, particularly among the youth. Crime levels have surged dramatically in Orange Farm. France Matshinye, a University of the Witwatersrand LLB student from Orange Farm commutes to Johannesburg. He says he avoids travelling very late at night in his neighborhood because of the potential violence.
The scarcity of recreational activities and deficient education systems are evident throughout the township. Themba Khumalo has lived at extension 3 of Orange Farm his whole life. He recently completed his matric and he is currently unemployed. Khumalo says the shortage of schooling facilities and unavailability of economic prospects in his area is a contributing factor to the youth idling in the streets. The idea of being landlocked in one area has created a space in which the aspirations of the young people are limited to what is within their reach. “They tend to look up to the gang members as aspirations because it is who they are exposed to daily,” Matshinye says.
Young unemployed street sweepers make an income from the people who drive on the road daily. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Local solutions for local problems
Despite the challenges faced by Orange Farm and its residents, the township’s population is mushrooming. Action needs to be taken to address the inequalities that exist in this community. Mr. Modise is in his early 40s and has recently enrolled for a politics degree at Unisa. He believes there is hope for Orange Farm and that the only people who can solve its problems are those who live there.
The local municipality says it is aware of the issues in Orange Farm, and has put initiatives in place to combat them.
When I ask Bongani Ndlovu, a community leader in Orange Farm, about such initiatives made to upscale the community’s economy, he mentions the concept of social capital and developing value chains, neither of which have been championed so far. According to Ndlovu, these two concepts have been a big challenge, particularly in a township as culturally divided as Orange Farm. He adds, “The initiatives have only been executed better in taverns, basically places which add no value to the youth.”
Despite being neglected by the municipality, many young people have taken matters into their own hands and informal businesses are sprouting up around Orange Farm. Ndlovu is running an initiative that seeks to strengthen existing businesses in his neighbourhood by hosting social markets where small businesses showcase their products to the community. “I believe that this is one of the ways local residents can create their own economy in Orange Farm,” he says.
A sprouted squatter camp in a township of Orange Farm – Local businesses here tend to crumble because of the lack of monetary circulation in the township. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
A mother and her young daughter walking to their container home in extension three of Orange Farm – Some of these people have not had electricity, proper sanitation, and running water ever since they moved here. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Improper housing infrastructure – Backrooms have overpopulated Orange Farm and to the residents, they serve as means of monthly income. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
An example of a transportation business – Like in the villages, most neighborhoods in Orange Farm still use horse carts as means of transportation, this is also rooted from the cultural presents of the Sotho people. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
One of households which draws electricity directly from the power grid – Shacks built next to railways have connected to the powerlines illegally, with electrical cables cut loosely, this signals danger to the young children. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
A sprouted shack without basic services such as water and electricity – These type of informal housing are circulated throughout the townships sub-locations. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
An example of Orange Farm’s income generating street – Local residents tend to leave their homes and open stalls next to the busiest roads of the townships to target people commuting daily. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
Pap and cow head fast-food business in extension three – Due to the unavailability of working and job opportunities, some people have been highly relying on their own businesses for quite sometime. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
A form of street vending vegetable stall in extension three – These kind of stalls provide basic like cooking supplies to the local residents since shopping centers are located too far from their neighborhoods. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
Conditions of the RDP houses in the township – Since construction in the 1990s, RDP houses are now breaking down, this is also due to lack of resources and the cheap material used during construction at that time. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
A Christian church which is continuously in operation every Sunday. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
Livestock grazed directly from neighborhood trees. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
Livestock feeding amongst many of present dumping sites. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
Young boys playing on top of high stones – The lack of infrastructure deprives the youth of access to parks and other recreational facilities, which ultimately leads to unpleasant dangerous situations. Photo: Salim Nkosi.
A homeless Orange Far resident picking up recyclable material to make ends meet – This is very common since there are countless illegal dumping sites in the township. Photo Salim Nkosi.
