The US ambassador highlights a path for joint US-South Africa co-operation after strained bilateral tensions.
The US ambassador speaks to students at a closed forum hosted by Wits Association of International Relations.
His speech emphasised greater partnership between the two nations despite current tensions.
Concern is raised over the true nature of this ‘cooperation’, regarding potential erosion of sovereignty.
United States ambassador Leo Brent Bozell III walking with chairperson of Wits Association of International Relations, Nathi Ndlovu during a visit to the institution on Wednesday, May 7, 2026. Photo: Hannah Brown.
On Wednesday May 6, newly appointed US ambassador Leo Brent Bozell III addressed Wits University students in a closed session hosted by the Wits Association of International Relations (AIRS).
In his opening remarks, Bozell seemed intent on making amends for previous undiplomatic comments. He applauded South Africa’s potential for “tremendous opportunity” and highlighted the importance of stronger US-South African cooperation. “It’s all about partnership between our two countries,” he said.
One of his main areas of focus was on increasing US involvement within South Africa, underscoring a necessity within three specific areas, namely investment, crime and geostrategic alignment – all of which he claims can be redressed through closer relations.
Firstly, he argued that South Africa’s investment value is severely handicapped by B-BBEE policies, calling for alternative means of redressing social disparity in a way that remains profitable for investors. Secondly, he expressed concern over the country’s crime rates and proposed US-backed digital advancements. Lastly, he condemned South Africa for allegedly siding with the US’s adversaries, namely Iran, Russia and China: a decision that Bozell describes as “not non-aligned anymore.”
These requests are nothing new. Since March, Bozell has been adamant that South Africa shifts its allegiance in favour of US interests. However, this raises questions regarding potential infringements on national sovereignty – a principle that is highly protected under the US constitution, but conveniently disregarded when applied to South Africa.
Picture of the closed session in progress. Photo: Hannah Brown.
Additionally, Bozell’s insistence on fostering greater partnership between the two nations stands at odds with the US’s hostility towards South Africa. From claims of ‘white genocide’ to being barred from the upcoming G20 – the country has constantly come under fire from the US. Bozell’s eagerness to “find common ground” and “put our differences aside” is jarringly disconnected from political reality.
When questioned about the most recent G20 snub against South Africa, Bozell stood his ground, emphasizing the US’s commitment to its national interest. “There’s a prerogative that the United States has,” he says. “Any hosting country can decide who it wants and who it doesn’t want.” However, this reveals a glaring double standard: when the US exercises its autonomy in pursuit of state interests, it is rationalised as necessary, but when South Africa does the same, it is persecuted and punished.
Picture of students listening to the forum. Photo: Hannah Brown.
Lastly, despite the US’s overt insistence of South Africa’s “white genocide”, Bozell could not uphold this narrative with any conviction. When asked by Wits Vuvuzela if he encountered any genocidal violence on white people since entering the country, he stated that he had yet to visit the rural areas and could not confirm. “I have no comments,” he said.
Ultimately, Bozell’s visit seemed less about genuine partnership and more another frail attempt to realign the South African agenda to reflect the interests of the US: a move that not only sheds accountability of its prior offences against the nation but also aims to dismantle the very sovereignty it upholds so dearly.
FEATURE IMAGE: Picture of US ambassador Leo Brent Bozell III. Photo: Hannah Brown.
The inaugural Wits International Vocal & Chamber Music Festival begins on a powerful note, blending music, memory and meaning in a moving tribute to the youth of the Soweto Uprising.
The first-ever Wits International Vocal & Chamber Music Festival launched with a powerful opening concert at Seabrooke Music Hall.
The programme centred on Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem, honouring the children of the 1976 Soweto Uprising.
Performers delivered a technically refined and emotionally gripping experience that set a high standard for the festival.
A quiet anticipation filled the Seabrooke Music Hall on Wits East Campus on April 22, as audiences gathered for the opening of the inaugural Wits International Vocal & Chamber Music Festival. What unfolded was not just a performance, but a deeply moving musical tribute rooted in history, memory and collective reflection.
