Celebrating art can be about letting the art speak for itself, despite the artists internal doubts.
Wits Vuvuzela’s Ofentse Tladi doing what she loves most. Photo: Siyanda Mthethwa
As a writer, I consider what I do to be art, every sentence and turning over of a word a new brush stroke on the page in front of me.
In April 2013, I sat behind the my study desk and instead of scrambling through the never-ending Grade 5 maths homework, I wrote my very first story. It was not planned, the pen just kept going, writer’s block non-existent concept in my head at that point.
What stared back at me in that moment were pages and pages of what I now consider the worst thing to have ever been possibly written in human existence. A story about a girl trying to find herself amid her family’s chaos.
A story I’ve now learnt to partially like or at least, appreciate as a starting point. A story that now sits, cramped in the cupboard with many other pieces. Pieces that have probably long cried out to be heard but have been overshadowed by doubt, fear and many other endless reasons.
Doubt and fear – words that have somehow been ingrained in the minds of artists. Something is just never good enough, interesting enough, anything enough to be shared. It’s this constant battle between the artist and the art itself to be heard.
Your “April 2013” days have long passed now, and like the Grade 5 maths homework, you have to scramble through the very essence of what you do, the very essence of who you are.
To me, celebrating art is about learning to let your work speak for itself in its current state. To let readers, viewers and consumers delve deep in the imperfections of your creations and find beauty in that. It’s about building the trust you have in yourself as an artist and within the work you produce. It’s about attempting to revisit those “April 2013” days.
As a writer, when last did you sit and simply write a piece? When last have you blocked out the thousands of reasons your mind automates that make it ridiculously hard to simply just write? When last have you given your work a platform, a chance, a moment to simply just exist?
For art to be art, it must be born, with or without the doubt, the fear or the endless scrambling. It matters because it speaks. It is its own.
AI has advanced over the past few years; having the potential to have its tentacles in every industry and the arts have not been exempt. However, what are the effects of this technology on the arts – a practice that is underpinned by human’s creative expression
Artificial Intelligence (AI) has become a prevalent part of the modern world. It has made itself at home in many of the industries we enjoy, including manufacturing, marketing, and art.
Art takes form in many ways, from drawing, creative writing, music; and the are several ways AI has been introduced to these fields, where it made significant changes — some of which are good; others not so much.
However, I am particularly interested in how it is affecting the arts as I am a writer myself. I have been writing creative pieces since I was a child, and it was always interesting to me to see how I can twist my words and assign my feelings a ‘physical form’; and I think AI writing misses the intricacies and nuances that could be infused by a human.
Besides it being able to churn out written pieces, AI advancements occur in different aspects of the creative process, such as giving ideas for the direction of an art piece, creating a sketch from scratch, and more problematically, using other artworks in the creation of new ones.
Despite concerns of art practitioners about the technology, AI continues to advance. In April, Udio, an AI powered music creation tool was released publicly. Udio allows users to create music by typing a description into a prompt box and altering it for the desired result. This is a highlight of the ways in which AI has grounded itself in art, and how simple it has made the creation of art — this accessibility has been widely debated.
On a personal level, I believe art is meant to be about expression, a means to put forward your beliefs and your thoughts. I think that art is made to mean something based on what the creator felt and represented, an element that I think may be missing from AI-generated art.
Despite this, many other artists may see the use of AI as an interesting extension of their own processes, and some may have even found some interesting ways to incorporate these new technologies into their work.
One such example is Stephen Shange, a multimedia artist and graphic designer at Wits who has been making art for more than 20 years. He explained that something he often considers is whether art is just a picture or a result of the human spirit. He wonders if art can just be considered so because it exists, or if the presence of intention gives it that title.
However, he notes that there are some ways that AI has been beneficial to his process, especially in completing the less exciting parts of the creative process, “[AI is helpful] as a starting point or for filler content that is meant for basic use.”
Dimpho Malatjie, a film and television student at Wits, mentioned that AI in art is a “double-edged sword.” She explained that it can enhance the creation process, but it can also create issues for creators. “There are things that people use AI for that they would have previously called an artist to do, for example, the writing of scripts and even using apps to edit.” These could be considered both a blessing and a curse because it can help with the execution of more time-consuming work.
The use of AI in art is very nuanced, even amongst artists in the field but it seems like AI is here to stay, so it is necessary for artists to find themselves in it and use it to their benefit.
Daily Maverick’s ‘shut down’ successfully highlighted the dire state of journalism, but also left student journalists with fears about the future.
