South Africa’s pursuit of equity in male-dominated spaces require women leaders who are unapologetically women instead of women leaders who mimic their male counterparts, according to Wits Convocation president Kgomotso Mufamadi.
Womens Appreciation Event Panel: Wits University Masters student,Karabo Damane,Ayanda Ntanda, National Youth Development Agency (NYDA) Head of risk management,and Ms Baleka Mbete, former speaker of parliament,and Kgomotso Mufamadi Wits Convocation President. Photo: Milton Makgothoma
Wits students, and alumni gathered at Solomon Mahlangu House to discuss the importance of representation across all disciplines
The event encouraged of a reimagining of representation, and what that looks like for women in leadership
The event encouraged young woman to occupy spaces as their whole selves, instead of compartmentalizing and code-switching per environment requirement.
In recognition of Women’s month, the Wits Post-Graduate Association (PGA) office, in collaboration with Wits Alumni Relations, and Wits Doctoral Academy hosted a women’s month appreciation event aimed at celebrating women leaders on August 29th at the Film and TV cinema at Solomon Mahlangu House to unpack the importance of meaningful representation across disciplines and sectors.
Among the panel was Ayanda Ntanda, National Youth Development Agency (NYDA) Head of risk management, Kgomotso Mufamadi Wits Convocation President, and Ms Baleka Mbete, former speaker of parliament.
Karabo Damane opened the evening with a powerful chant “Igama lamakhosikazi malibongwe”, translated to‘May the name of women be appreciated, and thanked’,aimed at giving meaning to the Women’s Appreciation event.
Damane then shared that while representation politics continue to form part of an integral part of breaking down barriers, South Africa still grapples with an impactful reimagining of women in leadership positions.
Honourable Mbete argues that representation is but a consequence of people not being left alone to exist as they were, “I would have wanted to continue with what I came across when I was five years old… my father playing the piano, teaching me songs”, she said.
“Even with what you are referring to as representation politics… we have been grappling with racism, sexism, and you had feminism to grapple with sexism. All of that was in aim of something that was an agenda coming from elsewhere”, she continued.
Damane then segued into a discussion of what this activism could look like for women in a patriarchal society, where they are constantly pushed to be activists. Mufamadi believes it is quite simple. “One of the things we need to think about is reimagining work because we have imported what work should look like…and we have compartmentalized ourselves in this way, and its restrictive because at some point there appears to be some choice we have to make between our families and our careers”, said Mufamadi.
She shared an anecdote about her boss at one of her first jobs allowing her to leave earlier at work because she made use of a taxi, and often her working hours were quite long. She shared that this often came across as special treatment to her colleagues who had cars, not acknowledging that that provision allowed her to continue working from home. This is an indication of what reimagining work for women to simply exists as all their roles could look like.
The evening ended in a series of storytelling from their audience of how they continue to exist as young ladies in their professions in a way that does not mimic their male counterparts.
As storytelling continued to emerge from the audience, the central message to young women is clear: lead as women unapologetically, because impactful leadership requires authenticity.
FEATURED IMAGE:Womens appreciation panel. Photo: Milton Makgothoma
Loading Kudu Bucks onto student cards is still a daily struggle at Wits University.
Terminals on East and West Campus are faulty.
Students insert banknotes into the machines, only to have the money disappear without the corresponding credit being loaded onto their accounts.
Others report that the machines outright reject their notes, leaving them unable to top up their balances at crucial moments whether to print or book a consultation at Campus Heath.
The issue has become a familiar and frustrating cycle.
This systemic failure has created a trail of lost funds, forcing students to either go without essential services or spend more money to get their tasks done.
Technical Security Solutions (TSS) management has attributed this to an aging access control system that is slowly being updated, hence their intermittent functionality.
FEATURED IMAGE: Faulty Kudu Bucks terminal on West Campus. Photo: Lukholo Mazibuko
Township businesses are increasingly turning to solar power to stay sustainable and energyindependent.
• Load-shedding costs South Africa’s economy an estimated R4 billion per day,according to Business Tech.
•A Netbank survey with the Township Entrepreneurs Alliance that over 60% of townshipbusinesses stop operations during power cuts, while nearly two-thirds have cut jobs as aresult.
• Informal trade in South Africa is valued at more than R160 billion annually,supporting millions of households Stats SA, 2022.
Solar Power fuels township businesses as rising energy costs bites by Lindelwa Khanyile
A single solar panel rests on the roof of MaZulu’s stall, angled just enough to catch the late afternoon sun. The cables run into a small grey box tucked behind her counter, next to stacked bread loaves and cooking oil. The faint buzz of the battery is easy to miss under the crackle of hot oil, but the strip of lights above her serving hatch tells the story they stay bright even when the rest of the street falls into darkness.
Load-shedding is not just an inconvenience in Soweto; it is a business killer. For small traders, every hour of darkness means lost sales, spoiled food, and restless customers. But one local vendor, known as MaZulu, is rewriting the rules of township entrepreneurship with a solar panel, a fryer, and South Africa’s favourite township meal, the kota.
For years, MaZulu ran her small kota stand on electricity from the grid. Each afternoon, as school kids poured out of classrooms, she would prepare steaming loaves stuffed with polony, cheese, chips, and atchar. Business was steady until rolling blackouts began to cut into her trade.
“Kids don’t wait for electricity,” she said with a laugh, frying chips under her solar-powered light. “They want their kota hot, with cheese melted, even if Eskom is off.”The change came last year when she signed up for a pay-as-you-go solar package from a local energy provider. Instead of paying tens of thousands upfront for panels and installation, she pays a daily fee that adjusts with her sales. “If I don’t sell, I don’t pay. It’s like rent for the sun,” she explained.
According to Tech-Financials i-solar was founded to transform how low-income households access affordable solar energy removing the high upfront cost barrier and enabling folks to pay as little as R1 per day via mobile money so they can finally own their own power.