Hosted by the Wits Music Department, the festival spans eight concerts running from April 22 to May 2 across various venues on campus. This festival is the first of its own at Wits hosted by the department. The opening set the tone with a powerful presentation by the Wits Music Department Choir, accompanied by pianist David Butlin and conducted by Head of Department Musa Nkuna.
The programme drew from Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem, Op. 48, reimagined as a memorial for the children of the 1976 Soweto Uprising. Through seven movements, the performance carried a spiritual weight, each hymn a plea for rest, peace and refuge from suffering. The reinterpretation grounded the classical work in a distinctly South African context, bridging European composition with local history.
A picture of Charmaine Nkuna. Photo by: Sanele Sithole
Soprano Charmaine Nkuna, and bass Thato Morutle delivered standout solo performances, their voices cutting through the hall with clarity and emotional depth. Their presence added a personal dimension to the piece, elevating the performance from technically strong to profoundly affecting.
As the choir entered the stage dressed in black, the symbolism was immediate. The uniformed ensemble visually reinforced the tone of mourning and remembrance, aligning with the concert’s dedication to lives lost. What followed was a seamless performance marked by strong ensemble unity and precision — not a single note out of place.
The emotional impact resonated with the audience. First-year Film and Television student Luthando Skenjana described the experience simply: “It was an amazing performance; I quite enjoyed the show.”
For organisers, the festival represents more than a series of concerts. Choir chairperson Lesedi Masela, final-year Bachelor of Music student, described it as “a high-impact platform that brings together choral, chamber and orchestral performances within one integrated programme.”
Masela emphasised the significance of the festival’s timing, marking 50 years since the Soweto Uprising. “The opening concerts being requiems reflect that commemoration,” he said, adding that hosting performances across multiple venues transforms the festival into “a full-scale artistic ecosystem.”
That ambition is evident. Beyond musical excellence, the festival aims to create an immersive cultural experience — one that is intellectually engaging while remaining emotionally accessible. The opening concert achieved this balance, offering both technical sophistication and a deeply human narrative.
At its core, the performance was about young people remembering young people — a generational echo carried through music. It is this layering of meaning that makes the festival stand out, positioning it as both an artistic and commemorative space.
If opening day is anything to go by, the Wits International Vocal & Chamber Music Festival is not just an event to attend, but one to experience.
Vuvu Rating: 10/10
A picture of the choir. Photo by: Sanele Sithole
FEATURED IMAGE: A picture of the choir on stage. Photo by: Sanele Sithole
Street skate culture is alive and thriving in the heart of Jozi.
F City hosts a skate competition in Selby.
Young skaters flock to the event to show off their tricks.
Skate culture facilitates youth development and community building.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Picture of skater mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
On Saturday April 25, wheels were rolling and sneakers were skidding in Johannesburg’s inner-city as F City Market brought skateboarding to the streets of Selby.
The afternoon was filled with cheers as a group of young skaters from central Johannesburg crowded around a small wooden ramp, eager to showcase their skills. The prize: a brand new skateboard courtesy of Crispy Skateboards.
This was young Isheanesu Hove’s first day doing a double kickflip: a move which crowned him the winner of the competition. “Skating to me, it means life,” Hove says, proudly clutching his newly won board. “It inspires me.”
This event is one of many hosted by F City Market in collaboration with Crispy Skateboards to bring skating back to its roots. Joe Dludla and Rhandzi Rhay, two students who founded the movement, were spurred by the lack of skating events in Johannesburg.
With most events being larger-scale or enclosed in skate parks, Dludla and Rhay saw a need to create an alternative space on the streets of Braamfontein for the youth by the youth.
Street skating is central to what Dludla calls the “core culture of skateboarding,” an activity that isn’t limited to skate parks, but open on the streets and accessible to all. “It’s a very small niche scene, so we need to keep it alive,” he adds.
At its core, the space is dedicated to uplifting the youth and providing them with a platform to hone their skills. Each month, F City hosts a youth development mentorship programme in collaboration with Growing Alexandra Skate Club, which aims to cultivate growth and creativity among the youth of Jozi.
