Students at Wits University stood shoulder to shoulder in widespread peaceful protest this week, following an allegation of rape on campus, initially shared on social media. In response to protests that spilt out onto the streets of Braamfontein, the university suspended a member of the student representative council (SRC).
In a statement issued on November 11, the university said: “The alleged perpetrator has been put on precautionary suspension whilst the matter is being investigated. We encourage all students to abide by the University’s rules and allow the University’s process to take its course.”
In public statements, the Wits SRC named and distanced themselves from the alleged rapist, and reaffirmed an “unwavering stance against all forms of gender-based violence and sexual exploitation”. They also made a plea for formal cases to be laid with university structures.
Students gathered outside of a South Point residence in Braamfontein. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
South Africa currently finds itself at a critical point in conversations surrounding GBV, with movements like Women For Change calling for a nationwide shutdown on November 21, 2025. This, after the movement’s bid to declare GBV a national crisis was rejected.
At Wits, previous cases have sparked protests such as #EndRapeCulture, leading to policy reforms including the establishment of the Gender Equity Office (GEO). Yet, with student surveys showing that 62% of students have experienced some form of GBV, activists say there is still a long way to go.
The university encouraged students to report cases of GBV to the gender equity office “in-person or via this link: GEO Reporting Tool.”
A GBV mass meeting will be hosted by the SRC on November 13 at 10:00 at the Great Hall, in an effort to support other survivors and stand in solidarity with anti-GBV efforts.
As the investigation unfolds, the Wits community and South African students at large are once again faced with a painful question: how many more women must suffer before justice becomes the norm, not the exception?
Emergency telephonic counselling can be accessed via the Wits Students’ Crisis Line on 0800 111 331. This line is available to all Wits students 24/7/365. The Wits Student Crisis App is also available for students who prefer live chat or text counselling, or contact CCDU for assistance.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of wits students gathere in the persuit for justice by Liyabona baartman
Despite tuition appearing cheaper on paper, Wits students from financially disadvantaged households still grapple with mounting debt and the hidden costs of higher education.
Wits students face growing debt and hidden expenses that make higher education increasingly unaffordable despite seemingly low tuition costs.
Universities struggle with declining government subsidies, inflation-driven expenses, and financial strain, forcing them to raise student fees to survive.
NSFAS funding limits and inconsistent policies deepen student inequality, threatening to reverse the hard-won progress of the Fees Must Fall movement.
When Medupi Reginald Mathunyane, a final-year Biological Sciences student at Wits University, was defunded by the National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) in 2022, the weight of uncertainty hit him hard. Months of appeals followed, each one a battle against bureaucracy and mounting financial anxiety. Today, as he nears graduation, his debt exceeds R100,000, growing every semester.
“I’ve done everything I can just to stay in class,” Mathunyane says, his voice carrying both determination and exhaustion. “But the stress of thinking about how I’ll pay back this debt never goes away. It’s like carrying a shadow over my studies, reminding me I might not make it through without sacrificing my dedication to my studies, with the hope that someday I will be funded.”
Mathunyane’s story is not unique. Across South Africa, students from financially disadvantaged households are feeling the squeeze. Yet on paper, higher education appears more affordable than ever. Professor Imraan Valodia, a former Wits University dean and respected economist, explains that comparing tuition fees over time without accounting for inflation gives a misleading picture.
“Degrees are not entirely more expensive,” he says. “If you take R60,000 in 2010, it would be roughly equivalent to R125,000 in 2025 when we adjust for inflation. By that measure, a R100,000 degree today is technically cheaper.”
But Valodia stresses that these numbers mask the lived reality for students. Over the past 15 years, South Africa’s consumer price index has averaged around 5% per year, while the higher education CPI (which tracks costs specific to universities such as equipment, laboratory maintenance and academic resources) has risen even faster. This means that even if tuition has not increased as sharply in nominal terms, the cost of delivering quality education has, leaving institutions and students caught in a financial tug-of-war.
At the heart of the affordability debate lies South Africa’s strained public finances. For years, sluggish GDP growth has constrained government revenue, leaving the Treasury with difficult choices between competing priorities: healthcare, social protection, infrastructure, and education all vie for the same shrinking fiscal pie.