Street food is a pillar of the township economy. While exact numbers are hard to pin down, Stats SA data shows that millions of households rely on informal traders for daily meals. In Soweto alone, the fast-food informal sector supports thousands of families.
Informal trade in South Africa is valued at more than R160 billion annually
On an average school day, MaZulu sells 60 to 80 kotas, bringing in around R2,000 in revenue. Before solar, two hours of load-shedding would slash her sales by up to 30%, with chips left half-cooked and fridges failing. Now, she says, she can run her fryer, lights, and
card machine without disruption. “The only time I close early now is when the bread runs out.” This shift is about more than convenience: it’s survival.
Eskom’s current tariffs for small businesses average around R2.80 per kWh Eskom Tariff Book 2024. For a trader like MaZulu, running a fryer, fridge, and lights for about 10 hours can use up to 10 kWh per day, costing roughly R28 under normal conditions.
On paper, solar looks more expensive. But the difference is reliability. “R28 for Eskom is cheap until load-shedding hits,” she said. “When the power goes, I can lose R600 in sales in just one evening. That’s my real electricity bill.”
Over a month, MaZulu spends a few thousand rand on solar. But because she estimates solar saves her at least R6,000 in lost sales each month, she sees it as an investment, not a cost.
The stakes are high. Nedbank’s research shows that power cuts are the single biggest obstacle township traders face, ahead of crime or stock shortages (Nedbank Report, 2023).
Township entrepreneurs operate on thin margins; even a R500 daily loss can mean a child going without school shoes. South Africa is facing a twin crisis of unemployment and energy insecurity. Informal trade, worth more than R160 billion annually, acts as a safety net formillions excluded from the formal economy (Worldbank). Yet its growth is stunted by unreliable infrastructure.
Township businesses leaning towards soler power stay sustainable and energy independent.
Economist Lumkile Mondi of Wits University agrees that solar adoption is more than a business choice. “For township traders, reliable energy is the difference between staying in the market and closing down. Solar leasing models are lowering the barrier to entry, but adoption is still uneven,” he said.
Not all traders can afford the leap. A few streets from MaZulu, 34-year-old vendor Bongani Mokoena still runs his spaza shop on the grid. Bongani Mokoena’s spaza sits in silence during load-shedding, his fridge is off and meat slowly spilling while a candle on the counter flickers against shelves of warm cooldrinks. Where MaZulu keeps serving hot kotas under steady light, Bongani counts his losses; he estimates losing R400 to R600 weekly when fridges fail during load-shedding (Al Jazeera, 2023).
“You need money to save money,” he said, standing next to a silent freezer filled with thawing chicken. “If I had a pay-as-you-go solar option on cash, I’d take it tomorrow. But with three kids and school fees, sometimes you just push through the dark.”
Energy researchers point out that prepaid, small-scale solar models like the one MaZulu uses could scale township resilience. “We’re seeing a trend where township traders are early adopters of fintech and pay-as-you-go services,” said Nthabiseng Molefe, an energy researcher at the University of Johannesburg. “They are practical, adaptive, and quick to see value.”
Still, barriers remain. Upfront installation costs, even when structured as daily payments, can be daunting for low-turnover vendors. While solar makes sense for high-volume businesses like MaZulu’s kota stand, smaller stalls selling vetkoek or amagwinya may not generate enough sales to justify the cost.
A study by S. Ngcongwane indicates that township small, medium, and micro enterprises (SMMEs) are increasingly considering solar energy as a viable alternative to unreliable grid electricity. The research highlights that many township SMMEs are exploring solar energytechnology adoption to enhance their operational efficiency and reduce dependence on the national grid.
Back at her stand, MaZulu is less concerned with the financial equations and more with her customers. For her, the kota is not just about feeding Soweto, but about keeping a township tradition alive.
“People say township businesses are small, but my kota stand puts my kids through school,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “If the sun is shining, I’m working. That’s freedom.”
While South Africa debates energy reforms, township entrepreneurs like MaZulu are already adapting. For them, solar power is not just about escaping Eskom or addressing climate change: it is what keeps food on the table, and hope within reach.
FEATURED IMAGE: Solar Power fuels township businesses as rising energy costs bites by Lindelwa Khanyile
Wits social work students are working to upskill and inform their patients to facilitate community reintegration.
Patients cannot afford to travel to free governmental skills development agencies.
Employers discriminate against people with criminal records and recovering addicts.
An addict turned drug counsellor claims it is possible to start afresh.
Patients from Westview drug and alcohol rehabilitation clinic filled Dobsonville’s community hall for a skills and entrepreneurship workshop, on Thursday, August 28. Facilitated by Wits University social work students, these workshops aim to ensure a proper income for drug addicts after rehabilitation.
Wits fourth-year social work student, Karabo Khubelu and her colleagues found that their patients could not afford to travel to free government skills agencies.
As a result, patients had difficulties making ends meet post-rehabilitation. “Most of these patients do not have skills they can use to sustain a living.
“Those who have skills face the same challenges as those without, because many employers discriminate against people with criminal records and recovering addicts,” said Khubelu.
The workshops focused on skills such as using laser machines to make products like pencil boxes, belts and printed t-shirts, and using Artificial Intelligence (AI) to draw up business proposals.
An economic development facilitator from the Gauteng Department of Economic Development, Tsepang Mokgatla encouraged them to register businesses as opportunities are easier to access when one’s papers are in order.
“My job is to help you move your business from where you are to where you want it to be,” he said.
The social workers at Westview included testimonials from recovered addicts in their workshops.
“I am not an addict because I used, I used because I am an addict. I had an obsessive nature since childhood, I should have known I would be obsessed about alcohol and drugs too,” said Keamogetse Molotsi, recovered addict, entrepreneur and registered drug counsellor.