On April 15, 2024, tens of thousands of South Africans loaded up the Daily Maverick website to read the daily news, only to find a black screen with the words ‘Daily Maverick has shut down’ in bold white lettering.
For 24 hours, the news site was shut down to highlight what Daily Maverick calls the “global state of emergency in journalism”. This state of emergency is driven primarily by economic pressures and the rapid expansion of digital technologies. Daily Maverick plainly states there is “a market failure in journalism”, which is culling off smaller news organisations and local metro press.
Daily Maverick reiterated that the shutdown is not simply for or about them – “it’s about every legitimate newsroom in the country that needs public and corporate support” to continue functioning. Without journalism, they warned, “our democracy and economy will break down”.
A screen grab of the Daily Maverick home page on April 15, 2024.
While no journalism student in the country is unaware of the issues in the field, the shutdown was still alarming and rather fear-inducing for some of us. A media communique from Daily Maverick pointed out that 70% of local journalists have left the field in the last 15 years due to this crisis.
A study by Glenda Daniels notes that the number of community newspapers countrywide has fallen from 575 to just over 250 in the last ten years, as small papers fold and their journalists leave the field. Most young people are already anxious about the job market and their prospects, but as a student journalist I feel an almost indomitable fear for my future.
Associate business editor for Daily Maverick, Neesa Moodley, speaks to the deterioration of journalism and its effect on young journalists. We no longer have the privilege to specialise in just one aspect of media like before. “In my youth, you could decide if you wanted to be a news photographer, a broadcast journalist, or a print journalist. In today’s newsrooms, you need to be able to do all three” if you want to make the cut, she says.
Even if you can conquer all these skills and enter the workforce, retrenchments and slim budgets mean mentors for young journalists are few and far between. Many experienced journalists are opting to freelance, write press releases or work as ghost writers in the corporate field. As such, “eager graduates are thrown in the deep end with little to no guidance,” says Moodley.
Spelling and grammar issues abound, and Moodley highlights the “increasing incidence of press releases used verbatim” as news articles by inexperienced and overworked juniors.
This is all part of what she calls the “juniorisation” of the newsroom – a frightening concept for us student journalists who are without established sources or intimate knowledge of the playing field. It feels rather like being made captain of a sinking ship.
But with resounding positivity, Moodley is unwilling to accept this as the new status quo. “Daily Maverick dearly hopes that the bold move we made in the last week will have kickstarted the public awareness and conversation around the funding of journalism” she says. No journalists, especially young ones without expertise, deserve to provide such an important public service with so little help.
Going forward, hopefully individuals and companies come to see the massive value difference between shoddy citizen journalism and real journalism produced by journalists with what Moodley calls a “bullshit” filter, and fierce commitment to the dogged pursuit of the truth. Journalism students can lead the charge here – we can scream from the rooftops about the crisis in journalism, and make friends, family, and peers aware of how our democracy rides on the back of quality, well-funded journalism.
Educators and mentors can be a part of this fight too. As Trish Audette-Longo and Christianna Alexiou note, it is essential to talk students through crises in the field and to encourage young journalists to “[imagine] different journalism futures” instead of simply accepting the job as it is. If we fight now for our future, then maybe by the time it becomes our present reality, the crisis will be a thing of the past.
Trees are one of the oldest living organisms in nature, and they have many great lessons to teach us, one being to slow down and breathe every once in a while.
Feel the groove of their bark on your fingertips. Touch your cheek against its rough skin and inhale the scent of nature. Breathe in the fresh oxygen just released from its leaves. Exhale the toxic feelings that live in your heart. Slow your mind. Lose yourself in the motion. Just exist quietly for a while.
I have always had a fascination with trees, feeling drawn to them in a way I could never explain. Whenever I could, I would scale their trunks and sit amongst the branches. It was always so peaceful in the treetops, and I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Wits Vuvuzela student journalist, Victoria Hill hugging a tree and showing everyone how it is done on Wits campus. Photo: Thato Gololo
I started hugging trees at a very young age, not knowing quite what I was doing or why, but I knew I had found the one place I could always go whenever I needed life to fade away.
Humans are a quintessential part of nature and are a species who have proven themselves very different from the rest, with verbal language, complex psychological functions, and interdependent social communities.
Yet, when we think about ourselves in comparison to our oldest companions, trees remind us we are part of something much bigger. Humans are not at the centre of life — the world can exist without us.
But trees, animals, insects, and nature are what make the world go round. Willow, acacia, pine, oak, baobab, and many other types of trees influence humans, whether mentally, physically, or spiritually.
