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
Luthando Jose has shown that resilience can turn a simple pair of clippers into tools of survival, hope, and entrepreneurial success.
Luthando Jose began cutting hair in his residence to create an income stream.
He balances his studies at Wits while supporting his family financially.
His dedication earned recognition from the CEO of Legends Barber, who personally delivered professional equipment.
The hum of clippers echoes through a small Wits University residence room on a late weekday evening. The smell of hairspray lingers in the air, faintly mixing with the familiar aroma of instant noodles cooking next door, two students next in line waiting their turn while chatting and scrolling through their phones. At the centre of it all is Luthando Jose, a 20-year-old construction in property Studies student with the precision of a seasoned barber and the determination of someone who knows what’s at stake.
His focus is razor sharp as he leans in to perfect a fade. A quick flick of the wrist, a buzz of the clippers, and a smile from the client in the chair. Jose looks up for a moment and laughs. “It started as just helping guys look fresh without breaking the bank,” he says, “but now it’s how I keep things together for me and my family.”
A photo of equipment supplied by Legends Barber CEO Photo: Lindelwa Khanyile
Like many students, Jose juggled lectures, assignments, and the pressure of fees. But his story took a turn earlier this year when his father lost his job, the only steady income at home. Around the same time, his mother began chemotherapy. Suddenly, the little money they had went into treatment.
“I don’t want to lie, it hit us hard,” Jose says, his tone cracking. “Fees, groceries, even small things like toiletries it all became uncertain. That is when cutting hair became more than just a hobby. It became a way to survive.”
Instead of seeing the challenges as a dead end, he then looked for a gap. “It didn’t make sense to me that guys were paying R150 or R200 for a haircut around campus,” he explains. “So, I used my allowance, bought clippers, and started charging R50 or R60. Affordable for them, survival for me.”
Every day is a balancing act; from morning until late afternoon, he’s in class or hitting the books. Evenings are reserved for fades, tapers, and line-ups. “Time management is key,” Jose says. “I know that from four o’clock, I’m in barber mode.”
Jose’s hustle might have remained just a res-room success story, but fate stepped in on March 20, 2025, at the Wits Entrepreneurial Hub. That day, he spotted none other than Sheldon Tatchell, founder and CEO of the iconic Legends Barber brand.
“I just thought, this is it,” Jose recalls with a grin. “I walked up to him, introduced myself, and told him about my business. We exchanged Instagram handles, and that was it. At first, I tried to follow up, but he didn’t reply.”
He shrugs, laughing lightly. “I figured he’s the CEO of Legends. The busiest man in the game.” Still, the pressure at home pushed him to try again. This time, the persistence paid off. After a few attempts, Tatchell finally responded.
And then came the moment Jose never expected. On Friday, August 22, 2025, Tatchell himself arrived on campus and handed Jose a package of professional barbering equipment to grow his business.
“That day was life-changing,” Jose says, shaking his head in disbelief. “To start so small and now have Legends recognise me? It felt like a dream. It’s the kind of thing that motivates you to keep pushing.”
If Legends gave him validation, his friends gave him the foundation. They were his first customers, his promoters, and his constant supporters.
“I’m proud of him,” says Sanele Segutya, a close friend, “I have watched him from the start just a guy with clippers in his room to someone who is running a serious business. He is going far. I know he will make money and build something real out of this.”
Another friend, Baxolile Mbobo, remembers his first impression with a laugh. “Honestly? I thought he didn’t know what he was doing. I saw him cutting in res and thought, nah, let me not risk it. But then I tried him once and I was impressed. The guy has skills! From there, we became friends. I even helped him promote the business. Now, our vision is growth more customers, more exposure, more success.”
Their support goes beyond haircuts. Jose says his circle has kept him grounded, encouraged him through tough times, and reminded him that his hustle matters. “Sometimes, when I feel tired or doubt myself, they remind me why I started. That’s love, man.”
For Jose, the story is only beginning. He dreams of expanding his barbering beyond the walls of residence rooms to professional spaces where students and young professionals can afford a fresh cut without the high price tag.