As this initiative is still relatively new, it is in desperate need of volunteers. Dludla and Rhay encourage anyone with a skillset to share their craft– from skateboarding to graffiti to music. “We’re trying to influence the next generation of kids,” Rhay says.
The event extends beyond just skating; it’s a culture rooted in creativity and artistic freedom. As co-founder of Crispy Skateboards, Kaelik Dullaart says, “It’s the music. It’s the aesthetic. It’s the attitude. It’s the community.”
Drawn together by a love for skating, the space has become more than just an event; it has become a family.
As the sun set, the kids departed as a group back to their homes in town; skateboards ablaze beneath their feet.
Picture of the young skateboarders on Webber Street. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of a skater suspended in the air mid-trick. Photo: Jamie Ho.
The Pretoria Correctional Service Museum displays a blood-stained cloth from a flogging and a wooden “whipping triangle” used for corporal punishment.
At the Gallows, 3,500 names are engraved on memorial slabs, including Solomon Mahlangu and the Vulindlela family, executed by the apartheid state.
I thought I was going on a class tour. At Kgoši Mampuru II, I realised I was walking into South Africa’s past.
We visited two museums that tell two sides of the same story. The first was the Pretoria Correctional Service Museum, which shows how the prison system was run. The second was the Gallows Memorial Museum, where 3,500 people were executed. I walked in as a student but I left carrying weight I didn’t expect.
The two museums work together. The Pretoria Correctional Service Museum shows the mechanics of control, how people were fed, clothed, worked, and punished. The Gallows shows the final price of that control, 3,500 lives ended by the state.
We began at the Pretoria Correctional Service Museum. Correctional officer Dimakatso welcomed us and explained that phones and cameras were not allowed inside, and then she guided us through the exhibits. We saw wood carvings and sculptures made by inmates.
The punishment displays were the most difficult part for me. A wooden “whipping triangle” showed where inmates were tied for corporal punishment, and stun belts were used to immobilise them. When I saw a white cloth stained with blood from a flogging, I gasped.
A contraband section held makeshift knives shaped from spoons and dagga pipes, which is why Dimakatso said metal dishes have been replaced with plastic. She added that inmates can study and work, although the pay is little. We ended the tour with a look at a replica of Nelson Mandela’s cell.
At the Gallows, we handed our devices before Mr Kgomo took over. His tone was firm and commanding, stating that we were privileged to be there. He showed us engraved memorial slabs with 3,500 names of the hanged, including political prisoners like Solomon Mahlangu and the Vulindlela family, and I kept asking myself how an entire family could be executed.
The first room we entered was a church beneath the hanging chamber. On execution days, bodies were lowered by 9am for families to view in closed coffins, and relatives were told “he’s no more.” I hate coffins, and my heart raced as I understood how easily dignity was stripped away.
We then climbed the 52 steps to the gallows where prisoners took their last walk. As we ascended past dark images and words on the walls, my heart pounded and I sighed with every step because the weight of what happened there felt physical.
At the top, photographs of the hanged made my eyes fill with tears that didn’t drop, and when I saw the seven ropes in the chamber my heart sank while Mr Kgomo described each stage of the process. I realised that living now is a privilege we take for granted.
We left in silence. Everyone was speechless.
As a journalism student, I cannot separate theory from place anymore. I walked the 52 steps. Visits like this should be compulsory for us, because we cannot report on justice or the law fairly if we do not face the past physically. I arrived curious but I left sad, shaken, and more responsible.
FEATURED IMAGE: A portrait of Khutso Ngwatoana. Photo: Alaistar Russell
Wits Journalism students step inside Kgosi Mampuru II Correctional Centre, confronting the haunting legacy of South Africa’s penal history.
Wits Journalism students visited Kgosi Mampuru II prison and learned about inmate survival, punishment, and daily life behind bars.
They climbed the 52 steps to the gallows, reflecting on the country’s execution history and its human cost.