Molotsi’s addiction even led to living on the streets. He woke up one day, in August 2020, after two years of staying in the streets and 11 years of drug abuse and admitted he had a problem and needed help.
He spent six weeks at Dobsonville community development forum and another six weeks at the Westview clinic.
Molotsi managed to turn his life around using the R350 Social Relief of Distress (SRD) Grant. He stocked chicken feet and started a food business.
Through the assistance of free skills and entrepreneurial development services, Molotsi managed to grow his business. From selling chicken feet at a street corner, to a full Shisanyama with four employees.
There are various rehabilitation centres across Johannesburg. If you are struggling with addiction or know someone who is, make use of such services and turn your life around with the help of people who care.
Contact details for some of the above-mentioned rehabilitation centres are found below:
Westview Clinic 082 059 9580
Journey Recovery & Wellness Centre 079 465 4556
Emndeni Rehabilitation Centre 011 934 6137
Addiction Assistance 011 477 0859
FEATURED IMAGE: Philip Ndala, Gauteng regional administrator of the National Youth Development Agency, sharing information about laser machines. Photo: Lulah Mapiye
A moving memorial service honoured Tshidi Madia’s dedication, mentorship, and enduring passion for journalism.
Tshidi’s memorial program. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Tshidi Madia, passed away, at age 42, after a short illness.
Remembered as a passionate journalist, mentor, and friend at her memorial.
Her dedication and influence have left a lasting mark on South Africa’s media community.
The South African media fraternity bid farewell to veteran journalist Tshidi Madia (42), Associate Editor for Politics at Eyewitness News (EWN), who died last week, on August 27, 2025 after a short illness.
On Tuesday,September 2, friends, family, and colleagues gathered at Primedia, Sandton for a memorial service that celebrated her life and lasting impact. The ceremony opened with a moving performance by the Greenside High School choir, whose soft, tender hymn wrapped the hall in an atmosphere of sorrow and grace.
Madia, remembered for her warmth and lively spirit, was described as a journalist who deeply loved her country, her profession, and the people around her. Nisa Allie, EWN’s Editor-in-Chief, spoke on behalf of the newsroom, recalled Madia’s tireless passion for political reporting.
“Even when she was not on diary, Tshidi would pop into our WhatsApp groups just to say she was going to stop by an event or gathering to see what she could get or who she could talk to. That’s how passionate she was,” Allie said.
For younger journalists, Madia was more than a colleague. Alpha Ramushwana, a news reporter at EWN, shared how she became his mentor when he first joined as an intern in 2022.
Tshidi’s memorial venue in Sandton. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
“Tshidi saw something in me that I didn’t see. She told me I would have a great career in journalism, and for the past three years, she kept affirming that,” Ramushwana said.
Her family, too, paid tribute to her unwavering dedication. Reabetjoe Makoko, Madia’s sister, said: “My sister worked hard, she loved what she did, and so many people didn’t know until that moment of the US, but trust me she’s been working so hard for many years.”
As memories and tributes flowed, a portrait emerged of a woman who was not only a formidable journalist but also a loving sister, mentor, and friend. Tshidi Madia will be remembered for her beautiful heart, her relentless work ethic, and the love she shared with all who knew her.
FEATURED IMAGE: Tshidi Madia’s image at the memorial. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Behind every ride-share hailed and every taxi boarded lies a struggle for territory, income and safety, one that turned deadly in Soweto.
A clash at Maponya Mall left one driver dead and reopened old wounds in South Africa’s long running battle over passengers, power and survival.
As violence flares once again between e-hailing and taxis, commuters are forced to confront the risks hidden in their daily rides.
Years after promises of new transport laws, the streets remain unregulated battlefields where young drivers are left vulnerable.
On an August evening outside Maponya Mall in Soweto, smoke from two burning cars lingered. It was supposed to be another ordinary shift for Siyanda Mthokozisi Mvelase of evening Uber trips around Soweto to earn enough probably for a week’s rent, or even groceries. Instead, he became the latest victim in the escalating conflict between taxi operators and e-hailing drivers.
The 27-year-old e-hailing driver, who had reportedly only been working for a few days, was ambushed at a/the Soweto shopping center. According to Independent Online (IOL), eyewitness reports and preliminary police investigations, Mvelase was shot before his car was set alight. The barbaric nature of the attack left another vehicle (of another unnamed e-hailing driver) in burnt pieces, and a passerby injured. This incident has cast a harsh spotlight on the unresolved tensions that continue to claim lives and instill fear within the public transport sector.
While police investigations are still underway with a case of murder and two counts of attempted murder being investigated, the incident is widely believed to be the latest casualty in the violent feud between the taxi industry and the increasingly popular e-hailing services such as Uber and Bolt. In the immediate aftermath, the South African National Taxi Council (SANTACO) condemned the violence, and offered to cover Mvelase’s funeral costs.
However, many remain skeptical, viewing the gesture as an attempt at damage control in the face of public outrage. Uber also issued a statement of condolence, though it clarified that the driver was not registered on its platform at the time of the incident. This detail has made matters even worse, leaving questions about the regulation and oversight of the broader e-hailing sector.
Hustling in a collapsing economy
Mvelase was part of a growing wave of young people turning to platforms like Uber and Bolt to make a living in an economy with high youth unemployment. With scarcity of proper jobs, e-hailing has become a fallback hustle – a little more flexible, relatively easy to enter, and a way to cover the costs of living. No application processes, no expensive qualifications, just a car and a smartphone.
However, for drivers, every trip carries uncertainty. Shopping malls, Gautrain stations and airports are hotspots for intimidation, harassment and in many cases, violence. A Bolt driver interviewed by Wits Vuvuzela, Xolani Mdlalose, said that for every pick-up and drop-off, he constantly has to look over his shoulder, that the life struggles they try to overcome are what puts their lives in danger.