“I see myself opening a place, building a brand, maybe even linking up with Legends officially,” he says. “But most importantly, I want to show that even when life hits you hard, you can create something out of it.”
As another student peeks into the room, asking if there’s space for a quick trim before heading to the dining hall, Jose waves him in with a grin. The clippers buzz back to life, filling the room with a familiar sound.
For now, the hustle continues cut by cut, fade by fade. But to those who have seen his journey, it is already more than a hustle. It’s a story of resilience, grit, and the determination of a Wits student who refused to let struggle define him.
“Every haircut,” Jose says, pausing between his haircut session, “is a step forward.”
FEATURED IMAGE: A young Luthando Jose holding his equipment. Photo: Supplied/Legends Barber
Teachers claim broad definition of corporal punishment is making discipline in their classrooms impossible.
The BELA Act’s definition of corporal punishment expands beyond physical harm, classifying actions such as denying learners bathroom access as a form of corporal punishment.
Many say the act is impractical because learners exploit it and alternative measures are ineffective.
Vague wording in the act exposes teachers to possible prosecution for minor actions.
An overcrowded classroom in a South African public school. Photo: Nthabiseng Baloyi
A new trend on TikTok has seen teachers demonstrating how they are applying the Basic Education Laws Amendment (BELA) Act by allowing learners to go to the toilet one after the other. This comes after the act classified denying learners’ access to the bathroom as a form of corporal punishment.
While the act intends to strengthen the protection of learners, many teachers believe the clause on corporal punishment has gone too far. They argue that almost any attempt at discipline can now be seen as unlawful, leaving them without effective tools to manage their classrooms.
“I can attest that educators have the perception that the act implies that they must let learners do as they wish, [and] an attempt to discourage bad behaviour will be considered as an infringement of learners’ rights,” said Phumlani Majola, a teacher at Unity Secondary School, a public school in the East Rand.
Student teachers echo this frustration, saying the clause has made it even harder to earn respect. “Learners know we can’t discipline them, and it leaves us feeling powerless,” said Lwandile Ntsebesha, a final year Bachelor of Education student at Wits University.
Some academics are also questioning its practicality. Dr More Chakane, an education leadership and policy studies lecturer at Wits University, said the act’s definition of corporal punishment is “overreaching” and does not reflect the realities of South African classrooms.
“At best, it protects ill-disciplined learners’ rights at the expense of well-mannered and disciplined learners,” Chakane said. He said research shows alternative discipline methods promoted by the Department of Basic Education are ineffective, time-consuming, and not taken seriously by learners.
Chakane also criticised the legal framing and language. “There is a failure to indicate the level of corporal punishment – excessive or normal or modest in the legal definition of corporal punishment,” he added, calling for an amendment of the definition to curb unnecessary prosecution.
Teachers on the ground say the situation is worsened by overcrowded classrooms, lack of parental involvement, and substance abuse among learners. “Learners come to school under the influence of alcohol and drugs … [and] parents don’t attend parental meetings and disciplinary hearings,” said Majola.
“If they [parents] do attend meetings, they too are frustrated by their children. They directly request you as an educator to use harsher measures to improve learner behaviour,” Majola added.
While the BELA Act is intended to safeguard learners’ rights, teachers are calling for more training, support, and amendments that take the realities of South African classrooms into account.
FEATURED IMAGE: A classroom in a South African public school. Photo: Nthabiseng Baloyi
Platforms like OnlyFans are reshaping how South Africa’s youth navigate money and survival.
A growing number of the country’s youth are turning to online platforms to earn a living through adult entertainment.
Agencies are cropping up to help OnlyFans creators plan their content, manage their money and taxes.
Entering the industry is not a decision to be taken lightly, and big paydays are few and far between.
Work usually done under the cover of darkness, on dimly lit streets has now found a new avenue online. A ring light, Wi-Fi connection and a whole lot of hustle are the tools of a new generation entering sex work. Behind these profiles are young entrepreneurs navigating risk and profit, while trying to survive in Ramaphosa’s economy.