The gates at Kgosi Mampuru II don’t simply close, they announce an ending. It is a metallic finality that vibrates in your marrow, leaving an unshakable awareness of what it means to be confined, and the fragile privilege of walking free. Exactly at 10:42 am on April 15, 2026, 17 of us from the Wits Journalism programme stepped through that threshold. We traded lecture halls for a space defined by the physics of control. As a student journalist, I am trained to observe, but here, the walls watch you back. An involuntarily warning began to ring in my ears, an indirect message from the architecture itself, “Do not come here.”
Our tour guide, Dimakatso, unveiled a world of “jail language” and survival. She described “two full chickens”, prison slang for the two boiled eggs served with pap at 14: 00 pm which would be your last meal until the next day. She showed us how inmates creatively hollowed Sunlight soap to hide cell phones. In the era of AI, these inmates use primitive ingenuity to stay connected. Sitting on benches crafted by prisoners, I felt a sting of irony, for someone like me, only taught to build cardboard bridges at school, these prisoners learn to build from scratch to survive, and gain skills that might one day free them from that space.
The atmosphere turned clinical and cruel when Dimakatso introduced the “Triangle Step”. She described hot water-soaked wood being bent during a beating, making my body involuntary cringe. My mind flashed to the moment of impact, feeling the sting of a system that once relied on pain as its primary language. Hanging on the triangle step was a bloodstained cloth, an enduring reminder of punishment inflicted on the condemned. I cannot omit this, as it questions what I was never taught in high school. This history was deliberately left out, it sparked questions about justice, pain, and how history is curated.
Next, we moved to the gallows. Mr. Kgomo told us to “fasten our emotional seatbelts”, a fitting warning. We transitioned from the museum of survival to the tomb of execution. I stood before the names on the wall, thinking of Section 11 of the South African Constitution: the right to life. I felt a wave of relief; the 1996 abolition of the death penalty had ended this brutal form of justice. Yet, as we approach April 27, Freedom Day, the irony burns: this day marks our liberation, but these gallows mark how many never lived to see it. Yet, the past is not distant. Between 1902 and 1989, roughly 3,500 people were executed, a grim reminder of state-sanctioned brutality. As I ascended the 52 steps, I imagined faces, some praying, some screaming, others singing hymns, climbing those heavy stairs. By step 52, my chest felt like it was crushed, a tear slipped unnoticed, masking my professionalism.
At the top, the brutality became clinical, detached from emotion. I learned how a prisoner’s BMI (body mass index) was used to select the correct noose, and how a pulse after the fall meant the execution was not complete. We stood where Solomon Mahlangu, whose blood nourished the “tree of freedom”, once stood. As the gates hissed shut behind us, and warnings lingered, I became haunted. The 52 steps symbolise not only punishment but a society still grappling with its past, a past where thousands paid the ultimate price between 1902 and 1989. Is this reflection of the gallows? It is a mirror that confronts the dark architecture of consequence, forcing us to question the true weight of justice and the whispers of history that echo through these steps.
19 : 00 pm, execution time starts. Photo by: Emadul Islam Akash. (Pexels)
We celebrate Freedom Day on April 27, 2026, however, the 52 steps remind us that freedom was counted out in bodies long before it was counted in ballots.
FEATURED IMAGE: Journalism and Media Studies Honours students from Wits University enter Kgosi Mampuru II Management Area. Photo by: Alice Dhlamini.
Power outages at Wits’ International House disrupt postgraduate students’ study routines and raise safety concerns amid aging infrastructure and poor communication.
Recurring power outages at International House since March 2026.
Residents face interrupted study routines and safety risks, particularly at night when corridors are left in darkness.
Limited communication from management and delays in forming a House Commitee or upgrading infrastructure have left residents uncertain and frustrated.
Persistent power disruptions at Wits’ International House residence are straining the building’s infrastructure and backup systems, compelling postgraduate students to relocate late at night to continue studying.
The outages began in early March 2026, with some residents reporting disruptions occurring two to three times a week. During these periods, the residence relies on a generator shared with Sunnyside Hall, limiting available backup power and leaving sections of the building without electricity.
Students say the impact extends beyond inconvenience. Darkened corridors and shared spaces have forced some residents to either remain in unsafe conditions or move across campus late at night to access functional study areas.