Whenever I visit a new place, I look for the tree that speaks the most to me, that evokes the most emotional response, and give it a mighty big hug. I have hugged trees with skinny trunks where I can clasp my hands together, but also wide trees that I can lean against without a care in the world. Then there were trees that were scraggy, and others that were so beautiful they stole the show.
Everyone should be a tree-hugger in this era, because in a world of deforestation and global warming, increased anxiety and depression, feelings of isolation and marginalisation, and spiritual disparity — hugging a tree is a homeopathic solution to human plight.
The beautiful, green landscape at Wits University, with many trees waiting to be hugged. Photo: Victoria Hill
Here’s how and why:
1. Hugging a tree is brain food
According to research, hugging a tree can reduce stress and anxiety levels through the lowering of cortisol levels, allowing one to feel centred and grounded. Rashmi Schramm, a medical physician and meditation coach, says trees emit negative ions which science says has an impact on humans’ perception and experience of stress.
2. Trees elicit emotional reactions from huggers
Dr Stone Kraushaar, a clinical psychologist also known as ‘The Hug Doctor,’ says oxytocin, our happy hormone responsible for emotional bonding and trust, is released after 21 seconds of physical contact. During or after hugging a tree, people say they feel calmer, happier, and more optimistic.
3. Trees influence our physical health
Dr David Scholey, a lead researcher on determining the physical benefits of hugging a tree, says it has been proven to reduce one’s heart rate and blood pressure and boost one’s immune system. Dr Hugh Asher, a certified forest bathing guide and forest therapy practitioner, says humans absorb organic chemicals called phytoncides emitted by trees which protect them from diseases.
4. Treehugging creates environmental awareness and appreciation
Trees are important for carbon dioxide removal and oxygen deposition in the atmosphere. They are also vital for ecosystems to survive. In the age of climate change, they are more important than ever, with increased human dependency on these organisms. By hugging a tree, one is acknowledging their role in life and the interconnected nature of our planet.
5. Trees hold spiritual symbolism
Peter Wohlleben, an avid forester and author of The Hidden Life of Trees, says “a tree can only be as strong as the forest that surrounds it”. Human society is very much the same, yet has seemingly forgotten these underlying morals in the face of current challenges.
Trees are living beings that have existed through many histories and live to tell those stories. Through hugging them, one can feel connected to the space they inhabit whilst reconnecting with their soul. Feelings of inner peace, outward optimism, and all-round serenity are just some results, and if these mighty trees can grow from little seeds, so too can you.
FEATURED IMAGE: Victoria Hill, 2024 Wits Vuvuzela Journalist. Photo: File/Leon Sadiki
“There are few defining moments in life. And it is without a doubt, that graduation is one of them,” said Dr Eunice Cross, Acting President of the Convocation Executive
These words echoed around the room as the newly awarded graduates sat restlessly in their seats awaiting the chance to leave the Great Hall, at Wits University, to celebrate with their loved ones. While they may cross the stage alone to be conferred, graduates say the help of family, friends and their academic mentors was their propellent during their studies.
Widaad Mahamed with her family prior to her graduation ceremony on April 2, 2024. Photo: Thato Gololo
Wits Vuvuzela’s own, Ruby Delahunt (left) and Victoria Hill (right) after their graduation ceremony on April 2, 2024. Photo: Thato Gololo
There is no time more exciting on a university campus than graduation season. This year, from March 26 to April 05, 2024, throngs of supportive families flooded onto campus with multicolored flowers whose beauty came second only to the graduates themselves. The energy was exciting and infectious, and it is easily my favourite time of the year because beyond the struggle, all you can see is the hope.
Though the journey to reach graduation is always fraught with difficulties, Maureen Masedi advised that “You just think of the bigger picture and the end goal”. Sometimes the bigger picture is lost in the inevitable struggles in the pursuit of a qualification.
From academic and financial exclusion to something as simple as missing a bus, the help we need can come in so many different forms. It didn’t take me long to realise how difficult my undergraduate years would be. I had left my entire support structure across the country, and it left my family feeling powerless to help me on my worst days.
Ambesikhaya Ngobo and his wife Zusiphe Ngobo celebrating his graduation. Photo: Thato Gololo
After my father passed away in my second year, my mother arranged for his gown to be delivered to me so that I could wear it when I finally finished my degree. It took a year longer than it should have, but having a little piece of him with me made me know that if he could do it in the 1980s, I could do it now.
Though he had previously graduated twice at other institutions, Ambesikhaya Ngobo, from the Wits School of Business shared that “Being an alumni here is a long lived dream.” The excitement he shared with his girlfriend who saw him through his postgraduate diploma expressed untold stories of late nights and unwavering support through them.