The 2025/26 Budget allocated R146.6 billion to post-school education and training, about 5.7% of the total R2.58 trillion consolidated budget. Debt-service costs alone consume nearly R426.3 billion, almost three times higher.
The numbers reflect the impossible trade-offs. South Africa spends generously on education in global terms, at about 6.1% of GDP compared to the global average of 4.4%, yet this has not translated into affordability for individual students. Much of the spending goes to maintaining an already burdened system rather than making degrees cheaper at the point of entry.
Wits spokesperson Sherona Patel highlights the pressures universities face, which often go unseen.
“The University generally receives its income from three sources: state subsidies, student fees, and third-stream income such as donations or contract research,” Patel explains. “If subsidies decline in real terms, then student fees increase. Surpluses are reinvested into the academic project to ensure sustainability for future generations.”
Patel points out that the higher education inflation rate often outpaces general inflation. Specialized laboratory equipment, international journal subscriptions, and research costs are usually denominated in foreign currency, leaving universities vulnerable to exchange rate fluctuations. On top of this, Wits must cover additional domestic expenses, including diesel and water tankers during load shedding and water shedding, private security around Braamfontein, and inter-campus transport.
Despite these pressures, Patel notes that Wits allocated R2.33 billion in financial aid, bursaries, and scholarships in 2024, helping over 30,000 students access higher education. Historic debt totalling R63 million was cleared for nearly 800 students. Even with these efforts, Patel admits that the University cannot cover all student costs without risking insolvency. “Free education and debt clearance require national solutions involving government, the private sector, and donors,” she says.
Even the National Student Financial Aid Scheme, meant to be a buffer against financial exclusion, has struggled to keep pace with rising costs. In February 2025, the scheme announced a 4% increase in allowances for university students and a massive 46% increase for those in TVET collegesto cushion the blow of inflation. Yet students argue that these increases barely scratch the surface in cities like Johannesburg, where rent and transport costs quickly erode monthly stipends. NSFAS itself acknowledged the pressure, stating that “where necessary, NSFAS will take extraordinary measures to ensure that NSFAS-funded students are not left stranded due to skyrocketing accommodation costs.”
For the Wits SRC Treasurer General, Liyabona Baartman, the statistics do little to soften the financial reality facing students.
“The financial barrier is tuition and accommodation together,” he says. “Take someone studying medicine at UKZN and someone doing the same at Wits. The UKZN student pays less. Yet NSFAS applies the same funding formula across the country. That does not make sense. Living in Johannesburg is more expensive than living in KZN. NSFAS needs a case-by-case approach.”
Baartman also warns that the gains of the Fees Must Fall movement are being undermined.
“Before Fees Must Fall, NSFAS was a loan. We fought tooth and nail to turn it into a bursary. That was a major gain. But now, those gains are being reversed. NSFAS used to pay the full cost of accommodation. Now there’s a cap, leaving students stranded. The inconsistency in challenging the system has allowed these rollbacks to happen.”
For Mathunyane, the numbers are not abstract. They are lived experiences: long nights balancing part-time work and studies, the constant worry of falling behind, and the persistent anxiety that debt may derail his dreams.
“I’ve survived this far,” he says. “But I don’t know what will happen after I graduate. The debt does not go away. It feels like the system is built to make you survive, not thrive.”
At the heart of the debate is a national question: who should bear the cost of higher education? Families already grappling with unemployment and inflation feel the pinch. Universities warn they cannot fund every student without collapsing. Students insist that education is a right, not a privilege reserved for the middle class.
As Patel explains, “Student funding is a national challenge and requires broader discussions and solutions.” Baartman counters, “We cannot let the gains of Fees Must Fall be rolled back. Free education is still the goal.”
Until these tensions are resolved, higher education remains both a lifeline and a financial cliff, cheaper on paper, yet still impossible for those who need it most.
FEATURED IMAGE: Graphic of Wits University the stock market prices Going up to and logos by Phenyo Selinda
The red berets take the win in a clean sweep, shaking up student politics once again.