Postgraduate resident Ireen Masemula, who is pursuing a BEd honours in language education, described the disruptions as exhausting and unsettling. “The lights go out at around 8 p.m. sometimes, and I only return from the library around 1 a.m.,” she said. “It’s not safe, especially as a young woman. I have to go to the library to work, and I struggle to study in such an environment.”
Studying by candlelight during outages at Wits’ International House. Photo by: Alice Dhlamini.
According to Tyson Mnisi, a security officer at International House, the outages are not solely linked to external power-supply issues. He explained that a combination of external disruptions and internal electrical faults contributes to recurring failures.
“Sometimes it’s just a minor cut, but often it’s an internal load,” Mnisi said, adding that high-wattage appliances such as microwaves and heaters place significant strain on the system. “You’ll have students making popcorn in their rooms, and suddenly the whole circuit trips. The infrastructure is just not built to accommodate such levels of demand.”
Tshiamo Modise, an undergraduate student and a student employee in the residence’s maintenance team, said communication gaps have intensified the situation. During a recent incident involving multiple generator failures, she used her own airtime to contact management after the building’s Wi-Fi and telephones went down.
“I reached out to management for answers, yet I was met with silence and no formal explanation”, Modise said, noting that outages have also resulted in spoilt food and unsafe conditions in shared kitchen spaces.
Residents say the recurring disruptions point to deeper structural concerns within the residence, as temporary fixes have not addressed the underlying causes.
Shanon Smit, a handyman at the residence, suggested that establishing a formal House Committee could strengthen communication between residents and maintenance teams, particularly in reporting faulty appliances before they place additional strain on the system.
Despite these suggestions, students say little has changed, leaving them to adjust their routines individually while managing ongoing disruptions.
Attempts to obtain comment from residence manager Bhekizizwe Nkosi were unsuccessful at the time of publication.
For now, International House residents remain caught between different explanations and ongoing infrastructure pressures, with no clear timeline for lasting improvements.
Residents say that without urgent infrastructure upgrades, the ongoing outages will continue to compromise both the safety and basic living conditions within the residence.
FEATURED IMAGE: International House Residence. Photo by: Alice Dhlamini.
A signage change at Wits University highlights the student centre’s official name, but “The Matrix” remains the name that defines campus culture.
The student centre at Wits University now displays its official name in full, Student Union Building Matrix.
Many students were unaware of the formal name and have always called it “The Matrix.”
Despite the signage, “The Matrix” remains a key part of Wits student culture.
Something felt off at the university’s student centre, something felt strange. The bold, familiar “Matrix” signage that has long marked the heart of student life was gone. In its place was a more formal name: “Student Union Building Matrix.” For many students passing through, the change raised a quiet but lingering question—had “The Matrix” been renamed?
At first glance, it appeared to be a rebrand. But conversations across campus revealed that the story is less about a new name and more about how students experience and define their space.
Many students had not noticed the updated signage at all. Others only became aware of it after it was pointed out.
An image of the map of the Matrix and the Student Union Building. Photo Provided by: Jenna Stelli
“I’ve been at Wits for quite a while, and it’s always just been ‘The Matrix’ to me,” said Obakeng Leping, a fourth-year BSc civil engineering student.
Head of marketing Reshma Lakha-Singh said the official name of the building has always been Student Union Building, with “The Matrix” becoming widely used from 2001. The name gained popularity due to its catchy nature, influenced by both the building’s structure and the release of the movie by the same name at the same time.
“The decision to revert to the original name aligns with the university’s signage and wayfinding policy, which aims to ensure consistency, clarity, and uniformity across campus buildings as budgets allow,” said Lakha-Singh. “The current naming better reflects the building’s long-standing formal identity and institutional purpose.”
Jenna Stelli of campus planning added that the facility consists of two separate buildings. “The original Student Union building is to the south and the more recent Matrix building to the north. Because the building is experienced as one cohesive hub, we decided to include both names on the new signage to avoid confusion,” she said. “There haven’t been any official name changes — we are ensuring the signage matches how the building is used.”
The gap between official naming and everyday language reveals something deeper about student identity at Wits. Names are not only assigned; they are shaped over time through shared experience.