FEATURED IMAGE: A common informal business in Orange Farm townships. Photo: Salim Nkosi
The deregistration of Educor’s institutions has thrown the lives of countless students into chaos, forcing them to confront a grim future.
In an unprecedented and heart-wrenching move that left thousands of students reeling, the Department of Higher Education and Training (DHET) announced the deregistration of four institutions owned by Educor, South Africa’s largest private education provider.
The decision made public on March 22, 2024, via a government gazette by DHET’s Director-General Nkosinathi Sishi, has not only sent shockwaves through the education sector but also ignited a wave of anger and despair among those most affected—students and staff.
Educor, a behemoth in the private education industry, operates well-known institutions such as Damelin, CityVarsity, Icesa City Campus, and Lyceum College. But behind its expansive reach and polished facade, a storm was brewing—one that has now left thousands of students like Bongani Sibanda in dire straits.
Bongani Sibiya, stranded in Johannesburg with no way to return home to Rustenburg, faced the cold reality of eviction. “I couldn’t just go home without knowing what was happening with my studies,” he shared, frustration and desperation evident in his voice. His landlord, unsympathetic to his plight, showed no mercy. “I was evicted and ended up crashing at a friend’s place for a day,” Bongani recounted, a mixture of anger and helplessness colouring his words.
Over 60 campuses nationwide, once bustling with hopeful students, now stand as symbols of broken promises. Beneath the company’s expansive portfolio of ten educational brands lay a series of compliance failures that have now unraveled, leaving thousands in a precarious situation.
Kenny Diamond, a Damelin graduate, couldn’t hide his anger as he reflected on his time at the institution. “The decision to deregister should have come long ago,” he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Even though my qualification is recognized, the quality of teaching and learning was poor.” His words echoed the sentiments of many who had endured years of subpar education, only to see their worst fears realized.
The shockwaves of Educor’s downfall didn’t stop with the students. Staff members, who dedicated years to these institutions, now find themselves in similarly dire straits.
Ndumiso Mhlanga, an employee at one of the Educor colleges, described the dismal working conditions they endured. “It became the norm for us to receive our salaries very late—sometimes we were underpaid, or worse, not paid at all,” he revealed, his frustration palpable. “There was a lack of proper administrative support, and it felt like we were abandoned.”
These labour issues only add to the already complex and dire situation, highlighting the profound human cost of Educor’s failures. On November 22, 2023, the South African Federation of Trade Unions (SAFTU) issued a statement expressing deep concern over the treatment of staff, particularly at Damelin College. Delayed payments, unaddressed grievances, and unjust contract terminations painted a bleak picture of an institution on the brink.
The troubles for Educor began as early as 2020, when the DHET first noticed the group’s failure to submit its annual financial certificates and reports—a critical requirement for the continued registration of private education institutions.
Despite repeated warnings, including a stern reprimand in 2022, Educor failed to comply with these obligations. The gravity of the situation unraveled in July 2023 when the DHET issued a notice of cancellation of registration, giving Educor until September 26, 2023, to lodge an appeal.
In a bid to rectify the situation, Educor sought and was granted an extension until February 28, 2024. However, the group again failed to meet the deadline, leaving the DHET with no choice but to proceed with deregistration.
On March 26, 2024, during a media briefing, the former Minister of Higher Education and Training, Blade Nzimande, emphasized that the cancellation was not an abrupt decision but a consequence of ongoing non-compliance. Nzimande made it clear that the DHET had given Educor ample time to address the issues, but the group’s repeated failures left the department with no alternative and yet still requested another extension.
For students like Momosa Kopi, the aftermath has been a nightmare. Momosa, a student from Damelin’s correspondence college, was fortunate to be transferred to another institution that recognized her credits. But not everyone was so lucky. Many students pursuing a direct Damelin qualification found themselves at a dead end, their academic dreams shattered.
The sudden deregistration has profoundly impacted students, leaving them angry, confused, and uncertain about their future.