Nazleen Plaaitjies stressed that each person she brought to graduation, had been individually called during exam season to pray for her. I still classify my undergraduate graduation as perfect. For the same reason as Nazleen, my family and best friends being present was more than icing, it was the cake itself.
All I know is that if I keep promising to write the name of every person who brought me to graduation on the back of my degree, I will run out of space. My community supported my dreams and for that I will forever be grateful.
FEATURED IMAGE: Ali Masedi, who graduated with a Postgraduate Diploma in Business Administration, taking a photo with his wife, Maureen Masedi, and Kudos Kudus
Applying early for admission and accommodation is the best strategy for prospective tertiary students.
Earlier on in the year, protests erupted at various higher learning institutions including Wits University with students demanding institutions to provide accommodation for all students.
This followed the National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSfas) introducing a R45 000 accommodation funding cap this year. According to NSfas news the accommodation allowance cap was introduced to manage the unregulated costs of student housing and prevent profiteering and price collusion. Wits, UKZN, Rhodes, Sol Plaatjie, Stellenbosch and UP were some of the institutions adversely affected by this cap.
The high influx of students to universities has resulted in a common supply versus demand crisis. More and more students are currently pursuing higher education studies and universities are struggling to cope as according to a 2018 Inside education report, SA universities were never designed to accommodate large numbers of students in on-campus residences.
Ironically, the demand can be seen as an NSfas success, as access to public higher education opened up post-1994, particularly through the scheme’s funding of poor students.
Careers portal, a website that provides updates on career and education related information reported in April that the department of higher education had revealed that there was a shortage of 400 000 student accommodation beds at 12 tertiary education institutions.
Wits has approximately 40 000 students but can only accommodate 2 000 students on campus, according to the university’s website. The university’s response to this year’s protests was to provide 150 beds through its Hardship Fund, which was set up to assist financially needy students. This can go towards tuition or accommodation costs.
According to research by professor Fulufhelo Netserwa, executive dean at the Durban University of Technology, the student accommodation crisis in South Africa is a result of a complex set of factors, including inadequate investment in student housing, financial constraints faced by universities, and broader challenges related to urbanisation and housing affordability.
This crisis is not new, which means prospective tertiary students should be nimble and wide awake when they apply to study at a university and give due consideration to where they would stay.
Unfortunately, over the three years of my undergraduate study at Wits, I have been one of those students who have been caught napping when it came to securing accommodation. During my matric year, when I was applying for admission to universities (Johannesburg, Free State, Limpopo and Wits) I also applied for accommodation, but for some reason not to Wits.
My excuse was that I had self-doubt and was not sure whether my grades would be good enough for me to be admitted at Wits. This does not make sense even as I am writing it. In first year I only secured accommodation a few days before the commencement of the academic year, at the South Point private student residence in Braamfontein.
One would have thought that I had learnt my lesson, but no, I let a couple of months pass after applications opened, and by the time I applied, all the university’s residences were full. This happened for two years and I had to settle for another private student accommodation, Campus Africa, also in Braamfontein. (Ironically, this year Wits has taken over the accommodation and renamed it Amani).
So, my struggles to secure accommodation at Wits have been self-inflicted. I am back at Wits this year to pursue an honours degree. This time I do not have access to NSfas funding since I am in postgrad. I did not apply for university accommodation because this time I was uncertain whether I would secure funding for the year. Being self-funded, I was not going to be able to afford Wits accommodation.
Wits charges R 51 786 to R 109 077 for accommodation a year, for studio apartments and shared rooms at its self-catering residences.
Private student accommodation residences require confirmation of funding and because I could not produce what was required, I was unable to apply for student accommodation near campus.
This is how I found myself living way off campus in a residential flat in Maboneng in the CBD. Rent is between R 3 800 and R 4 000, including extra services such as water, sewage and refuse collection by the City of Johannesburg.
I must see to it that I have electricity as the units have pre-paid meters. Electricity usually costs me R400 a month and I am able to stretch my usage because I live alone and switch off my appliances when they are not in use. Roughly my monthly expenditure amounts to R 5 300 including transport which is R 900 a month. This is a better option than the R 5 000 to R 10 000 rental one would find in Braamfontein.