The human cost is quite heavy, and for many considering e-hailing services as a side hustle, stories like Mvelase’s leave a bitter taste in one’s mouth.
Commuters caught in the middle of the feud
For students, Ubers and Bolts are not just luxury, they are often the safest option for navigating Johannesburg. From late-night study sessions to off-campus accommodation in scattered suburbs or social gatherings that end after public transport (taxis) working hours, all depend on Uber or Bolt.
“I take a taxi from Soweto to campus every day because it’s cheaper,” said Nkululeko Dlamini, a second year property studies student. “But you find that sometimes, especially early mornings, we wait for a while if there aren’t enough passengers to fill the Quantum. This is stressful on days I have morning classes”
Others turn to Uber or Bolt for reliability. “I prefer Uber more than taxis, because it is more convenient. Literally picks me up from wherever I am, at any time, and drops me off exactly where I am going,” said Refilwe Molefe, a first-year computer science student. “It feels safer but after what happened at Maponya Mall, you realise one’s safety is not really guaranteed.”
Students are caught in the middle of affordable taxis on one side and the relative convenience of e-hailing on the other, with both overshadowed by safety concerns. It’s a choice many describe as a gamble.
Regulation and Governance
The irony is that the legal framework to regulate these tensions already exists. In June 2024, President Cyril Ramaphosa signed the National Land Transport Amendment Act (Act 23 of 2023) (NLTA), a long-awaited update to South Africa’s transport law. This law was supposed to bring order to the chaos. For the first time, e-hailing services are formally recognized and regulated, requiring drivers to hold proper operating licenses and platforms like Uber and Bolt to be endorsed by the licenses.
The Act also empowers provincial regulatory authorities to suspend or withdraw licenses for offences and ties permits to municipal Integrated Transport Plans (a mechanism designed to avoid the oversupply “flashpoints” that often lead to violent clashes at malls and taxi ranks).
But more than a year later, implementation is stuck. The regulations that give the law significance remain delayed. Provinces struggle with license backlogs, enforcement authorities lack resources and platforms like Uber and Bolt continue to operate in grey zone and are seen as unregulated competitors. As a result, many e-hailing drivers are left exposed, fueling friction with the taxi industry.
A way forward
In response to the public outcry, government officials vowed to take decisive actions. The Minister of Transport has announced the imminent and full implementation of the NTLA Act.
But without these regulations, commuters and drivers remain vulnerable. Taxi associations continue to assert territorial control, sometimes violently, while e-hailing platforms distance themselves from accountability by pointing to legal ambiguities.
For commuters and the unemployed, the resolution of this conflict is not just a matter of convenience, it’s a matter of safety and access to opportunities. The tragic death of Siyanda Mvelase serves as a reminder of the human cost of unresolved tensions.
As a generation striving to build their futures in a challenging economy, young people and students in Johannesburg deserve a safe and reliable public transport system that allows them to pursue their aspirations without the constant fear of violence. The effective implementation of the NLTA Act, coupled with meaningful engagement and enforcement, offers a glimmer of hope for a future where both e-hailing drivers and passengers can navigate the city’s roads with greater security and peace of mind.
But until then, both drivers and passengers remain at risk.
FEATURED IMAGE: A picture of a taxi and a private car next to each other to represent the feud. Image: Lulah Mphiye
Wasteful expenditure on emergency ambulance transport is on the rise, and the university is now drawing a financial line in the sand.
Wits University attempts to manage the high cost of emergency services for residence students who refuse ambulance transport.
Almost R300 000 is spent annually on ambulance services.
The trend of transport refusals has been happening for years.
The frantic dance of red and blue lights shatters the silence of a Wits residence hall, pulsing through the window blinds. For a student without medical aid, this sudden flashing arrival is reassuring; a lifeline of professional care provided by the university.
But what happens when the student’s condition improves, or they have a change of heart and the ambulance leaves without a patient?
This frequent scenario is what the university views as a financially wasteful trend, prompting it to inform students they could be liable for a minimum of R3,000 for refusing transport for medical emergencies.
The communication, forwarded via email by the respective wardens to students living in Wits residences, begs the question of what exactly constitutes a “wasted call,” and how does this apparent misuse of emergency services translate into a significant financial burden for the university?
The financial burden and wasted calls
The Wits Campus Housing and Residence Life (CHRL) department has been absorbing costs related to student medical emergencies.
ER24, the private emergency service provider for students not on medical aid, expressed its concern to the university about students’ refusal to be transported.
Basil Mugwena, CHRL director, explained that if a student is not on medical aid, the university calls ER24 and covers the cost, opting for private services like ER24 over slower government ambulances.
The CHRL financial manager, Tabrez Jooman, stated, “Contractually, if a student refuses to be further assisted, the University still pays for the ambulance service.”
The university’s annual contract with private ambulance provider, ER24 amounts to approximately R300,000.
Mugwena notes that a single ambulance that is dispatched and leaves without a patient can cost the university almost R1,000.
It’s important to note that the R300,000 contract with ER24 does not cover the most severe cases. Mugwena, talking about the intensive care unit (ICU), clarified, “There are cases that we’ve had where we’ve had students in ICU.”
He emphasised that for these serious incidents, the university often has to cover much larger expenses. For example, he recounted one incident where a student was in the ICU for an extended period: “The default position is if you are not on medical aid after 72 hours, if you are still sick, you must be transferred to government [hospital]. Which will not happen. [So], we paid.”
These more critical situations fall outside the scope of the regular ambulance contract, placing a greater financial strain on the university.
The frustration, Mugwena noted, stems from situations where an ambulance is called, but the student either no longer needs or refuses the transport or those who call to “see whether these fellows will respond”.
“This [transport refusals] has been going on for the past few years,” he said.