Naked ambition fuels a new era
Just as other industries have adapted to the digital age, the sex trade has also evolved. One platform has brought it into the mainstream – OnlyFans. Ironically, the app didn’t begin as the adult entertainment mecca it is today. Launched in 2016, founder Timothy Stokely envisioned OnlyFans as a place where audiences could financially support creators like singers, actors, and artists through tips or monthly subscriptions. The app sought to democratise the entertainment industry, cutting out middlemen that took a chunk out of creatives’ earnings. OnlyFans boasted over 30 million users in 2020, and has paid out over $5 billion (R87 billion) to creators to date.
For much of the late 2010s, OnlyFans became the site of an adult entertainment ‘gold rush’, with thousands flocking to claim their share of the spoils. However, like the gold rushes of yesteryear, not everyone who showed up, shovel in hand, would walk away a millionaire. Only a handful of creators struck it big, many of whom had sizeable fanbases before joining the platform. Still, that hasn’t stopped hundreds of young people in South Africa from joining OnlyFans to try their luck or simply make a little extra money to survive.
SA creators turn clicks into cash
Hoes and CEOs, a Cape Town-based OnlyFans talent management agency, was founded by former sex worker Rhiannon Gouws in February 2025. Gouws turned to OnlyFans after three years of “traumatising” sex work that led to her being hospitalised in a mental health facility. “It tore my soul into tiny pieces that I had to pick up and I’m still picking them up to this day, but I am so much better than I was,” she told her nearly 9,000 Tik Tok followers.
“Unfortunately, healing does not pay the rent, so I created an OnlyFans [account],” Gouws said. After working with four different managers, a pattern emerged – they were making more money off her body than she was. “I didn’t start Hoes and CEOs to be a boss. I started Hoes and CEOs because I didn’t want women to be managed by men,” she explained.
Gouws says the company isn’t a money grab or a lifestyle brand. It’s a lifeline for the girls and gays who are in the same position she was in, “broke, hot, and confused, still trying to survive”.
Gouws knows that this isn’t a profession entered into lightly. “Most people who are in the sex work industry don’t want to do that and I believe that with my whole soul,” she said. “They’re doing it because they need to get out of a situation, they need to buy a car, pay off their debt, who knows. They just need to survive; they just want to have food on the table. They want to be financially free.”
Hoes and CEOs is a jack of all trades, helping newbies set up OnlyFans accounts, plan content, and even track their taxes. “We keep you accountable and most importantly, we stop when your goal is met,” Gouws said. “This isn’t a forever thing. You come in, make your money, hit your goal, and then you leave.”
The data shows where South Africa’s creators are based and how their earnings are split with OnlyFans. Graphic: Mbali Khumalo
An emerging hierarchy in the digital brothel
Unlike other online businesses, sex workers can’t simply up their marketing to attract new customers. This industry is built on discretion, and not just because it’s taboo, it’s still criminalised.
Enter digital ‘pimps’. The companies they run are structured like management agencies, offering representation, guaranteed clients, and discreet marketing – all for a cut of the profits, of course.
Founded by Australian OnlyFans star Mike Sanchez (AKA ‘Mike and His Banana’), Vixin Management represents adult entertainers in South Africa. His agency promises big returns, fast. Sanchez declined to be interviewed, but Vixin’s Instagram page alleges that no model in the agency has earned less than R50,000 in their first seven days on OnlyFans.
Vixin’s notable earners include one top creator who purportedly raked in R278,910 between April 22 and April 28, 2025. Another creator took home R142,740 between March 21 and March 27, 2025. Non-disclosure agreements keep the identities of his clients confidential, but the agency’s referral programme targets South African girls aged 18 to 22, with a R10,000 payout per successful referral.
Stats SA reports that in 2023, the average South African household had an annual income of R204,359. For the typical citizen, making six figures in just seven days would be life changing.