My experience is a cautionary tale for those applying to study at tertiary institutions to apply for admission and accommodation as early as possible so that they do not end up as part of the statistics about student accommodation crisis. It is going to take a while for the problem of a shortage of beds to be resolved. According to a 2021 Sowetan Live article, higher education minister Dr Blade Nzimande revealed that R7,6 billion has been invested by the Development Bank of Southern Africa since 2020 in infrastructure projects across all 26 public universities. Through this infrastructure project the higher education department aims to provide 300 000 beds by 2030.
No one made me do it, and my family was in the darkall those years that I was enslaved by clay, even when it was my nightly midnight snack.
It started with a small piece of chalk. I was a school prefect in grade seven and this came with duties such as arriving in class before everyone to make sure everything was ready for lessons.
One morning while busy with my class leader chores, I was suddenly tempted to have a bite of chalk and that is exactly what I did, which, to my surprise, was oddly satisfying. From that point on, I developed the habit of consuming chalk.
From chalk, I soon found myself tempted to try another substance: soil, and the temptation mainly came from the smell of it after rain. The soil did wonders to my taste buds as well, tasting like something that I had been craving for a long time. Two years in, and now in high school, I was completely addicted to consuming clay, be it red, grey, white or brown, and regularly bought it from street vendors.
After a while, a plastic bag of roughly 40 grams of clay would not last me a week. So, I would use my weekly R200 pocket money to buy the R5-packets of clay in bulk. Soon this was not enough, and I began experimenting with various clays be it from the garden or the side of the street.
All of this was done behind closed doors because I was petrified of my parents’ reaction. Therefore, I made sure to always be alone in my room when I consumed clay. To keep the clay a secret from my parents for many years, I always kept my clay in a box where we stored old shoes because it was hardly checked.
I reached a point where my addiction to clay became essential for me to function as a human being. I would constantly ask teachers to excuse me from class so I could go and secretly nibble on clay. I also spent a lot of time thinking about clay in class and it was destructive. I became so reliant on it that I started keeping it under my pillow, as a midnight snack.
After high school, I took a gap year as I did not know what I wanted to study. This made me feel as if my life was stagnant, that I had no life while my peers were progressing. I resorted to clay more to relieve the stress. I ate clay to help me fall asleep, and I would wake up in the middle of the night to eat it. I simply could not live without it.
My wakeup call started with severe constipation which led to excessive bleeding, and my skin breaking out and getting pale. There were days where even standing for a few minutes was difficult because of the pain.
I had to go to the doctor, to whom I confessed about my addiction to clay. It turned out that I had consumed clay that had parasites and bacteria, which led to pain in the abdomen. From the doctor I found out that I was suffering from iron deficiency anaemia, and this was what made me crave clay.
According to the South African Medical Journal, the condition I was suffering from, geophagia, is the “intentional ingestion of soil/sand, clay blocks and mud…[because of] religious, cultural, nutritional and medicinal practices, famine, perceived enhancement of personal appearance, pregnancy-related cravings, and enjoyment of the taste, texture or smell of the substance consumed”.
Science Daily reported in 2017 that “up to 80% of people in Africa, especially women, regularly eat clayey soil”. One of the lead investigators, medical anthropologist Ruth Kutalek, wrote that, “These people often eat clay as a snack between meals and report that they could not do without it.”
Geophagia is not new as scientific research has found evidence of humans using clay for healing purposes as early as 2500BC. It is a form of pica, “a condition that mostly affects pregnant people and children. People with it feel compelled to eat non-food items.” Other common pica cravings include pebbles, ash, cloth, paper, chalk, hair, soap and faeces.
I am overjoyed that I am completely over the addiction, because I no longer get cravings. I am not tempted to eat clay even when I see it. My doctor prescribed iron supplements and encouraged me to eat food that is high in iron such as spinach and liver.
I have been clean for five years now and I am able to freely talk about it now because it is all in the past. People get shocked, though, to learn that I was enslaved by clay at such a young age.
The hiring of influencers by political parties deprives voters of the opportunity to interrogate what politicians have to offer.
With the 2024 elections around the corner, politicians can be expected to use celebrities and influencers to persuade South Africans to vote for their parties.
Celebrities have become central figures in modern politics globally by using their influence to lead party campaigns and social awareness campaigns. South Africa is not a stranger to this kind of culture. In the 2019 elections, celebrities such as Bonang Matheba took to Instagram with the likes of Cyril Ramaphosa, the ANC presidential candidate, telling followers to follow their lead and vote for the ANC.
Four years after the success of Ramaphosa’s campaign, Matheba is singing a different tune about how the ANC has failed the country. This proves that she did not have the expertise to make any politically influential statements in the first place because now she is calling for Ramaphosa to resign.