Email correspondence to Wits residence students on ambulance transport refusals.
A paramedic’s perspective on refusals
Campus Health paramedic, Tebogo Sibilanga, whose team works closely with ER24 to provide rapid emergency care for students, confirmed that they have seen numerous cases of refusals for hospital transportation (RHT).
When asked how they determine if a student is fit to refuse transport, Sibilanga explained, “We’ve got what we call a Glasgow Coma Score. It has a score out of 15 which we use to determine your level of consciousness. And also, your body coordination.”
Sibilanga explained that they are legally prohibited from forcing a patient into an ambulance unless a mental health professional determines the student is a danger to themselves or others.
A common scene is set by Sibilanga: an asthmatic student who, after being found and stabilised by the team, refuses transport upon feeling better because they found their pump.
While the patient may have the resources to manage their condition, the paramedic’s protocol requires them to assess the situation thoroughly before leaving a patient to their own devices.
“We’ve had cases… when the paramedics arrived, they found that no, this particular student simply did not take their own medication,” Mugwena stated.
Sibilanga also shed light on the reason for the reliance on private services. “Due to delays with provincial ambulances—which can sometimes take hours—the university outsources the service to ER24 to ensure a rapid response time, ideally within a six-minute window.”
This partnership, alongside a deal with Milpark Hospital, Charlotte Maxeke and Hillbrow Hospital, is designed to bridge the gap in emergency care for students, particularly those who do not have medical aid.
“Actually, there are two paramedics on campus for the whole university, which is very disturbing. But we are working on hiring more people,” he said.
The challenge of mental health crises
A portion of the “wasted” calls stems from students experiencing anxiety attacks, particularly those who are directed to Akeso, a private psychiatric hospital.
Mugwena described this arrangement as a “headache,” noting a frustrating trend where students will often refuse to go to the on-campus Counselling and Careers Development Unit (CCDU), but then insist on being taken to Akeso. However, according to protocol, a student must first be seen by CCDU to get a referral.
Mugwena pointed to stigmatisation as a major reason for students’ hesitation to be taken by an Akeso vehicle, fearing they will be perceived as “mad.”
While the university does have the authority to authorise an “involuntary admission” if a psychiatrist determines a student is a danger to themselves, Mugwena believes the issue is more complex than simple abuse of the system.
He stated, “I will not say this person is doing this deliberately… I’m saying something may be underlying.” He added that he would not penalise a student for refusing transport due to a mental health issue, calling it “inhumane.”
So, are students actually liable for payment?
The short answer is no.
Contrary to the email, both Mugwena and Jooman indicated that the R3,000 charge mentioned in the email is a deterrent, not a rigid fee that has been implemented.
Jooman said, “I am not aware of any minimum charge of R3000 being set and none has been levied to any student to date.” Mugwena confirmed, “We have never done any penalty on any student.”
Despite the threat, it was revealed that their main strategy is education.
“The best thing that we can do is to educate because time and again we say to wardens, talk to students, particularly about calling ambulance services,” clarified Mugwena.
When asked if thereis ongoing communication with students about emergency procedures, Zethu Lubisi, warden for the all-female residence, Sunnyside Hall of Residence, said, “Yes, during quarterly PGM meetings, wardens share information and encourage students to use university health services like Campus Health to get timely assistance and reduce reliance on ambulance services.”
For now, Wits is walking a fine line, using a financial threat to manage a behavioural trend, while internally acknowledging the ethical and human complexities of the situation.
The central message to students is clear: “Stop abusing this,” while the internal conversation among staff is focused on the best way to educate students and reduce financial waste without compromising their wellbeing.
FEATURED IMAGE: ER24 ambulance vehicle parked outside on the piazza at the Great Hall at Wits University. Photo: Lukholo Mazibuko
For some, adding the environment to the laundry list of concerns about the future is too much to handle.
More immediate concerns like unemployment make it hard for young people to prioritise fighting climate change.
Global warming is impacting mental health, causing eco-anxiety and ecological grief.
Young people are at a crossroads, unsure if they have it in them to take up this cause.
It’s 2018 and Ayakha Melithafa is a teenage girl like any other. Her school days consist of laughing with friends and teasing each other about their latest crushes, trying to pay attention as teachers drone on about Shakespeare and trigonometry. Occasionally, her mind will wander to her mother, still in the Eastern Cape.
On the phone, Ayakha tells her about Day Zero, and how Cape Town has worked itself into a frenzy. The taps are still running, even if the water is a little dodgy. She asks her mother how she’s doing back home. “Oh, I’m fine, everything here is fine,” she tells her daughter. The drought there has spread, but they’re managing, she shouldn’t worry.
For Ayakha, the end of term can’t come soon enough. She says goodbye to Cape Town, and travels east, back to the small farm that is her childhood home. Over the phone, her mother had put her mind at ease. In person, though, Ayakha can see that the worry in her eyes betrays her words of reassurance. The extent of the drought can’t be ignored. Fields that should be green are cracked and brittle. Livestock, once healthy, look thinner as they meander slowly on sparse grazing land. Her mind is full of questions for which she has no answers.
She returns to Cape Town, her heart heavy with the fear that things are changing for the worst. Just two weeks later, her life sciences teacher would hand out pamphlets for the YouLead initiative, a youth programme by climate justice organisation Project 90 by 2030. That would be the moment her climate activism is born.
Young activists, like Ayakha Melithafa, have taken the challenge of fighting climate change head-on. Photo: Afribeing.
The fight feels too big
Today, the feeling of despair that Ayakha felt is what experts are calling eco-anxiety. For her, it lit a fire to act. But for others her age, it is breeding a quieter response: tuning out or convincing themselves that the climate crisis is someone else’s problem. Young people are caught in the tension between fear and indifference, searching for ways to reconcile that their inheritance is a burning planet.