In a resounding victory, the Economic Freedom Fighters Youth Command (EFFYC) at Wits University secured all 13 directly elected seats in the Student Representative Council (SRC) elections for the 2025/26 term.
The results, announced on Tuesday, September 23, 2025, reflect strong, sustained support for the EFFYCs agenda on campus, which includes issues like fees, safety, and equality. Voter turnout stood at 31.15%, representing just over a third of the student population.
As South Africa celebrated Heritage Day, the outcome underscored the role of youth politics in shaping a more equitable future. The EFF’s emphasis on radical transformation resonated deeply among the Wits student electorate.
Newly elected SRC member, Sonwabo Mhlahlo said: “What we are looking forward to as the new Wits SRC is to deliver students to the promise land as many of them have confidence in us and more also to leave no student behind for the incoming academic year.”
Thuto Hleza added: “There are prominent challenges of exclusion specifically in our institution during the registration period for first years and returning student and the EFFYC is a powerful organisation we are determined to go to the ground as we have never failed because students believe in us if there is no solution then I’m afraid we are prepared to kiss the Boer and kiss the farmer.”
The clean sweep grants the EFF Youth Command full control over the SRC’s directly elected positions.
EFF leader Julius Malema reacted to the results on social media, in a post, he said: “Let’s congratulate our 13 2025/26 SRC Elect. These are the individuals you have trusted to represent you in the next academic year.”
The election results were shared in a live stream by Wits University, drawing cheers from EFF supporters. The 13 winners, all in bright red shirts, include a mix of fresh faces ready to lead. They are:
Thuto Hleza
Antonett Khoza
Godknows Maswanganye
Musa Mavuso
Sonwabo Mhlahlo
Mathatsi Mosima
Gilbert Nchabeleng
Sibusiso Ngeele
Thapelo Nkoana
Aphelele Qwabi
Nsovo Sondlani
Vuyi Twala
Mandulo Xaba
These leaders will serve for the 2025/26 term, working on student welfare, academic rights, and campus safety. The EFF Youth Command’s strong showing follows their win in 2023, where they grabbed eight out of 13 seats. This time, they went all the way.
WIts SRC Elected Candidates Graphic by Wits Elections
Wits Voter turnout Graphic by Wits Elections
FEATURED IMAGE: Graphic of the Wits SRC newly elected candidates. Graphic: Phenyo Selinda
A Newcastle dreamer turned Braamfontein car guard, Sabelo, reveals the unseen struggles and quiet courage behind Johannesburg’s informal guardians of the street.
It’s a Tuesday afternoon, and the streets of Braamfontein are pulsing with the energy of students rushing between lectures, taxis weaving through narrow lanes, and street vendors hawking everything from vetkoek to sunglasses. Standing at the entrance of the Wits Art Museum, reflector vest draped over his shoulders, is Sabelo. His eyes dart between moving cars and distracted pedestrians, scanning the small piece of asphalt he calls his “office.”
“I wanted to be in the media,” he says with a wistful smile. “But life happened.”
Sabelo is 32 years old, originally from Newcastle, KwaZulu-Natal. After matriculating in 2015, he spent years unemployed, battling the growing despair that grips so many young South Africans. “I couldn’t just sit at home and starve,” he explains. To survive, he took a job in a fruit and vegetable shop run by an Indian family in his hometown. It kept food on the table, but his dreams of studying and building a career in the media slipped further away.
In 2020, with little more than determination and a change of clothes, he boarded a taxi to Johannesburg. Like thousands of others, he believed the City of Gold might hold opportunities Newcastle could not. So, he found himself in Braamfontein, hustling as a car guard.
For most Wits students and lecturers, car guards are part of the urban wallpaper. They whistle directions into tight parking spots, wave cheerfully as you drive off, and wait for loose change in return. Wits Vuvuzela asked who these men are and how they survive.