For students like Tiyane Matsheke, a third-year BA general student, the informal name carries a sense of belonging. “I’ll still call it ‘The Matrix’ because that’s what everyone knows. It’s part of Wits culture,” she said.
Attempts to trace the origins of the name remain unclear, with key sources unavailable to comment. Yet its meaning is evident in how firmly it is held by students.
Even as official branding becomes more visible, it is unlikely to redefine what the space represents. The signage may read differently, but in conversation, memory and daily student life, “The Matrix” continues to hold its place.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of the Student Union Building Matix. Photo by: Sanele Sithole
The Atlas of Uncertainty offers a profound perspective on African migration, redefining our understanding of belonging.
Atlas of Uncertainty opens at Wits Origins Centre.
Various artists, writers and researchers celebrated their work during the opening ceremony.
The exhibition holds significance in today’s divided society.
Picture of papier-mâché boat sculpture entitled ‘Mashuna and Hakuna nija’ by artist Onys Martin. Photo: Jamie Ho.
The Atlas of Uncertainty exhibition opened at the Wits Origins Centre on Saturday, April 18, inviting visitors to question the current agenda around migration, urbanisation and belonging in Africa.
From a paper-mâché boat constructed from receipts to a woven tapestry stitched with burlap, the exhibition offers a more humanising lens for viewing the global phenomenon of mobility: not as burdensome, but as inherent to humanity.
Rooted in three African cities, Johannesburg, Accra, and Nairobi, the Atlas looks beyond the borders that divide us. Migration researcher Loren B. Landau highlights that the current scholarship neglects to capture the complexities of Africa, thereby revealing a need to move “from the counting to the feeling; from the census to the senses.”
To understand the vast complexities that define the continent, the Atlas is not only working across borders, but across different media, disciplines, platforms and ways of thinking. Urban sociologist Caroline Wanjiku Kihato explains that this “lets different ways of knowing sit alongside one another, without forcing them into a single voice.”
The Atlas of Uncertainty is a powerful revision of how we understand African cities. It uproots mainstream narratives surrounding migration, opening the space up for uncomfortable yet necessary conversations.
Spatial practitioner, Carina Kanbi provides some insight into the actual making of the project and how its themes of migratory politics were mirrored over the course of its conception.
Going all the way back to 2023, when the project first began, she notes challenges faced by the artists working across borders, not only in physically transporting the works, but also in handling bureaucratic restrictions between countries. “The exhibition did not begin this morning,” she explains. “It very much began in transit.”
And staying true to this theme of mobility, the Atlas will remain a piece of art that will remain in perpetual movement. While it is on exhibition until July 3 at the Origins Centre, it is also planned to showcase in Accra and Nairobi in 2027.
Each piece of the Atlas reverberates with the passion of its creators. Each tassel holds weight.
Each shard aches with feeling. As the cracks of division deepen in our world, the value of this exhibit lies not only in its ability to challenge the status quo, but in its ability to reach where data and statistics cannot, to reconnect with our ability to be human.
Close-up of artwork titled ‘I am the Graffiti on the Cracked Wall‘ by Windybrow Arts Centre. Photo: Jamie Ho.Picture of ‘Strangers and Spaces’ by Austine Adika. Photo: Jamie Ho.Close-up of ‘A Map of Dreams and Realities’ by Billie McTernan. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of artwork titled ‘When We Travel, Where Do We Settle?” by Wezile Harmans. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Rising fuel costs are forcing Wits students to choose between paying for their daily commute and basic essentials like meals and data
The recent fuel hikes have increased taxi fares by R6 per trip, costing students an extra R240 monthly.
Daily commuters are walking long distances to save fare money, resulting in late arrivals and lost study time.
Two weeks after South Africa’s fuel increase, some Wits University students who commute daily say rising transport costs are already affecting their ability to attend lectures, manage time, and meet basic living expenses.
According to Bloomberg, petrol is currently around R 23 per litre, following recent increases in global oil prices and local fuel adjustments.
While the increase in fuel prices continues to place pressure on household budgets, its impact has now extended directly into the public transport costs.