Big returns are rare in online sex work
While the dream of earning millions on OnlyFans might be alluring, massive paydays are the exception, not the rule. The average creator takes home roughly R2,600 monthly. That’s before OnlyFans takes its 20% cut. Sex work likely won’t make you rich, but for most, especially students, their motivations are more realistic.
“We do see that students are engaging in the trade, especially first years,” said Yonela Sinqu, National Communications Officer at Sisonke, an organisation advocating for the decriminalisation of sex work. “You do get older students, maybe third years, who would engage in sex work to complete their studies. Then you get the ‘older’ generation who would do this to supplement their incomes,” she continued.
“The people engaged in sex work are rendering a service just like any other. The money that they make goes towards the economy of this country. These are small businesses,” Sinqu said.
Most creators on OnlyFans aren’t raking in six-figure sums. Graphic: Mbali Khumalo
Regardless of the modest returns, digital sex work appears preferable to its physical counterpart, where there’s more physical risks and trauma. While it remains stigmatised, the world’s oldest profession isn’t going anywhere.
“It’s not for everyone,” Gouws said. “If you’re allergic to commitment or self-awareness, stay away. But if you have a money goal, a ring light and unresolved issues, welcome.”
FEATURED IMAGE: South Africans are finding both opportunity and risk in the booming digital sex economy. Image: Jufomicheva/Pexels.
Four months later, a student’s mental health complaint is still unresolved.
Accountability gap exposed.
Investigation stalled by anonymity issues.
Matter escalated to higher authorities.
When we first reported on the disturbing experiences of a student seeking mental health support at Wits University’s Campus Health and Wellness Centre in May, the hope was that the university would take swift and decisive action to address the reported neglect and mistreatment.
A student had shared painful stories of being dismissed, scolded, and left without proper care during their most vulnerable moments. The troubling accounts raised serious questions about the quality and accountability of mental health services on campus.
In May, the Centre’s temporary stand-in, Brian Jele, a Primary Health Care Nurse, assured WITS VUVUZELA that the matter would be reported to the head of department, Tshidiso Ntshabele, who was expected to return soon. He highlighted the availability of a suggestion box for students to report issues anonymously.
On May 8, 2025, just a few days after Ntshabele’s return, WITS VUVUZELA visited the Centre to ensure he was updated on the allegations. During our meeting, Ntshabele requested that WITS VUVUZELA arrange a meeting with the student outside of Campus Health so he could hear the student’s side of the story.
Later that same day, after leaving his office, WITS VUVUZELA reached out to the student to set up the meeting. However, the student declined, saying, “I really don’t think I want to. I don’t feel comfortable with my anonymity now being compromised, so no!” said the student, who asked to remain anonymous.
Four months later, has anything changed?
After the failed meeting with the student in May, business continued as usual. Since then, no investigation, suspension, or any form of disciplinary action has been taken against the two nurses involved.
Ntshabele said he could not proceed with any investigation without knowing the identity of the complainant.
“I do not know who the student is; I cannot investigate if I don’t know who the person is. Part of the investigation, according to our complex procedure, is that I must also interact with the complainant,” said Ntshabele.
When Wits Vuvuzela asked what would happen if the student was too afraid to return to the Centre to go through the investigation process, Ntshabele emphasised that the student’s presence was still required.
“We are dealing with sensitive matters involving someone’s confidential health information. For me to investigate, I need to interview that person and find out exactly what went wrong, so that I can also ask relevant questions,” he said.
This raises questions about the purpose of the suggestion box, which allows students to submit complaints anonymously.
When asked what changes had been made to improve mental health care and ensure students are treated with greater respect and kindness, Ntshabele said no changes had been implemented because no investigation had taken place. “If I did not investigate or consider an investigation, I can’t give a report to say this is what I found. Only if I had found something could we introduce and implement changes,” he said. Ntshabele added that until he is able to interact with the student directly, he would not know where the department is lacking or what improvements are needed.