Car gaurd, Sabelo Hadebe, outside the Wits Art Museum. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
In Gauteng, South Africa’s economic hub, car guarding has become both widespread and precarious. A 2015 Tshwane survey of 144 car guards revealed that most earned between R51 and R150 per day,barely enough to cover basic needs, let alone support a household. “Sometimes R50 is all I go home with, and I have to survive on that with the hope someone will give me something,” he said.
Many, like Sabelo, hail from other provinces, drawn to the city’s promise but caught in its unforgiving reality. Studies found that across South Africa, average daily earnings for car guards range from R32 to R350, depending on location, with most shifts lasting around nine hours.
However, these numbers don’t tell the full story. Car guards often pay daily “bay fees” of R20–50 to mall managers or agencies, along with the cost of reflector vests or radios. In practice, much of their income is clawed back before they even start their shift.
As the sun dips, Braamfontein becomes unpredictable. Students leave classes late, and nightlife starts to stir. For Sabelo, danger takes on many forms. He recalls an incident where a man offered him cash to step aside and leave cars unguarded.
“He wanted me to walk away,” Sabelo says, shaking his head. “But I refused. People trusted me to watch their cars. I couldn’t take the money and betray that.” That moment captures his philosophy: being a car guard is not just about collecting coins, it is about honouring the trust of strangers.
“Sometimes I’m the only barrier that’s standing between the car and a criminal,” he explains. “This work becomes dangerous, especially at night.”
Sabelo Hadebe directing cars in Braamfontein. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
Beyond the numbers, Sabelo’s life illustrates the humanity behind this informal sector. He doesn’t describe himself as merely earning money. For him, the role carries a sense of duty. “If someone comes back to their car and it’s safe, that’s when I know I’ve done my job,” he says
He takes pride in that trust. The irony is that despite his invisible labour and hours of watchfulness on the street, Wits people rarely acknowledge him. Yet in his own words, “Sometimes I feel like I’m the security that people didn’t know they had.”
As streetlights flicker on in Braamfontein, the Wits Art Museum glows softly in the dark, a beacon of culture and ideas. Outside, Sabelo pulls his jacket tight, bracing for another night. His story reflects the contradictions of Johannesburg: a place of possibility and despair, of dreams deferred and hustles embraced.
For Wits students and lecturers who pass him daily, he is both familiar and invisible. But behind the reflector vest is a guardian, a dreamer, and a survivor who reminds us that the city’s heart beats not only in its classrooms and offices, but also on its streets.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of Sabelo Hadebe directing cars in braamfontein by Phenyo Selinda
Young South Africans consider the intersections of freedom, art, and activism as a ‘new freedom’ is envisioned.
Thirty-one years into democracy, the question of what freedom truly means remains at the heart of South Africa’s national dialogue. On Thursday, June 26, the Nelson Mandela Foundation provided a space of reflection, resistance, and reimagining as young people from across the country gathered under the theme Born Free but Still Not Bound: Redefining Freedom for South African Youth.
June, known as Youth Month, honours the historic 1976 student uprising and continues to carry the weight of memory. But as many young people shared, the legacy of freedom is still unevenly felt. South Africa remains the most unequal country in the world, with economic hardships and social instability disproportionately affecting the youth.
Quoting her father, Amahle Invelo Jaxa, a passionate social activist, said being “legally free but economically excluded is no better than being in chains”.
Photo of the Dr Naledi Pandor at the podium on Thursday, June 26, 2025. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
“Yes, we are free to speak our minds, but who listens when unemployment is almost at 45%… when 60% of them have never had a job?” She stressed that memory must be a form of resistance. “An idea, unlike walls, cannot be locked down… As young people, we cannot afford to inherit struggle passively but must repurpose it to fuel our ideas and our art.”
Attendee, Marievonne Daya added: “Freedom cannot be measured just by the fall of apartheid alone; it must be stated in every day of our lives.” She mapped out today’s youth challenges of unemployment, crime, substance abuse, and mental health, and called on her peers to carry forward the unfinished struggle of 1976 for a better standard of living.
“Apartheid is a crude, sophisticated system of social engineering,” she said, drawing a comparison to Israel’s ongoing treatment of Palestinians. “The struggle and concept of resistance were enriched through young people’s leadership,” she added, naming icons like Solomon Mahlangu, Steve Biko, and Hector Pieterson. “If we don’t think of the rhetoric of what society we are trying to form, then we are building a dangerous society.”