The fusion of politics and pop culture has not served our democracy well as thousands of people would have taken endorsement of politicians by Matheba, DJ Zinhle and the late Kiernan Forbes at face value rather than interrogating their utterances.
Some celebrities even take the baton and run with it into politics, as proven by Donald Trump who moved from The Apprentice showto the White House as the US president. Media reports slammed his term in office because of a lack of expertise to make the right decisions that even saw him refusing intelligence briefings that were crucial for his position.
Brookings, a public policy organisation based in Washington, USA reported that his lack of understanding of the political space made Trump to shut down resources such as the global health security team that would have helped minimise the effects of the coronavirus pandemic. “Most American presidents fail when they cannot comprehend the government they inherit,” the organisation said.
Recently in South Africa we have witnessed Kenny Kunene who became famous in 2014 for eating sushi off naked women become an acting mayor of Johannesburg for a day at the beginning of May. Questions of his capability to carry out the duties were raised because of his position as an entertainer. I was one of those who questioned what made him drop the chopsticks and move into politics and why he was entrusted with such responsibility.
An article in the journal Political Psychology highlighted that “Research has shown that a politician’s involvement in a scandalous behaviour can severely damage candidate evaluations and may also decrease voting intentions.” This could cause voters to have mistrust when celebrities move from the entertainment industry to politics.
This raises the issue whether politicians should stick to being public servants and celebrities remain influencers and entertainers. But what qualifies one to be a politician? In 2018 the Mail & Guardian reported that “Many MPs insisted that educational qualifications are not the key to a seat in Parliament — being a good politician is what counts.”
The South African Constitution gives everyone the right to freedom of expression, but that right comes with responsibility. During the 2024 elections, I would like to see less of influencers in the political space and if we do see them, they should be aware that words have meaning. They should educate themselves about the parties they are endorsing to their followers.
I would like to see more politically present politicians with a focus on service delivery rather than those with a social media presence. South Africa is dealing with crises of water and electricity among many challenges. As a voter I would rather know what the different parties plan to do to solve these rather than listen to celebrities who see politics as the next paid campaign.
Time spent with a higher power is a perfect moment for self-introspection.
The Easter period and Ascension Day have come and gone without me showing my face in church. This has left me feeling guilty as if I have compromised and abandoned my spirituality.
The Very-Well-Mind website describes spirituality as a belief in something beyond the self which can be expressed religiously, traditionally, through meditation or in whichever form anybody desires.
Spirituality has been a very important aspect of my life that I have expressed through praying, reading the Bible and going to church. The time spent with a higher power is a perfect moment for self-introspection and finding out whether you like who you are, or the terms and conditions set by your faith.
I have experienced spirituality as a way of looking within and escaping from the physical world. It has helped me to find purpose and meaning in my life and to cope with stress and depression.
Research from Psychology Today shows that spiritually inclined people are associated with better physical and mental health, lower blood pressure, stronger relationships and improved self-esteem. This resonates with me because every time I have distanced myself from God, I have felt a sense of disorder and uncertainty in my life.
However, the indoctrination of religion by the people closest to us is a large contributing factor to feelings of guilt, shame and insecurity when we “derail” from what is expected of us. A 2015 academic paper says that feelings of guilt motivate more religious participation because of the pressure to conform and to be accepted by society.
This is true in my experience because my grandmother entrenched the idea of praying and going to church every Sunday. Therefore, not going on these essential days feels like a betrayal of her and God.
I questioned my faith after the death of my aunt in August 2021. I was furious because she had always been fiercely spiritual. How could she die? Most importantly, what God would take away a mother of two young boys, a sister, a daughter and aunt from her family?
A few months later, my neighbours invited me to youth sessions at their church, Christian Missionary Fellowship International based in Melville. For a change from other evangelical churches I had attended, I met people who did not claim to have all the answers about God.
Being with my peers also made it a more relatable experience as we were all trying to find our identities within the religion as opposed to trying to blend into something I did not comprehend. For example, we discussed complex yet relevant topics such as premarital sex, how to deal with addictions and how to create a better relationship with God.
This helped me realise that spirituality does not prevent bad things from happening, it just helps one to deal with them with a clear and hopeful mind.
The guilt I have been feeling since not going to church for Easter had nothing to do with societal expectations of me but my expectations of myself and my spiritual journey.
To forgive myself and move on, I have started the journey of nurturing myself through prayer and meditation. I believe that spirituality can die out like a plant when it does not receive enough water and sunlight. That is why I will keep working on myself to be the best version of me.
Throwing around buzzwords such as ‘social change’ and ‘inclusion’ cannot disguise the misogyny at the root of beauty pageants.