Head of department’s office. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Following the May publication of this story, WITS VUVUZELA sought to understand how staff at the Campus Health and Wellness Centre are trained and supported to better understand students’ mental health needs and to treat them with empathy rather than judgment.
Ntshabele said he had never received a complaint that any staff member had judged a student, adding that all mental health practitioners at the Centre are specialists with formal qualifications in the field. “Part of the mental health curriculum, when you are a nurse, is knowing that you must be non-judgemental,” he said.
“There are in-service training sessions that staff members attend, including a customer management course. If a specific staff member is found lacking, we identify the weakness, determine the area in which they are struggling, and then work to improve and empower them,” he added.
Ntshabele urged students who may still feel hesitant or fearful about seeking mental health services from Campus Health, to reach out to him directly, “The most important thing is for those students to tell me exactly what they are scared of and why they are fearful.”
“This clinic is for them, and no student should feel afraid. We are here to assist, particularly those with mental health conditions, because we know that for them to excel academically, they need to be well,” he continued.
Mental health is a serious condition, and at universities many students suffer from it. After discovering that Campus Health could not carry out an investigation because the student chose not to come forward, it became crucial to find out whether there is a higher authority that can intervene to ensure the complaint is properly addressed.
The matter was then escalated to the Dean of Students, Jerome September, who stated that all complaints are taken very seriously and investigated to the best of their ability. “Complaints are in the first instance made at the clinic, and these can be escalated to me as Dean of Student Affairs,” he said.
“Students are also able to lodge complaints through the Wits Integrity Line,” he added. September further requested that the affected student reach out to him directly so he can assist in resolving the matter.
FEATURED IMAGE: Campus Health And Wellness Centre corridors. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
At Wits University, physical and mental health declines prompt policy discussion on drug and tobacco abuse.
Substance abuse, specifically drug and tobacco use, is a common part of student culture at Wits.
In response to this, harm reduction is emerging as a more practical way to help those who are struggling.
A new bill on tobacco and e-cigarette control is being considered as a crucial step in addressing the problem at a policy level.
A walk past the Matrix, the Amphitheatre, or even Noswall Hall, brings the pungent scent of drugs on the breeze. It’s a common scene: groups huddled on benches, a joint, cigarette or vape passed between fingers. For many, whether from peer pressure, experimentation or the woes of life, it’s a “jol to zol” as a university student.
This casual normalisation of substance use on campus, however, is always concerning.
The School of Social Sciences addressed drug and tobacco use amongst students as a crisis demanding new policy solutions at a youth health talk on August 21.
For the SRC’s Health and Community Outreach Officer, Musawenkosi Hadebe, the issue is clear. “Particularly [with] students in the Wits Readmission Committee, we see substance abuse as a leading cause for academic failure,” she said.
So, what’s being done to address this?
In a proactive step towards reducing substance abuse, the national government is considering implementing the Tobacco Products and Electronic Delivery Systems Control Bill.
The Executive Director of Students for Sensible Drug Policy (SSDP), Charity Monareng advocates for its passing into law: “I believe that more pressure from youth voices, through signing the petition to pass the bill, is a proactive step forward towards attempting to reduce the high prevalence of substance abuse,” said Monareng.
The proposed bill aims to regulate the sale, advertising, and packaging of tobacco products and e-cigarettes. It seeks to control their manufacturing, prohibit sales to children, and ban free distribution and sales through vending machines.
While the Wits Student Code of Conduct prohibits the use of illegal substances on campus, the issue remains rife.
However, a new approach is gaining traction. Rather than simply condemning drug use, many are turning to harm reduction, a strategy that acknowledges that people using substances should focus on minimising the risks.
“Rather than demand complete abstinence, I believe in practical tips that minimise effects as the goal is to meet people ‘where they’re at’,” explained Sive Mijinde, a researcher and project coordinator at OUT LGBT Wellbeing.
For students looking for support, the university’s Counselling and Careers Development Unit (CCDU) provides a safe space. Students struggling with substance abuse are provided with healthy coping mechanisms and pathways to wellness.