The National Taxi Alliance (NTA) confirmed that taxi fares have already increased by R6 per trip. For daily commuters, this translates into an estimated additional R12 per day for a return trip, about R60 per week, and roughly R240 per month.
A Wits student passing their taxi fare to the front of the vehicle. Photo: Alice Dhlamini
For students who rely on taxis from the surrounding areas, the increase has turned daily travel into a financial strain.
“I live off campus in Benoni, and I have to travel every day to get to class,” says Afrika Mbangiso, an honours in Psychology student.
“From Wanderers Taxi Rank in Johannesburg, I have to walk the rest of the way to Wits just to save money for lunch or sometimes, for my trip back home,” Mbangiso adds.
It has also affected her punctuality and workload. “I am sometimes late for class, meaning it’s more work that I must catch up on later”, she adds. For students like her, longer commutes and additional walking reduce time for rest, studying, and academic preparation.
Nontobeko Zulu, a Postgraduate Certificate in Education (PGCE) student, argues that the increase has forced what she calls a “displacement of funds”. “For many of us, these aren’t just transport fares, they represent a radical displacement of funds,” Zulu says.
FEATURE IMAGE: A picture of a passenger passing forward taxi fare, which has increased by R6 per trip due to petrol hitting R23 per litre. Photo: Alice Dhlamini
An exhibition that forces one to look at the duality of society and confront the chaos of reality
On April 9, the Wits Art Museum (WAM) opened its doors to “Now is not Forever” an exhibition by the artist Theresa-Anne Mackintosh. The art pieces are more than just sculptures and paintings on the wall; it was figures and strokes that represented the chaos and disorder of society and reality.
Walking into WAM on opening night, one is immediately drawn to the vinyl writing on the wall. It explains who the artist is, what the exhibit includes and what the expectations of the artist are for the viewer when interpreting her work.
Now is not Forever, wall of description. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
Mackintosh included two forms of her work in the exhibition. The first being paintings, which are some of her older works. These required me to look beyond the canvas and challenge my ideas of what was on that wall. Ideas that art can only be consumed at the surface, and that art needs to make sense and be pretty. Art can be unconventional.
The pieces that truly caught my attention were three pieces that included figures mimicking the morality of life. These were titled “hear no evil”, “see no evil” and “do no evil” and included figures having had various parts of their bodies, related to the action painted over.
One used the ears to hear, the eyes to see, and the hands to do, and these in Theresa’s work were painted over. It was visually stunning. The erasure of these elements meant that they are no longer in use, thus evil could not be heard, done or seen.
The second form included sculptures, embodying Mackintosh’s alter egos. At first, they were simply appealing to the eye. The colours were vivid, and the figures were intriguing. However, art did what art does best and challenged me to interpret what the sculptures represented, not just to the creator of the art but the consumer as well.
And I, having been the observer for the night, was subjected to understanding that these figures had represented familiarity. These sculptures are recognisable figures, dogs, people, dolls – all things that I have seen, felt, and engaged with.
Picture of sculptures at exhibit. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
The inclusion and coupling of both sculptures and paintings in the exhibition was phenomenal. The art was anthropomorphic, it hurt, it was dysfunctional and embodied the disorder of society, of history, it almost seemed to reproduce reality.
Picture of one of the sculptures displayed at Now is not Forever. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
Even if you wanted to look at the exhibition as a way to distract yourself, Mackintosh’s work forced you to look further than the surface.
Vuvu rating: 9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of a girl taking a photo of the art at the exhibit. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
Thrifting may be trendy, but for many students, it is simply the cheapest way to afford fashion.
Economic necessity and “instant gratification” drive some Wits students to second-hand shopping.
The Matrix’s Zaza Clothing reports its busiest year yet as students ditch retail for quality and affordability.
Hidden online fees and poor garment quality are making global fast-fashion giants less appealing to local youth.
In the heart of Braamfontein, the ‘thrift flip’ is more than just a curated style; it is a survival strategy. As South Africa faces a cost-of-living crisis, students are increasingly searching for the perfect R50 vintage shirt. This shift has turned a trendy pastime into a financial necessity.