For South African youth in particular, climate change is just one of many looming threats to their futures, and caring about them all can be too much to shoulder.
“I’m not big on worrying about things that I can’t control. If I think of all the things that are happening in this country that are scary and that I know are going to affect me in the future, I ask myself what am I going to do about that? I see climate change the same way,” said Ntokozo Seoka, a first-year engineering student.
“Am I going to stop the rain, am I going to stop the floods? I could start an organisation or something but it’s going to take a much bigger collective action to change anything, so I don’t even bother,” she candidly shared.
For Ayakha, this disillusionment is understandable, but still disappointing. “That mindset is a little bit scary. As young people, there’s always going to be something else that we’re focusing on and prioritising. But if we don’t look towards the future, then we will always be in survival mode,” she said.
Rather than allowing the climate crisis to demoralise her, Ayakha insists that the solution is to tackle this issue head on and try to find the opportunities in it, as others have. “In the global north, these young people have clocked it. […] They’re developing climate tech and coming up with advanced ideas, while in the global south we’re still trying to understand what climate change even means,” she said. “It’s not about trying to be them, it’s about being in a state of readiness.”
Research shows that young South Africans have several climate-related concerns. Graphic: Mbali Khumalo.
The human toll of a warming world
Humans often forget that we’re of the earth, not just on it. Climate change is not something we’re seeing happen around us, it is also happening to us, on a physiological level. Plastic pollution is a clear example. “People on the frontlines, scientists, have found microplastics in blood, air, even human placentas,” said Hellen Dena, Project Lead for the Pan-African Plastics Project at Greenpeace Africa. She insists that environmental crises are also human health crises.
Darshnika Lakhoo, clinical researcher at the Wits Planetary Health Research Division, has found that the impact on the mind is far more nuanced than just a passing concern about dry rivers or melting ice caps. “Psychoterratic syndrome is a term that encompasses a lot of ecological related mental health impacts of climate change,” she explains. “The terms under this umbrella are eco-anxiety, ecological grief, which is the mourning related to the change in your environment and the loss of the natural world. There is also solastalgia, which is stress caused by environmental changes.”
Environmental justice organisations see this within their ranks. “Eco-anxiety is very real among young people. There’s a lot of fear and frustration, and also just grief about nature as a whole,” said Keletso Malepe, co-founder of the South African Youth Biodiversity Network. “We’re experiencing drought, floods, heatwaves, even wildfires. […] These climate risks don’t exist in isolation. They interact with all the other vulnerabilities that young people face like poverty and high unemployment,” Malepe said.
A generation at a crossroads
The youth are left in a climate catch-22. The task of reversing the damage done by older generations is so daunting that some would rather avoid it altogether. However, to do nothing only increases the risk of worsening their physical and mental health, as this crisis continues to destroy livelihoods and displace communities.
For those like Ayakha, there was no choice. Climate change didn’t knock on her door, it kicked it down. Stories like hers mark the test the youth face today. “Each generation had a great challenge,” said LLB student Aiden Chetty. “Ours is the environment, and to avoid it would make us the first generation too cowardly to embrace its cause.”
Students at Wits University had their say on how the climate crisis is impacting their wellbeing. Video: Mbali Khumalo
FEATURED IMAGE: Climate change has become a generation-defining fight for the youth. Image: Chris de Beer-Procter.
Graduating no longer guarantees stability. With stagnant salaries, high living costs, and family obligations, young South Africans are working hard but falling behind.
“Financial freedom is possible, but it requires discipline, sacrifice, and smart investing,” said Dr Nkunzi
The cost of living is rising faster than paychecks.
Internships or entry-level jobs typically pay too little to cover the cost of living.
When Kgomotso Mogale graduated with a biomedicine degree from Eduvos in 2024, she imagined a future in a laboratory or research facility, applying her skills in a field she had dedicated years of study to. Instead, she found herself in sales at a private university, earning just R8000 a month. On paper, it’s a stable job. But in reality, the numbers don’t add up.
Living in Midrand, next to the school she works at, Mogale pays R6000 for rent, leaving only R2000 to stretch across food and other daily needs. By month-end, nothing is left of her salary. Saving for the future is impossible, considering the fact that she also sends her mother money at home.
“I thought getting my degree would mean independence,” Mogale said. “But I can’t even afford the basics. Everything feels too much,” she added.
Monthly Salary vs Expenses. Graph: Dikeledi, Canva
Dr. Sibulele Nkunzi, lecturer at Wits University’s School of Economics and Finance noted that it is shocking how little internships still pay, with many offering between R5,000 and R8,000.
“That barely covers the cost of a small apartment in Johannesburg,” he explained. What is more concerning, he added, is that this level of pay has hardly changed in 15 years, despite rising living costs. Entry-level salaries should be adjusted for inflation, but companies often point to budget pressures and higher operational costs as reasons for holding back. The result is that graduates in cities like Midrand face unaffordable expenses, sometimes forcing them to drop out of the job market altogether.
For a lot of South African graduates, Mogale’s story is very common. Graduating from university is meant to signal the start of adulthood, but for today’s generation, it often marks the beginning of financial struggle.
Internships or entry-level jobs typically pay too little to cover the cost of living in cities like Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Cape Town. Rent, transport, and food consume almost everything, leaving no room for savings or long-term planning.
Stats SA reports that youth unemployment remains very high, with thousands of graduates across the country struggle to find work in their fields. Many, like Mogale, are forced into roles outside their area of study simply to survive.
Stats SA data. Graph: Dikeledi Ramabula, Canva
Even people who have jobs are earning less in reality, because prices keep going up while their salaries stay the same. According to the BankservAfrica Take-Home Pay Index, real salaries in South Africa have barely grown over the past five years. That means even when graduates earn more on paper, their money stretches less every month.