Educor was required to inform all enrolled students within 14 days of the cancellation notice and assist them in finding alternative institutions. But for students like Bongani Sibanda, these promises rang hollow.
Bongani Sibiya, a second-year student whose registration was cancelled, had often heard whispers that Educor colleges operated like fly-by-night institutions. Now, facing the harsh reality, his anger is palpable. “By the time I wanted to transfer, I thought about all the money I had spent and couldn’t bring myself to just let it all go,” he lamented.
Asive Dlanjwa, spokesperson for the SA Union of Students, clarified that students who obtained their qualifications from an institution during the period of accreditation should not be affected. He explained that if the institution was legally registered and offered certified and updated courses that met the requirements of the South African Qualifications Authority (SAQA), students who completed their qualifications within that timeframe should not face any issues.
In an interview with Wits Vuvuzela, Kutloano Umanji, a recent IT graduate, explained that despite the Department of Higher Education announcing the deregistration earlier this year, students who completed their courses in 2023 were surprisingly still allowed to graduate in May 2024.
Umanji revealed that among her peers whose studies were interrupted, none of those directly enrolled in Damelin courses were able to transfer their credits and continue their studies elsewhere. Some students unknowingly took non-accredited and outdated courses, only discovering this when they faced difficulties in transferring their credits. As she put it: “most of them started all over or changed to a new course”.
She reflected on her time at the institution, noting that it was not the best experience. She cited instances where they would randomly not have lecturers, leaving students without academic guidance. Moreover, she felt that the institution only addressed student concerns when they were pushed to do so.
Despite receiving his academic transcript, Bongani faced a major setback when he couldn’t transfer his credits to another college. Advised to either start a new course or find another institution offering the same qualification, he found the task nearly impossible. “I’ve decided to give my studies another chance in the 2025 academic year,” he shared, a mix of determination and frustration in his voice.
During the media briefing, the former minister of DHET highlighted that his department has in the past received numerous complaints from students against the Educor institutions.
Many of those issues till today remain unsolved. Sibiya told Wits Vuvuzela that he gave up on pursuing reimbursement for his fees because it was nearly impossible to follow up, even when the institutions were still operational.
The Department of Higher Education has also offered to assist students from Educor’s colleges in finding alternative institutions where they can continue and complete their qualifications.
FEATURED IMAGE: The four Educor brands that were deregistered by the Department of Higher Education and Training. Photo: Salim Nkosi
As the student representative council elections approach, what does it mean to serve as students’ primary and first line of defense?
In the heart of Wits University’s diverse student population, lies a vibrant student community that necessitates representation for each community to voice its distinct concerns and values.
As a statutory body under the Higher Education Act, the Student Representative Council (SRC) wields political, economic, and transformative power to shape student life, offering a wide range of services to both individual students and a variety of student groups.
The SRC’s influence reaches beyond campus, playing a key role in national student movements like #FeesMustFall, which highlighted the financial challenges of South African students on a global scale.
Issah Amiin, a first-year computer science student, said that while he understands the “roles and responsibilities of the SRC”, he is uncertain about the eligibility criteria and the nomination process for running as a Wits SRC candidate.
The SRC at Wits University is comprised of 22 members, each assigned to specific portfolio’s as outlined in the SRC Constitution. Of these, thirteen general representatives are elected by the students through a secret ballot, adhering to the Electoral Rules, while the remaining nine members represent various constituencies such as the All-Residence Sub-council (ARSC) and Post Graduate Association (PGA).
The responsibility of electing student organizations or individual candidates to the SRC, who represent student interests, falls to students currently registered at the university.
Simphiwe Mntungwa, Wits SRC deputy president, told Wits Vuvuzela that to be nominated as an SRC candidate by the Student Governing Office (SGO), you must be a full-time student in at least your second year, with a first-semester average of 60% for undergraduates and 65% for postgraduates.