FEATURED IMAGE: Close up of a joint between a person’s fingers. Photo: Elsa Olofsson/Unsplash
Ntsika, a Witsie joined a jewellery investment scam, thinking she would scam the scammers, but had her bank account frozen.
Investment scams depend on recruitment to prosper.
Scammers use Telegram and WhatsApp to reach their target investors.
Losing money is one of the many consequences of joining an investment scam.
After spending an entire day at the Wits Wartenweiler library on East Campus, desperately scrolling on Wits Library in search of academic papers relevant to her research, Lusanda Ntsika (22), a Wits postgraduate student finds herself cherishing and equally lamenting over the days she would make money from EF Jewellery, an online investment scheme. From referring people to join using her referral code, she was guaranteed a bonus pay of up to R300, without any mental labour.
When Ntsika joined EF Jewellery in August 2024, she invested R130, which allowed her to receive R10 each day for 30 days. By the end of the first month, she had made R300, R170 profit, that is 131% profit for doing absolutely nothing.
Ntsika met Christia (referred to as Tina), the group admin of the EF Jewellery WhatsApp group, through her friend, Sizwe Nhlapho, in May 2024. Nhlapho had been using EF and making large withdrawals. He was a team manager with 700 team members. These were people who joined using his referral link.
Nhlapho’s account had a balance of R386, 877.74, his records showed he had previously made withdrawals totalling R263, 620.00 and had assets in jewellery worth R114, 070.00. He was at the top of his game.
Nhlapho’s EF account with 700 team members. Photo: Lusanda Ntsika
Ntsika knew EF Jewellery was an investment scam, from the overly big returns on small investments, and Nhlapho had been transparent regarding the nature of this investment.
The investment packages differed, with the maximum investment at the time of Ntsika’s joining being R5,500 for almost triple the return.
She made a couple of investments, withdrew all the money she invested upon maturity of investment, re-invested part of her profit, and would transfer the other part whenever she needed funds in her bank account.
Social media is fertile ground for digital scams
Scams have been going on for years. They come in different forms: physical and digital. Physical happens in person, and digital scams are modern-day scams on digital platforms, such as fake business websites and applications.
Digital scams reach more people in less time compared to physical scams, and they prove to be much safer for the scammers, as there are many ways to conceal their identities.
A report byFAnews, a South African financial services news platform, claims South Africa’s suspected digital fraud rates dropped from 9.0% in 2020 to 4.6% in 2024, which is currently below the global average of 5.4%.
However, an article released by Moonstone earlier this year, social media has “supercharged” investment scams. Platforms such as Telegram and WhatsApp are constantly used by scammers to reach their victims.
Many people who join investment scams that promise high, unrealistic returns are either desperate for money, poor people, or people like Ntsika, who know the financial risks of scams but join planning to exit before it collapses.
The risk of losing money is incredibly high in scams. It is almost always guaranteed you will lose money, but there is another less spoken of consequence of scams, and that is the bank freezing your accounts because of suspected fraudulent transactions.
Be prepared to lose your bank account because of a scam
Late July 2024, EF started having massive sales on jewellery. For example, a one-day investment of R1,680 promised a return of R5,880. People bought into these sales. The first week, people received their returns.
From the second week, Tina started making excuses about the system being down but urged people to keep taking advantage of the sale, so people kept investing. She even recommended that people earning less than R8,000 quit their jobs and focus on EF Jewellery.
Things got heated- money would grow on the app, yet members could not process withdrawals. Withdrawals were failing, every member’s EF jewellery app froze, and some members’ bank accounts were frozen for suspected fraud.
“The bank freezes accounts that receive untraceable transactions, ones receiving deposits from accounts under investigation for fraud and accounts that haven’t been making transactions for too long then suddenly receives large amounts of money,” said S’bonga Mhlongo, a bank consultant at Capitec.
“My account was frozen after processing R200 from my EF account into my bank account. When I went to the bank, I was told my transaction is untraceable, I should come back with a proof of payment from the person who made the deposit,” said Ntsika.