“The cost of living is rising faster than paychecks,” says Johannesburg-based financial educator Ona Selepe. “Young professionals are earning, but they’re not getting ahead. Most can’t save, and many turn to debt just to stay afloat,” she said.
In Mogale’s case, small things like catching a taxi to go buy groceries drain her budget. “By the time I pay for taxis and groceries, I’m in the red. I’m not even thinking about things like medical aid or investments. I simply can’t afford them,” she said.
Beyond rising costs, there’s another layer of pressure unique to many South Africans: “black tax.” Graduates who are the first in their families to secure jobs often feel obligated to support parents or siblings financially, even when they themselves are struggling.
Human resources consultant Mummy Seriti says this expectation places young workers in impossible positions. “They’re expected to live up to the image of success, the car, the good suburb, but the money simply isn’t there to sustain that lifestyle.”
For Mogale, the thought of helping family members is overwhelming. “I want to support them, but how can I when I can barely support myself?”
Dr.Nkunzi explained how inflation is hitting new graduates especially hard. “The high cost of living makes it difficult for graduates to cope, particularly those starting out in low-pay internships,” he said. “Most of their income goes straight to rent, transport, and groceries, leaving little for basics like electricity, internet, or even toiletries.
“Without parental support, many are forced to stretch limited pay to survive. This constant financial pressure doesn’t just reduce quality of life, it also harms mental health, work performance, and relationships,” he added.
Dr. Nkunzi emphasised that financial literacy is crucial for young graduates trying to make the most of their limited income. “The truth is, many people only learn about money after making costly mistakes,” he said. Being proactive, learning how to budget, avoiding unnecessary debt, and starting early, can make a significant difference.
He stressed that financial freedom is possible, but it requires discipline, sacrifice, and smart investing. Graduates may also need to explore alternative income streams, which are increasingly available through technology and the gig economy, to ease pressure and begin building a more secure financial future.
Mogale’s journey reflects a generation caught between ambition and survival, a reminder that until conditions change, financial freedom will remain out of reach for too many graduates.
FEATURED IMAGE: Monthly Salary vs Expenses. Graph: Dikeledi, Canva
The Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) holds Wits University accountable for silence on Israeli apartheid.
The Wits PSC initiated a campaign calling out Wits’ complicity in Israeli Apartheid.
Wits University has a history of activism against injustice but remains silent to the current conflict.
The PSC accuses the university of platforming Zionism through hiring decisions and by marginalising pro-Palestinian voices.
The history of Wits University is difficult to ignore as you wander through the halls. On every step, there’s a story; on every lawn lingers cries of resistance. As a student, one can take pride in knowing that they are following a generation of activists in an institution which refused to stay silent in the face of apartheid. Today, students continue to hold power to account, yet, with a key difference – Wits University is now the institution that is being held accountable.
The Wits Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) along with their supporters have carried out protests against Israeli apartheid for years, with students gathering, holding red, white, and green flags, raising their voices, calling for Palestine’s freedom. Following South Africa’s International Court of Justice (ICJ) case against Israel, the PSC called on the institution to take a firm stand on the Genocide. Though the university called for a ceasefire in Palestine, the institutions broader inaction on the matter was the driver of a much more cutting campaign: ‘Wits’ Complicity in Israeli Apartheid.’
Collage of PSC campaign posts. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
From liberation to complicity
Affirmed by the university itself, Wits has been an ‘open university’ since its establishment. Committed to maintaining “a firm, consistent and vigorous stand against apartheid, not only in education, but in all its manifestations,” protesting avidly against the Extension of the University Education Act of 1959, which controlled the acceptance of non-white students into South African universities.
In the PSC’s letter of demands to the university, it was noted that while the university confirmed that they have not entered into any new agreements with Israeli companies in the past eight years, but, “are extremely troubled to learn that Wits remains implicit in doing business with Israeli companies, accepting donations from the Israeli embassy, and employing a former IDF officer as one of the University’s professors.”
Though the university stays silent, the PSC campaign alleges that Wits shows its complicity through key administrative decisions made.
Who speaks in our lecture halls?
Karen Milner is an associate professor of psychology at the Wits University; she is also the National Chair of the South African Jewish Board of Deputies (SAJBD).
Following South Africa’s ICJ proceedings against Israel, Milner published a letter addressed to President Cyril Ramaphosa. The letter outlines the board’s disdain with the country’s case against Israel, calling the 7 October 2023 attack, “the greatest tragedy since the Holocaust 78 years ago.”
While acknowledging the severity of 7 October 2023 attack, this concern, however, ignores the history that has led to the current genocide against Palestinians.
The PSC lay the groundwork, highlighting that Milner not only defended Israel against the ICJ and deem the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) Movement as antisemitic, but also dismissed allegations of genocide against Palestinians.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Milner who commented, “As an Academic I believe and advocate that institutions of higher education, and especially Wits University, need to be inclusive spaces, that foster diversity and welcome a multiplicity of views. I respect the views of students and staff with views that may differ from mine, and hope that others can do the same. My issue with the Wits PSC’s campaign is that it seeks to silence any dissenting or different opinion and is contrary to the values of our constitutional democracy and intellectual freedom.
“Shutting down and threatening Jewish voices in any environment, because they don’t adhere to a simplistic ideological stance, is deeply problematic, and antithetical to the principles of our university and our country,” she said.
In her concluding remarks, Milner expressed issue with the use of the word ‘apartheid’ in the context of Israel and Palestine, calling it “biased”.
But, for the PSC, Milner’s stance is not an academic one, but one that contravenes the Palestinian reality.
As South Africans we have the best front line to say what apartheid is and what is not apartheid. So, I completely disagree with that. I don’t think it’s a biased notion.”