While discussions about second-hand shopping often highlight ‘slow fashion’ and sustainability, the reality in hubs like Melville and Braam tells a different story. For many of The University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) students, thrifting isn’t about saving the planet; it is about saving their bank balance.
On the top floor of the Matrix, the energy at Zaza Clothing is a testament to this shift. Since opening in March 2023, owner Ali Monama says business has grown every year, but 2026 is by far the busiest he has seen.
“I chose the Matrix because fashion starts with the youth,” Monama says. He notes that while sustainability is a plus, the economy is the real driver. “Thrifting is critical for the economy right now. People prefer it because modern retail clothes don’t last, whereas vintage leather and denim are pure quality,” he adds.
The price tags at Zaza Clothing offer a stark alternative to the mall, ranging from R20 earrings to R600 Doc Marten boots. The prices are what appeal to students like Thulani Bikili, a second-year civil engineering student. Bikili thrifts twice a month specifically because of the cost-of-living crisis. “Retail stores are just overpriced,” he says.
For some, the appeal is a mix of budget and “instant gratification.” First-year electrical engineering students, Siyamthanda Mazwan and Naomi Makangume, argue that while sustainability is a “secondary perk,” the real win is finding unique items that allow them to avoid “following the crowd.”
Picture of students browsing through a clothes rack at Zaza Clothing. Photo: Daniella Ripamonti
The duo also highlighted the growing frustration with online giants like Shein. Between unpredictable shipping times and hidden customs fees, they’ve started questioning the true cost of “cheap” online hauls. “Is it really cheaper if I’m paying for all these other hidden fees?” They ask. “With thrifting, you get what you buy then and there. You can actually try it on to see if it fits.”
As financial pressures continue to reshape student life, the shift toward second-hand clothing reveals a generation that is becoming increasingly resourceful. Whether it’s to find a one-of-a-kind vintage piece or simply to survive the month, the students at Wits are proving that in the struggle between ethical spending and economic reality, the price tag, and the quality, is winning every time.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of sunglasses and ties taken at Zaza Clothing store in The Matrix. Photo: Daniella Ripamonti
On Tuesday, March 31, the SRC announced a new structure and reshuffling of their council. They added a new representative to the executive wing and reinstated a member suspended due to a rape allegation late last year.
This change in leadership comes after the resignation of the former Secretary General, Antonett Khoza, on February 26, 2026. In her resignation statement she defined her tenure as being led by a “passion for fighting for access, accountability and dignity of students”.
She added that, “stepping down is not surrender”, but “a strategic withdrawal from a position that no longer allows me to serve effectively under its current conditions”.
The reshuffle resulted in the co-option of an existing member of the executive student governing body by the Dean of Student Affairs. Final year Medical student, Nonhlanhla Siwela, will fill the role of Student Development and Integration Officer.
“Whether elected to a particular position or not, I’ve always strongly believed in advocating for progressive change and making a meaningful difference no matter how small,” she told Wits Vuvuzela after accepting the position.
Alongside these structural changes, an update has also been provided on the sexual and gender-based harm allegations laid against, Musawenkosi Mavuso, in November 2025. After failure to reach the complainant for further information, the conclusion of the inquiry resulted in the lifting of his suspension. Mavuso reassumed his position in the SRC, taking up the portfolio of Bursaries, Fundraising and Stakeholder Relations.
SRC President, Nchabeleng Gilbert, said, “We are glad investigations have been conducted. The SRC reiterated the university findings and find that due diligence has been conducted.”
He added that the changes would not impact existing administrative processes.
The positions and their new representatives are as follow:
Secretary General: Aphelele Qwabi Deputy Secretary General: Matlhatsi Mosima Portfolio of Bursaries, Fundraising and Stakeholder Relations: Musawenkosi Mavuso Student Development and Integration Officer: Nonhlanhla Siwela
What these changes will mean for the student body, remains to be seen.
FEATURED IMAGE: Image of the Wits Great Hall, with students walking in front of the building. Graphic: Amahle Ngqwemla
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, […]