The nomination also requires support from 25 students and a clean disciplinary record. He added that “First-year students are not eligible to run as candidates.” To understand this process and other essential functions of the SRC, a thorough reading of its constitution was done by Wits Vuvuzela.
At any given time during its tenure, the SRC holds a range of powers and responsibilities, including representing the student body on various university committees and external bodies, advocating student interests, and managing allocated funds according to financial rules. It has the authority to support student activities, oversee financial operations, and enforce discipline as delegated by the Vice-Chancellor.
As a student’s representative body, it is their duty to forge relationships with the broader community surrounding Wits, including the municipality, local police, non-profit organisations and more.
The Wits SRC faces challenges, including balancing diverse student needs, managing limited resources, and navigating university bureaucracy. They must also address emerging issues, like the recent mid-year exclusions on campus, which has raised significant concern and in instances when the university raises its fees, the SRC can challenge senate directly.
Additionally, it conducts meetings, initiates debate on student concerns and ensures proper administration of its functions. Essentially, they are responsible for ensuring the structures such as service department, Disability Rights Unit (DRU) and Counselling Careers and Development Unit (CCDU) are in place and that they are effective for students to be able to voice their needs and concerns.
But students know little to nothing about any of the above. Amazing Herold, a first-year biological sciences student said, “I don’t fully understand the SRC’s roles and responsibilities. I feel they haven’t communicated them clearly, and I’m unsure who is eligible to run as a Wits SRC candidate.”
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits SRC 2024 Elections. Photo: Salim Nkosi
In a tense atmosphere, the away team dominated Braamfontein Centre FC with a 7-0 victory in the Wits internal league.
On Monday, July 22, the Zulu Society FC started the second half of the season exquisitely by dominating Braamfontein Centre FC at Wits Sturrock Pack Stadium.
The game began with both sides pushing hard and applying pressure in each other’s defensive third.
However, just minutes into the first half, the tension was quickly broken when Zulu Society FC made their presence felt by effortlessly scoring their first three goals. This disrupted the opposition as players struggled to regain momentum and composure.
The first few minutes of the second half were openly contested. For a moment, it appeared as though Braamfontein Centre FC was poised to pull off an incredible turnaround.
But, despite generating multiple chances, their lack of structure and communication created space for Zulu Society FC to exploit gaps and ultimately left the home team vulnerable. The predictability of some goals exposed the Braamies’ defensive flaws.
The chants and cheers from the spectators showed unity, revealing that one team arrived at the game with a winning mindset. Each goal was celebrated as if the opponents might still fight back, but as the outcome became inevitable, the cheers grew quieter.
After the final whistle, Wandile Zulu, the Zulu Society FC coach, told Wits Vuvuzela that his team remained “focused” and “not complacent” in their approach to the game.
Zulu Society FC coach, Wandile Zulu briefs the squad about their overall performance just after the game ended. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Braamfontein Centre FC remains second to last in the league, with a record of eight games, seven losses, and one draw.
Nicholas Gudwana, the coach of Braamfontein Center FC, said: “I don’t want to say we performed poorly, but the team still needs to work very hard. This is a new team that was introduced last year, so we are in the process of building.”
As the dust settled after the match, Zulu Society FC climbed to 6th place in the first division of the Wits Internal Football League, while the home side continues to linger in the bottom half of the table.
FEATURED IMAGE: Braamfontein Centre FC restructuring its game plan during half time. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Students who fall behind with their academic work continue to suffer academic exclusion despite advocacy by the Wits Student Representative Council (SRC) to change the policy.
As the second semester began on Monday, July 15, some students received emails informing them of their exclusion due to failure to meet the conditions of their readmission. The policy of academic exclusion has been a point of contestation between student representatives and university officials for many years.
Just before 2024 first semester exams, students led by the SRC marched from the Great Hall to Senate House demanding a change in the policy. The Deputy Vice Chancellor, Ruksana Osman advised the SRC to consult with faculties before she could call for a Senate Teaching and Learning emergency meeting.