Programme director and advocacy coordinator at the foundation, Nomahlozi Ramhloki, closed the event with a powerful reminder, “The thing about freedom in 1994 is that the work was only beginning,” she said. It would be a betrayal if we inherited a democracy and did nothing with it.
What unfolded at the Nelson Mandela Foundation was far more than a panel discussion. It lit a spark for the collective reawakening of young South Africans to boldly imagine a future where freedom is a lived experience.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of the Nelson Mandela Foundation logo
Wits students may be at risk as non-students reportedly gain access to campus through university buses, exposing a security loophole in campus security.
A growing security loophole in the Wits bus system could endanger thousands of students who use it.
Over 30 non-registered students removed from buses in recent weeks.
Wits CPS is actively working on long-term solutions to close the loophole and restore full safety for all students and staff.
Inter-campus buses are meant to be a safe and convenient way for Witises to get around daily, but lax security controls have raised concerns about access and safety.
Despite millions spent on biometric security systems at access points across campuses, unauthorised individuals have reportedly entered Wits `University premises through the buses.
Sylvan Guingohn, Crime Prevention & Liaison Manager at Wits Campus Protection Services (CPS), confirmed “approximately 35 individuals who were not registered Wits students were removed from buses in recent weeks.”
This has sparked alarm among students, particularly as these buses travel between five Wits campuses and two public stops outside campus to load and offload students, including Rosebank mall on weekends.
“It’s rare to find a security guard on the bus,” said Mpho Mphateng, a second-year Bachelor of Education student. “Mostly, it’s just the driver. It would be best if someone was there to check our student cards all the time. We don’t completely feel safe.”
Campus Protection Services acknowledges the concern. Mr John Sibisi, Deputy Director of CPS, responded to questions by noting that officers are sometimes deployed to buses, but not consistently.
“CPS conducts random deployments of officers on buses informed by crime and incident trends. While we may not always have officers in every bus, our strategy is always guided by current security risks,” said Sibisi.
He further confirmed that CPS is actively working with service providers to implement a permanent access control system that will ensure only authorised students can use the bus service. However, this solution may take time to roll out.
“Meanwhile, we continue to run safety awareness campaigns via house committee meetings, libraries, and VOW FM to sensitise students about safety precautions,” Sibisi added.
Wits CPS has urged students to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to their 24-hour control room at 011 717 4444 / 6666, or directly to security staff on campus.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of a Wits Bus. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
When power stops fearing protest, silence wins. This is a wake-up call on how South Africa’s loudest weapon is being disarmed.
Democratic South Africa was born through struggle. Its foundations were laid not in conference rooms, but in the streets carved out by those who refused to be silent. From the 1976 protest against the government’s policy of using Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in schools for Black students to the 1994 apartheid conquerors who got the first taste of freedom, the story of this nation has always been written in protest.
We protested against apartheid. We protested against economic exclusion. We protested for transformation in our schools and our institutions. In each case, protest was the only language those in power could not ignore.
We are a people who know those in power only listen when they are threatened, often violently. And it has been the history of our country’s leaders who respond not to the polite murmur of petitions but to the thunder of marching feet and tires burning.
But what happens when even that language starts to lose its meaning?
Protests have become more frequent and more urgent, yet they are ignored. Communities rise to demand water, electricity, housing and dignity, and yet these demands are met with the same routine: a visit from officials, a statement to the media, and a fake promise of “investigations”. Then, silence.
These issues persist, the cycle continues, and people begin to feel that speaking out changes nothing.
We can all remember the protest of 1976 when young people confronted the might of the apartheid state with nothing but conviction and clarity. They stood together because they believed in the power of their collective voice.
More recently, #FeesMustFall reminded us that protesting could still unsettle the powerful, but even then, the demand for free, decolonised education was diluted, redirected, and largely ignored.