Much like the pass system of apartheid South Africa, Palestinian movement in Israel has been restricted since the year 2000. According to OCHA(The United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs), Israel has imposed additional restrictions across the West Bank and East Jerusalem, with over 800 movement barriers, since October 2023. These include checkpoints and roadblocks among others.
These barriers have impacted access to healthcare and food supply among others. According to an update by OCHApublished 28 August 2025, the humanitarian crisis on the Gaza Strip and the West Bank has intensified, with increased famine, loss of life, illness, and displacement.
“So, what is that? If that’s not apartheid, not genocide, please tell me what it is,” Hussain said.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Irfaan Mangera, Wits alum, activist, and educator. He said, “as an alum, I feel ashamed that an institution we studied at that claimed to be progressive and justice-centric actually is the opposite, and I think more institutions need to stand up. Apartheid in South Africa didn’t end on its own.
“Institutions globally boycotting South Africa, whether it was the sports boycotts where footballers weren’t allowed to travel, academic institutions that took a principled moral stance that said we can’t be inviting academics from South Africa over if they are complicit in apartheid, and that actually applied the necessary pressure to force the white government of the time to go to the negotiating table. This is what’s required of institutions today. It needs a backbone, and it needs moral clarity on issues like this,” he said.
Opposing narratives
Though Wits has withheld its voice, actions have impact. The PSC further implicates the university in platforming Zionism through the South African Union of Jewish Students (SAUJS) propaganda and marginalising pro-Palestinian voices, with PSC events facing surveillance, censorship, and intimidation.
In response to this allegation, Jacob Boner, Wits SAUJS chairperson, said, “SAUJS operates within the guidelines of the university code of conduct at all times. Our events also often focus on being inclusive and open to all ideas and fostering constructive dialogue. PSC events, by contrast, often focus on large performative gatherings where disruption is favoured over dialogue.”
He continued, “Zionism is also a core ideology and belief for nearly all Jews and, therefore, the call that platforming Zionism on campus is problematic is a call to denounce the right of the hundreds of Jewish students who SAUJS represents to freely express themselves on campus.”
Hussain spoke to Wits Vuvuzela at a Marikana memorial on 22 August 2025, on Amic Deck, she said, “Today’s event took me three weeks to get approved, it’s not a new thing, we’ve done it previously, there’s precedence.”
“We needed an electric source. Vida wasn’t allowing us to use the electric source. Why? Did they say why? Political affiliation. That’s literally all they said.”
Wits Vuvuzela reached out to leadership but are yet to receive a response.
Silence as complicity
Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag and facts retrieved from OCHA. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
The question that lingers at the steps of the Great Hall, then, is whether Wits will honour its history of resistance or let its silence mirror the volume of its part defiance. The answer to this remains to be seen, but for the PSC and their supporters, the echoes of South Africa’s history of Apartheid are heard in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Through this we are reminded that silence is, in fact, an act of violence.
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
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
“Babita stood up for what was right, even when it put her at risk”, said Rakesh Deokaran
Babita Deokaran flagged R850 million in suspicious hospital payments, including funds to letterbox companies.
Civil society warns whistleblowers remain vulnerable, with government protections still inadequate.
Wicks’ book exposes a shadow network of officials and syndicates siphoning public healthcare fund.
Jeff Wicks signing his new book The Shadow State: Why Babita Deokaran had to die at its launch in Killarney on August 27. Photo: Likho Mbuka
Incidents of corruption and attacks on whistleblowers are not isolated – they reveal a system that endangers those who speak out. This is the disturbing reality explored in Jeff Wicks’ new book The Shadow State: Why Babita Deokaran had to die.
The book uncovers a “shadow state” of crooked officials and syndicates stealing billions meant for patients in Gauteng public hospitals, a reality that has left patients suffering in hospitals like Tembisa.
Wicks, a News24 investigative journalist and two-time recipient of the Taco Kuiper Award was in discussion with broadcaster and journalist Mandy Wiener at the book launch in Killarney, Johannesburg, on 27 August 2025.
“This book is a tribute to the courage of Babita, who refused to keep quiet, despite being confronted with powerful wrongdoers.” said Wicks.
Deokaran, flagged R850 million in suspicious hospital payments, including R60 million to letterbox companies and R500,000 for 200 pairs of denim pants. This corruption thrived in a hospital already struggling with overcrowding and staff shortages, putting patients at risk.
While the hitmen responsible for Deokaran’s killing have been arrested, the crucial questions of who ordered the murder and their motive remain unanswered. Wicks’ book confronts the authorities, including the South African Police Service (SAPS) and Directorate for Priority Crime Investigation (DPCI), who failed to act decisively.
Despite the personal risks, Wicks left no stone unturned.
“I feel like I have failed. Four years later, not a single corrupt individual has been arrested or prosecuted. They are still breathing free air,” Wicks said, reflecting on the ongoing lack of justice.
“It was deeply emotional for us as a family”, said her brother Rakesh Deokaran.
“To see Babita’s story captured with such care and honesty reminded us of her bravery and the sacrifices she made.”
In an interview with Wits Vuvuzela, civil society activist Devoshum Moodley-Veera from the Active Citizen Movement (ACM) warned that whistleblowers continue to face job losses, character assassination, and death.
Broadcaster Mandy Wiener emphasized that state capture is far from over and that fundamental systemic changes are needed to protect those who come forward.
“The current system is far from sufficient to protect whistleblowers in a practical, real way,” she said.
Wicks is urging readers to confront corruption and advocate for stronger whistleblower protections.
FEATURED IMAGE: Jeff Wicks and Mandy Wiener on stage at the book launch on August 27. Photo: Likho Mbuka
In this episode, we explore the first principle of the Freedom Charter: “The people shall govern,” and ask what it means in modern South Africa. Through the voice of Thoriso Mogoru, a student who voted in the 2024 national elections and the insights of political analyst Prof. Daryl Glaser, we look at the gap between […]