As students received exclusion emails on the first day of the second semester this week, the SRC issued a statement castigating university officials for excluding them from the meeting that decided the fate of students.
In response University Registrar, Carol Crosley, said the Senior Executive Team reviewed the SRC’s proposals on midyear exclusions during their meeting on July 16, 2024. After extensive discussions with the SRC, they agreed to consider the SRC’s proposal at the next Senate Teaching and Learning Committee meeting, where faculty-specific data on pass rates and cancellations is typically presented.
Meanwhile, affected students are frustrated.
Sphelele Maluleka, a second-year Bachelor of Education student, told Wits Vuvuzela that her difficulties began in 2023 when she lost a parent and had to miss her teaching practical for funeral arrangements. Although she was readmitted on the condition that she passes all modules in the 2024 mid-term exams, she struggled with new coursework and attendance due to ongoing family responsibilities. She added, “The situation is giving me sleepless nights given that I am the first in my family of 16 to go to university.”
Neliswa Mthembu, a second-year Bachelor of Education student, said, “This has to be the worst year of my life. I feel as if my overall performance was not considered at all”.
Crosley was at pains to explain that the policy is fair. She said, “It is important to note that these matters are handled individually based on each student’s circumstances, meaning that there is therefore no blanket solution that can be implemented”.
The SRC vowed to keep fighting against mid-year academic exclusion.
SRC Academic Office Subcommittee member Khutso Mahlaela told Wits Vuvuzela that the SRC Academic Office met with faculties on Wednesday, July 17, to renegotiate, expecting reduced numbers of excluded students by the end of this week.
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits student holding a mid-year exclusion caution sign. Photo: Siyanda Mthethwa
Growing up, most boys my age were obsessed with sports, gadgets and girls – I was obsessed with changing my family’s fortunes.
Growing up in a neighbourhood like Daveyton in Johannesburg’s East Rand, survival was a constant battle and dreams of graduating seemed like a far-fetched fantasy.
The sounds of gunshots, reverberating Kwaito and house beats were often my offbeat lullaby. The constant buzz of township life mirrored my internal thoughts, often filled with doubt, anxiety and hope.
Sharing the joy of graduation with the one who has been with me every step of the way. Photo: Simphiwe Mkheloe
I normally refer to myself as the son of a street vendor. My mother is an unemployed single woman who worked tirelessly to pave the way for my success.
The money she made from selling fruits, vegetables and snacks on the side of the road, was the first investment in my education. Education was a scarce commodity in our neighbourhood, yet she ingrained in me the belief that education holds the key to a better future.
I grew up in a small household and most of my weekdays were spent at Lekamoso Secondary School, while my weekends occasionally consisted of helping my mom with her vending business.
The corner at which my mother’s vending business is located showcases different role-plays of individuals: some are the product of the system, and others demonstrate how a life of bad choices can turn out. To me, all these scenarios served as life lessons that taught me which paths I do and do not wish to follow.
Despite learning about running a business from a young age, I ironically still grapple with impulsive spending habits. But, from dealing with difficult customers I learnt patience and humility.
My mother dreams of a day without having to wake up to endure the harsh weather conditions to provide for her family. I often look at her and remember all the promises I made to fulfill her dreams. It is inspiring that despite being in her fifties, she still believes success is possible, especially through me. Her words encourage me to pursue success relentlessly and with every fibre of my being.
One thing she has always advised me was to never compare myself with my peers. I have never felt like she was not enough as a parent just because she could not provide everything that I desired or everything that those around me had, she taught me to work for what I want.
My family and surroundings never laid the blueprint for success. For most, success and survival were synonymous, anything beyond that was seemingly impossible for someone like me.
On May 16, 2024, I walked across the North-West University stage to receive my first qualification, a BA in Communications degree. Looking into the hall from the stage, I could see her standing and waving at me and overcome with emotion. I will never forget how making her proud made me feel – it was an accomplishment weightier than the scroll in my hand.