The search for Miss South Africa 2023 is on and like clockwork, every year social media is filled with entry videos from young women who have their eyes set on the pageant crown.
This year the Miss SA organisation has changed some rules and will now accept entries from aspirants ages 20-30 years old, a change from the 20–28 years range. For the first time, married women and those with children may take part in the contest. This comes after Miss Universe announced in August 2022 that married women and mothers would be allowed to compete in 2023 for the first time in its history.
Miss SA prides itself on advocating for women’s rights and its awareness of social change. The organisation in its own words describes itself as “a platform for change, a powerful organisation, a leading voice on female empowerment and a launch pad for much needed change”.
However, changes made to the competition rules, glitter and buzzwords such as “empowerment” and “social change” cannot distract me from the problematic fundamental nature of pageants.
I am also reminded that in 2021 the organisation sent Miss SA Lalela Mswane to Israel to participate in Miss Universe 2021 despite the SA government withdrawing its support and that of South Africa for the pageant. This is related to Israel’s historical and ongoing apartheid politics.
The Miss Universe organisation on its website says it “celebrates women of all cultures and backgrounds and empowers them”, and yet hosted a pageant in a country that actively disrupts the lives of many Palestinian women. And Miss SA took part in the competition and represented a country still wounded by its own history of apartheid in another state that perpetuates it.
In 2018, when Miss SA celebrated its 60th anniversary it revived controversy around apartheid when black women could not compete in the pageant, and relegated to contesting in “Miss Africa South” until 1992 when the pageant became inclusive. The organisation failed to acknowledge that racist and segregationist history contributed to black participants breaking away to a pageant of their own.
What does “inclusivity and diversity” mean when finding one woman out of thousands is at the heart of pageantry? What does “woman empowerment” mean when only the woman who fits into a set criterion of beauty and femininity wins?
The ways of beauty pageants have changed over time, from awarding women for simply being beautiful to promoting other attributes such as education, eloquence and a demonstration of general knowledge. This is what Miss World calls “beauty with a purpose” which also focuses on how the contestant will use the title or opportunity to better their communities.
Third wave feminism recognises that women have agency and rejects the idea that women do not have choices and therefore is in support of women participating in pageants. However, it does not accept the gender binary and exclusion of other genders such as transgender or gender non-conforming existences.
The question remains whether these competitions uphold patriarchal norms. The rules may say contestants need traits other than beauty, but at the end it is beauty that determines the winner.
Whether women have agency or not, the objectification of beauty measured by competitive processes that have so much to do with the body specifically, reinforces patriarchy instead of taking it apart.
With the changes to the rules, Miss SA has shown the ability to challenge ideas in nonthreatening ways and by some right, they have shown that with enough time they can adapt their steps to new socio-political and cultural climates. However, it is a matter of how dismally late changes come.
By the time I am done holding my breath for another step in the right direction for pageants, maybe we would have fully obliterated the need for them.
My fourth year of living on campus has allowed me not only to acknowledge and appreciate the privilege I have, but to encourage others to give it a try.
Applications to study at Wits are open and will be closing at the end of September. One of the decisions applicants have to make is where they will live while studying in Braamfontein or Parktown.
While there are factors that are influential for staying off campus, there are factors that are influential for staying on campus, too.
A 2020 academic paper reveals many students prefer to stay off campus because they get to become independent, unrestricted by the rules that come with staying on campus, and get a chance to grow.
My experience as a resident at West Campus Village – a postgraduate accommodation at Wits – would imply otherwise because living on campus has made my studies and social life easier. Bearing in mind that according to a 2022 Wits report, while the university has approximately 40 000 students, only 2 000 can be accommodated on campus. So, I am not tone-deaf to the student accommodation crisis.
I have been living on campus since my first year in 2020 when I lived at Barnato Hall on West Campus for the duration of my undergraduate degree. In my fourth year staying on campus, I have witnessed the introduction of three private off-campus student accommodations. Every year, their advertisements tend to lure in students with basic amenities such as: 24/7 Wi-Fi, increased laundry tokens, 24/7 security and how close they are to main campus.
Unlike staying off-campus, on campus residences minimise the worry of travelling to class. You get to do your laundry an unlimited number of times and I have found myself coming back from studying during hours that would compromise my safety had I been living off campus.
During orientation week of my first year, I got a guided opportunity to familiarise myself with the campus space. It was in the tours of libraries, computer labs and study labs that I got to see the lengths Wits goes to make sure we all have an equal opportunity to participate in our academics. For example, campus is never without electricity, students with no laptops have access to computers and the commerce, law and management library is open 24/7 together with access to its printers.