I think the problem today is that the protest itself is being neutralised. Institutions have learnt to co-opt movements, to divide people, and offer symbolic gestures while preserving the status quo by either suspending, expelling or even criminalising protest action. A meeting here and there, tools to manage dissent without ever dealing with the problem.
Along with the above, the rise of individualism has made people easier to divide. In the age of likes, followers, and branded activism, the collective power that once drove our revolutions is fast fading.
We are now in a period where movements become moments and action becomes content. And real transformation is replaced by representation without change.
Institutions, both political and academic, have learnt to exploit this. They divide and conquer, selecting a few voices to ‘engage’, elevating individuals while ignoring the masses. In doing so, they extinguish the flame of the collective, turning urgent demands into manageable noise.
This is how protest dies, not with suppression, but with performance. Not with silence, but with strategic listening.
The tragedy is that we are living in a time when protest is needed more than ever. Economic inequality continues unabated. Corruption is a daily headline. Basic services have collapsed in many communities. And yet, when people rise, their voices bounce off a system trained to survive outrage.
We must remember that protest is not a problem. It is a pulse. It tells us when a democracy is in distress. To dismiss or defang a protest is to allow injustice to deepen in silence.
The choice is simple: either we rebuild the collective strength that once brought down giants, or we continue to shout into the wind while power pretends to listen.
The second block is in full swing, but an estimated 100 Wits students still don’t have a place to sleep.
Libraries, bathrooms and the streets are some of the places homeless Witsies scramble to find shelter in every night
The university lacks sufficient beds to meet demand, especially after a spike in first-year admissions.
Wits is offering food and emergency accommodation support, but sustainable solutions require broader systemic change.
The right to human dignity and adequate housing are enshrined in the South African constitution, but for some 100 homeless Wits University students, they remain a distant reality.
The university only accommodates a fraction of its student population. Of 37,295 registered students, including 25,200 undergraduates and 12,098 postgraduates, Wits has just 5,700 beds available across its 15 on-campus residences spread around Braamfontein.
Many students, especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds or without bursary support, feel abandoned by a system that seems to be failing them.
One affected student, Monkopane Mokgalabong, is a first-year geology student from Tzaneen, Limpopo, who revealed just how dire the situation has become.
“I’ve been sleeping in a security guard’s office near Charlotte Maxeke because I had nowhere else to go,” he told Wits Vuvuzela. “Sleeping outside wasn’t an option. I even had to beg the residence manager for help, but nothing came through.”
Defunded by NSFAS due to academic failure at a previous institution, Monkopane says he was shocked he could even register this year. “My luggage was too much to go back home, and I come from a disadvantaged background. Wits was always my dream university,” he said.
Deputy President of the Wits SRC, Boipelo Setsepu said: “We started engaging with management on this last year. They are aware of the issues, but our demands haven’t been met. We’ll have confidence in management if they finally come to the table and meet us halfway.”
Setsepu confirmed the depth of the housing problem, particularly for returning students and postgraduates. “At the start of the year, there was an oversubscription of first-year students. That alone created a deficit of beds for returning students; we have about 78 spaces left, mostly for male students under 24.”
Wits communication officer, Tiisang Monatisa said: “It is estimated that there may be over 100 students in need of accommodation… More than 450 students have been supported through the Wits Hardship Fund, and we expect to assist about 800 by the end of the year.”
To address the crisis, Wits launched the Transitional Accommodation Programme, backed by a R10 million allocation. “This year alone, 333 beds were acquired. The programme continues to support students as vacancies arise,” Monatisa said.
Wits also cited efforts beyond accommodation, pointing to food relief from Wits citizenship and community outreach as part of its student support infrastructure. “A thousand students receive a hot meal per term day,” he said.
The reality remains that the scale of the problem far outweighs the available resources. For many, the dream of studying at Wits is shadowed by nights spent in libraries, guard rooms, or even on the street.
FEATURED IMAGE: A picture of a student sleeping in the library. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
Johannesburg's underground punk rock scene has always been about more than simply music. From the beginning, it's been a site of rebellion against injustice and a community for those who dare to go against the norm. In this episode of We Should Be Writing, Mbali Khumalo takes you into this world, with guests from the […]