Her tears during the ceremony and mine on the drive to university, reminded me of all the struggles we both went through for me to get where I am today.
I am proud to say that I am the first-generation graduate in my family, I am currently studying towards an honours degree and all of that is because of the strong and steadfast woman behind me.
FEATURED IMAGE: From corner stalls to university halls, my mom’s unwavering support has been the driving force behind my academic journey. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Fourteen days without electricity turned my academic ambitions into a harrowing experience.
On the night of May 1, 2024, Braamfontein turned pitch black, as a power outage plunged some parts of the inner city into darkness.
I was in the newsroom, situated at the E’skia Mphahlele building on Wits East Campus, writing a review of a theatre play I had watched. Living in a country where loadshedding and power interruptions have become the norm, I did not take the outage to mind, thinking the electricity would be restored in a couple of hours.
The next morning, Johannesburg City Power revealed that underground cables in the Braamfontein area had caught fire, due to suspected cable theft and vandalism. Knowing the city is overseeing the situation, I further relaxed, thinking the matter would be fixed swiftly, but that did not happen.
Since productivity was limited in my residence room, my daily routine changed dramatically — the library in Solomon Mahlangu House became my accommodation, where I rose early to charge my devices, eat, and do some coursework.
As a journalism student, I typically have one or two classes daily, allowing ample time for writing articles, research, and programme engagement. I spend most days on campus, occasionally returning to my residence to rest or prepare meals between classes.
By 10 o’clock in the evenings, I normally return to my room which is a walking distance from campus. I typically buy groceries and cook to save money.
As food prices have gone up due to inflation. I have resorted to only having one or two meals a day. I sometimes grab lunch provided by the Wits Citizen and Community Outreach (WCCO) programme but in most cases, this clashes with my classes, forcing me to improvise.
But on Saturday May 5, 2024, after a basketball game, I returned to find all my recently bought food spoiled in the fridge, just after I had stocked up for the whole month, a financial setback of note.
Due to only having borehole water at my residence as well as a scarcity of water when there are power outages, I then resorted to commuting to Wits Junction daily so that I could shower at my friend’s place before heading to class.
I felt hopeless and exhausted, unable to change my situation — fueling resentment for this place called Braamfontein. Without financial assistance or a food allowance, I had to dig deeper into my own pockets. I observed Darwinism firsthand as “survival of the fittest” unfolded in its ruthless and pragmatic manner.
This situation was a defining moment for me, the emotions I felt, made me look at things differently. Mainly, that challenges will come, but my resilience can see me through.
Finally, on May 13, 2024, the lights in Braamfontein flickered back to life after a long two weeks. Immediately when the lights came on, the joyous screams of students filled the air, and as if on cue, rain showers descend, bringing a sense of renewal amidst the chaos.
FEATURED IMAGE: Salim Nkosi Photo: File/Leon Sadiki
The story of Isiphosethu in Ungubani sheds light on the divine powers of ancestors, and the importance of knowing your roots as an African.
The play follows Isiphosethu, a rightful royal queen summoned home by destiny. Raised in Johannesburg, she is haunted by recurring ancestral dreams urging her to return to where her inkaba (umbilical cord) lies buried.
Aphelele Sidelo, a member of the cast and writer of the play says, “This play aims to remind people of the importance of intsomi as it was used by our grandparents to tell stories with the essence of moral teaching.”
The play took place at the Emakhaya Theatre atWits Art Museum) on April 29, 2024, in front of a jam packed audience.
The cast incorporated emotional traditional isiXhosa poetry, music, and intsomi (tales) into experimental theatre. The play opened with a powerful Isixhosa chant as Isiphosethu embarked on her journey to the longed-for village.
Isiphosethu starring at her aunt Nofesti in shock . Photo: Salim Nkosi
Despite not being familiar with the language, it was remarkable how the cast ensured that their message was effectively conveyed to the spectators through expressive body language.