I had only been living at Barnato Hall for a few weeks when loadshedding hit for the first time. To my surprise, the Wi-Fi remained on. As I was still wondering what I would be doing in the absence of electricity, it came back on in less than five minutes as the university’s generators kicked in.
Coming from the township of Mabopane in Pretoria, this was all very new to me because we experience unscheduled power cuts on top of the loadshedding. Those living off campus are not as fortunate as they remain in darkness during such episodes. This has become worse this year after Eskom announced in February an indefinite implementation of Stage 6 loadshedding, signalling no end to the national energy crisis.
I have not enjoyed everything about living in a university residence, such as when we had to wear our yellow freshmen t-shirts and welcome everyone with the residence’s war cry. However, I am grateful to have met and made so many friends during those team-building events in first year. Some remain my friends to this day.
My experience has been vindicated by another academic study, published in 2021, which found that living on campus comes with a greater opportunity to feel like you belong, a more welcoming perception of how campus is and a greater ability to cope with studies as compared to living off campus.
In a time where coalitions are the new reality for South Africa, will young leaders have the upper hand in next year’s national elections?
If the rollercoaster coalitions at municipal level over the past couple of years are a trailer for 2024’s national scramble, then we are in for a crazy ride with new key players emerging.
The 2024 national election is going to be an interesting one in South African politics – especially for the country’s youth. With an unemployment rate of 63,9% for those aged 15 to 24, and 42,1% for those between ages 25 and 34, things are not looking great for the youth – with some becoming fed up with the status quo.
For the first time in our 29-year democracy, the ruling ANC is largely predicted to receive less than 50% of the vote – however, these statistics fluctuate from poll to poll. This has already been the case across various large metropolitan councils, including Johannesburg, Tshwane and Ekhuruleni, which has seen the frequent formation and breaking up of coalitions, resulting in unstable government.
We are likely to see this play out at a national level in 2024. Some parties, such as the Democratic Alliance and ActionSA, are already scrambling to form coalition pacts regardless of the outcome of the polls that are still 12 months away.
The question this raises is: what will the youth’s role be in coalition politics next year? Of 43 million eligible voters, 18 million are youth, however, only 10 million or so are registered to vote. As history has shown, the turnout rate may be much lower. In addition statistics show that the lower the voter turnout, the higher the percentage of votes will be for the ANC.
This article is not arguing the importance of the youth going out to vote. (Award-winning legal and development practitioner Karabo Mokgonyana did that very well in a Mail & Guardian article.) Instead, it considers a scenario in which the youth turned out in numbers to vote, and the ANC fell below the 50% threshold to form a government.
Witsies cast their votes in the 2016 local government elections at the East Campus Old Mutual Sports Hall voting station. Photo: File
Would young voters vote for a youth-based agenda, and if so, who would be calling the shots in coalitions? The question is relevant as there has been a flurry of new youth-oriented political movements and parties, while existing parties with young leaders in positions of power such as the EFF are maintaining their relatively large youth support base.
On the other hand, parties such as the DA, are not only losing support in elections, but are losing prominent young leaders such as Phumzile van Damme, Mbali Ntuli, Mmusi Maimane and Bongani Baloyi. The reasons for their departures are varied and complex, but they have also pointed to the disproportionate representation of youth in decision-making structures, which has allowed those in positions of power not only to disregard their needs but to underestimate the will of the youth to do something about it.
In terms of representation in addressing this, of the 446 members of parliament, only 51 (11%) are under the age of 35.
In an interview with Wits Vuvuzela, former DA and ActionSA leader, and now founder and president of Xiluva, Bongani Baloyi,said that he believed that young people would vote for those pushing for a “youth-oriented agenda”. This agenda focuses on prioritising pressing issues affecting the youth, such as unemployment.
“Young people deliver better governance,” said Baloyi who, in 2013 at the age of 26, was voted as mayor of Midvaal municipality, a position he held until November 2021. His tenure was well known for clean governance.
With a large fragmentation of political parties in the country – 696 are registered nationally and 1634 locally – youth-oriented parties can pull support away from established parties with unrelatable leaders for young South Africans and play a crucial role in coalition politics.
With some parties already ruling out the possibility of talks with the ANC and EFF, youth-led parties such as Xiluva, Maimane’s Build One South Africa and Rise Mzansi which was launched by former journalist Songezo Zibi on April 19, can gain the upper hand in coalition talks, and to push “youth-based agendas”.
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