Conversation between Nhlapho and Ntsika over Ntsika’s blocked account. Photo: Lusanda Ntsika
Scammers either give you a fake proof of payment or no proof of payment. When EF members requested proof of payments from Tina, she would tell them to go shout at the consultants, that would make them unfreeze their accounts, “she didn’t care,” said Ntsika.
The consultants kept telling the members with frozen accounts their accounts had been reported to the bank’s fraud department and investigations were taking place.
Fraud investigations can last for months, during which people’s salaries would be processed into blocked accounts.
Members began to sweat as they failed to process withdrawals weeks on end, with elevated frustrations as profits kept growing on the app with no means of accessing it.
Ntsika’s group had over 5000 members, and there were other groups. It was hard to know people’s professions in the group. Ntsika had managed to have six of her student friends join under her team and a couple of relatives.
If you have been scammed, the bank requires you to open a case at your nearest police station.
When you are suspected of fraud or the person who deposited money into your account is under fraud investigations with the bank, the bank needs an affidavit detailing where the payment came from.
“During the first month of my account being blocked, my allowance was deposited into a frozen account. I had to open another account with another bank while waiting for these investigations to end,” said Ntsika.
After weeks of group members expressing frustrations and anger towards Tina. Things reached boiling point – she changed their group settings to “admins only”, remaining the only person who can send messages in the group.
Many people are unaware there is no specific minimum amount that a bank flags for fraud. Even a small amount like R200, once the bank suspects a fraudulent activity in your account, they will block it.
Investigations on Ntsika’s account lasted for a full year. After months of being sent from pillar to post, her account was unfrozen in August 2025.
Ntsika blames herself for joining an investment scam. She thought she was going to scam the scammers but ended up in debt for a couple of months because of a blocked bank account. Surely, you will think twice before joining an investment scheme from now on.
FEATURED IMAGE: A picture of a blocked bank card. Photo: Lulah Mapiye
Civil society organisations say, “no treaty is better than a bad treaty”, as United Nations plastic treaty talks hit a roadblock.
NGOs applaud UN member states who refused to accept a toothless plastics treaty.
Despite being the foot soldiers of climate action, some NGOs felt sidelined in Geneva, as talks seemingly favoured plastic lobbyists.
Civil society groups say they will persevere, despite the structural challenges they face.
Non-governmental organisations (NGOs) are standing behind the member states that rejected the plastics treaty being negotiated at the United Nations (UN) in Geneva, Switzerland on August 14. The treaty had been debated for 12 days before a deadlock collapsed this round of talks.
The treaty process was initiated in 2022 to establish a legally binding agreement on the full lifecycle of plastic products. Per a draft, this agreement would address public health, emissions, mandatory finance obligations, production limits, and other considerations.
Last week’s talks had intended to be the final set of negotiations.
According to a statement by Global Alliance for Incinerator Alternatives (GAIA), an international coalition of NGOs fighting for a zero-waste world, some of the NGO observers were unhappy that chairperson of the negotiating committee, Luis Vayas Valdivieso, allegedly allowed fossil fuel and petrochemical lobbyists to dominate the talks.
GAIA also claimed that civil society groups, waste pickers, scientists, and youth leaders were denied access to small group and special plenary meetings due to space restraints, even though they had all registered to attend.
“It felt almost like there were hidden agendas at play,” said Merissa Naidoo, GAIA Africa Plastics Program Manager. “It seems like the chair and the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) have failed to set the table for an equitable and effective negotiation.”
Corporate lobbyists also used underhanded tactics to boost their influence during the talks.
“Some of these petrochemical industries are part of the country delegations. Most of the governments who include them are either producers of plastics or oil,” said Hellen Dena, Project Lead for Pan-African Plastics Project at Greenpeace Africa, one of the NGOs that was present in Geneva. “When you’re part of a delegation, you have access to all the meetings and the other delegations, so they can influence as much as they want.”