Director and composer, Mandipumle Nokonya told to Wits Vuvuzela that “the language barrier was a major hurdle since some cast members weren’t Xhosa speakers. They trained extensively to preserve the play’s theme.” Watching, one would have assumed they were all native isiXhosa speakers, a testament to their talent and dedication.
In the play, Isizwe Samanqosi, a rural village in the Eastern Cape, is governed by the malevolent Queen Nofesti. She killed her sibling Nomadubazana, the rightful queen, and ordered her brother Zwelakhe to murder Nomadubazana’s newborn, Isiphosetthu.
Nofesti did not know that Isiphosethu was not killed and was taken to Johannesburg by her uncle. She was ruling the village against the will of the family’s ancestors.
Her use of vulgar and profane language, revealed the type of a person she was, which envoked feelings of resentment amongst those on stage in the audience alike. I saw her as an evil dictator, she showed the characteristics of a nowadays selfish politician.
Upon arriving in the village, Isiphosethu encounters her uncle and pivotal figures who guide her journey. Eventually, she attends a royal meeting called by Nofesti, where her identity is unveiled, unraveling her entire life story.
This was a cringe moment, the scene was chaotic and very emotional, and it revealed how greed and power can turn people against their loved ones. Signifying the pursuit of self-interest at the expense of others.
The village faced grave danger as Nofesti, an arrogant witch, disregarded the pleas of her people, using her powers to suppress opposition. This illustrates the consequences of undeserving authority.
Isiphosethu’s arrival rescued the villagers, leading to Nofesti’s downfall at the hands of the oppressed community. The rightful queen assumed her throne, and the play concluded with Queen Siphosethu’s marriage and the village rejoicing in their newfound freedom.
Isiphosethu getting proposed to. Photo: Salim Nkosi
The performance left an indelible mark, while the singing and clapping in the house were memorable, it’s the importance of feeling like you belong, a constant guiding light in life’s twists and turns that will stay with me.
Vuvu rating: 8/10
Featured image: The villagers of Isizwe Samanqosi grieving their struggles. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Expensive public transport leaves some students having to choose between eating regularly or catching another bus or taxi to campus.
It takes France Richia and Mfanelo Zandamela, two LLB students at Wits University over two hours and 90 kilometres to travel to campus daily.
On average, a student traveling from the townships around the Gauteng province to Braamfontein spends anything between R100 to R200 on public transport daily.
Richia and Zandamela travel from Orange Farm to campus, they said, “It gets scary when it’s dark given that we must walk all the way passing Mandela Bridge to Bree Street to catch a bus.”
Johannesburg is notorious for its crime, with the winter season around the corner, days are becoming shorter and darker, a concern for those with classes that end after 17:00.
Richia emphasized the issue of time management: “It is only recently that it has become my biggest challenge, this is because I must keep up with my studies while also making sure that I get enough rest, I have accustomed myself to waking up at 04:00 so that I can catch a bus which leaves at 05:30.”
Zandamela told Wits Vuvuzela that the long three hours spent traveling contribute heavily to his fatigue, his second biggest challenge is the financial constraints this has towards his parents. “In one week I spend an approximate amount of R500” on transport and other incidentals like food.
Both students have stopped buying lunch on campus to save money, they sometimes pack sandwiches or a cooked meal from the previous night.
To tackle their shared accommodation issue, they have both applied for Wits Hardship funding which aims to assist Wits students who need financial support.
Zandamela said “This is honestly my last hope,” living just 10 or 20 minutes away from campus would change his life and university experience drastically.
FEATURED IMAGE: Two LLB Wits students standing infront of the Physics building. Photo: Salim Nkosi. Photo: Salim Nkosi
Societal expectations and experiences can often place pressure on people’s relationships. With Valentine’s Day coming up we have asked individuals questions about their views on certain relationship dynamics especially when it comes to the most anticipated day of the year for some lovers, Valentines Day. Viewers shared their beliefs and Siyanda and Katlego talk about […]