Plastic treaty negotiations are at an impasse, with no consensus reached since the treaty process was initiated in 2022. Graphic: Mbali Khumalo
The way forward on the treaty negotiations is unclear. Still, NGOs continue to fight against being sidelined in the tug-of-war between climate-conscious countries and profit-driven corporations.
For Dena, the fight for a robust treaty is about more than just pollution. “The plastic pollution crisis is not just an environmental crisis. It’s also a human health crisis. People on the frontlines, scientists, have found microplastics in blood, air, even human placentas. This is about people as well as the planet,” she said.
“It is a win that we didn’t come out with a weak treaty and that civil society put up a lot of pressure. Now we’ll get another chance to get it right.”
FEATURED IMAGE: Climate activists protest at the UN plastics treaty talks, which reached a deadlock on August 15. Photo: Fabrice Coffrini/AFP.
National Dialogue exposes deep cracks between citizens and state officials, raises doubts about its impact.
Tensions rose during the launch of the National Dialogue at UNISA in Pretoria, where disruptions overshadowed the opening session.
Former President Thabo Mbeki, alongside several organisations and political parties, withdrew from the process over concerns about credibility.
Citizens and students voiced disappointment at what they described as exclusion and lack of genuine representation.
The first National Convention in Pretoria over the weekend was intended to begin shaping a shared national vision and create a space for forthcoming dialogue. However, the event revealed a clear disconnect between government officials and ordinary citizens.
Audience members during Day 1 of the first National Convention of the National Dialogue of South Africa at Unisa. Photo: Likho Mbuka
Proceedings on Friday, August 15, 2025, at the opening of the National Dialogue at UNISA in Pretoria, were interrupted when individuals not listed as panellists attempted to force their way onto the stage, demanding to speak before President Cyril Ramaphosa.
The event began with a welcoming address by UNISA Vice-Chancellor Professor Puleng LenkaBula, followed by a musical performance.
Tensions unfolded shortly after panellists were invited to the stage for the first engagement session before the president’s address.
While panellists representing the citizen-led National Dialogue roadmap – a framework drawn up by civil society groups and legacy foundations – were called to the stage, two men not on the list rushed the stage.
They demanded to speak ahead of Ramaphosa and other high-profile delegates. They were asked to respect the process and calmly escorted off the stage.
The day had already been marked by an earlier disruption when an attendee collapsed, prompting a brief pause while emergency personnel provided medical assistance. Delegates sang them off with struggle songs until order was restored.
The dialogue itself opened under a cloud of eleventh-hour withdrawals. Former President Thabo Mbeki, the Thabo Mbeki and FW de Klerk Foundations, several Government of National Unity (GNU) partners, and several civil society organisations pulled out of the process. Opposition parties, including the Democratic Alliance (DA) and Freedom Front Plus (FF Plus), also withdrew, accusing the African National Congress of hijacking the initiative for political gain ahead of the 2026 local government elections.
In an interview with Wits Vuvuzela, ANC spokesperson Mahlengi Bengu-Motsiri said,
“Our participation will be anchored in the values of the ANC, the resolutions of our national conferences, and the current lived experiences of our people,” she said.
Not everyone left convinced. Wits University first-year politics student, Sekhu Vivian Lerato, said she had hoped to witness inclusivity at work, but the disruptions only underscored her concerns.
“It felt more about political optics than citizens’ voices,” she said.
President Ramaphosa, however, cast the Dialogue in more optimistic terms, calling it “the real conversation” for South Africans to confront poverty, inequality, and poor service delivery.”
Whether the excluded voices will accept that invitation remains an open question.
FEATURED IMAGE: President Cyril Ramaphosa during Day 1 of the first National Convention of the National Dialogue of South Africa at Unisa’s Pretoria Main Campus. Photo: Likho Mbuka
Will we ever have peace and friendship within and across our borders? In this episode of We Should Be Writing, the Vuvu team takes on the final promise of the Freedom Charter: There shall be peace and friendship. We unpack how this vision clashes with the growing issue of xenophobia in South Africa today. Our guests […]
