City of dreams and challenges, immigration in Johannesburg  

African immigrants have long been drawn to Johannesburg, South Africa’s economic center. The city is a ray of hope for people looking for a better life, but beyond the city’s busy streets and dazzling buildings, the lack of integration and safety prevails.

In a tiny salon tucked between cafés and clothing stores on a busy Braamfontein street, Privilege Jumo, a 29-year-old nail technician from Zimbabwe, leans over his client’s hands, focused yet very calm. Taxis hoot non-stop, and the air smells of acetone and hair moisturisers. Between brush strokes, Jumo shares his story, about movement, hustle, and hope in the city where he currently resides.

“When I decided to come to South Africa, I was seeking greener pastures,” he says, reflecting on his 2019 arrival in Johannesburg. He came to pursue his studies in engineering, but soon realized that surviving in Johannesburg required more than qualifications.

“The process of getting funding for my studies was not easy ,so I ended up dropping out”, he admits. Jumo set up a business after having trouble finding steady work because he did not have a work permit. He now runs a nail technician business, relying on word of mouth and digital marketing to get clients.

“To get employed in Johannesburg, you need a work permit. And the government has not been issuing them for quite some time,” he says.

Jumo’s words echo a widespread frustration among foreign immigrants who find themselves caught between legal issues and economic necessity. Many are forced to develop their own ways in the informal sector since they do not have legitimate work permits or residency status.

It is obvious that his story is a metaphor for Johannesburg’s informal sector, which depends on necessity and adaptability to thrive. Most citizens benefit from these small businesses that migrants have started because of being excluded from formal work.

Juliet Mashabela, acting chief economist at Productivity SA, an entity of the South African Department of Employment and Labour, explains the role of migrants in Johannesburg: “They create employment through small-scale entrepreneurship, circulate money within communities, and contribute significantly to local consumption patterns.”

 However, their existence is usually politicised. “Data consistently shows that migrants are net contributors to urban growth, but in times of economic distress, they become target for unemployment and crime”, Mashabela continues.

For decades, Johannesburg has been a magnet for migrants, both foreign and domestic. People looking to improve their lives are drawn to the city by its economic prospects, cultural diversity, and relatively stable political system. Data from Statistics South Africa shows that about 1,42 million foreign migrants came to live in Gauteng between 2022 and 2025, with many of them settling in the inner-city suburbs of Johannesburg.

Professor Loren Landau, an international migration specialist at the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS), says migrant labor is key to Johannesburg’s formal and informal sectors.

“Migrants who contribute to the retail sector, service, and construction sectors are often overlooked by the official system. Instead of searching for possibilities, they work together to create them. However, the city’s promise of opportunities is mixed with uncertainty. Migrants are frequently caught in cycles of instability as a result of xenophobic violence, limited access to documentation, and limited economic opportunities”, he explains.

Recurrent outbreaks of xenophobic violence have revealed deep socioeconomic divides that lie beneath the “World Class African City”, as South Africans – many of whom are unemployed and living in poverty – accuse foreign migrants of snatching opportunities, jobs, and homes.

During the most notorious outbreaks, in 2008, 2015, and 2019, many people were killed, and thousands were left homeless, their stores plundered, and their homes torched. Many of the victims were small business owners who had established their lives in Johannesburg’s congested inner-city neighborhoods such as Hillbrow and Yeoville, and in the township of Alexandra, migrants from African countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Nigeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

“I still remember the xenophobic attacks that occurred in 2008 like it was yesterday, just thinking about it makes me sad because I lost a lot of close friends and relatives”, said Hugette Mbombo, a 45-year-old hairdresser from Congo.

In 2022, under the banner of “Operation Dudula”, anti-immigrant sentiment reappeared in Johannesburg’s townships, targeting migrants, informal traders, and foreign-owned enterprises.

Siphiwe Ndlovu, a community leader from Alexandra, admits the conflicts but thinks communication is essential. “We must stop viewing immigrants as rivals. They contribute to the success of our communities by employing South Africans in many of their enterprises”, Ndlovu explained.

Instead of tackling the underlying causes of problems like inequality, unemployment, and poor urban planning, the government’s reaction is still primarily reactive, sending out police during flare-ups.

Although widespread attacks have decreased, xenophobia is still present in daily life. Immigrants report experiencing subtle forms of prejudice in public services, rental markets, and workplaces. “Sometimes you can feel it in how people look at you like you don’t belong,” says Mbombo. “Even after so many years, they still call us kwerekwere (foreigners)”, Mbombo adds.

Civil society groups and researchers point to economic frustration and weak governance as drivers of these tensions. With youth unemployment sitting above 33%, foreigners are frequently used as easy scapegoats.

However, Landau explains that xenophobia is not simply about foreigners, “It reflects a deeper crisis of inequality and exclusion. Migrants are just the visible face of a system that fails most of its citizens,” he says.

Integration in Johannesburg is an ongoing negotiation between acceptance and exclusion. Even after years or even decades of residence in South Africa, many migrants continue to face social and legal marginalisation.

According to research conducted by the Center for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR), prejudice is not an isolated incident but rather is ingrained in South Africa’s system. It is caused by political scapegoating, unemployment, and the belief that immigrants “take jobs” from South Africans.

In truth, studies from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS) suggest that migrants are more likely to create employment than to take it away. They fill labour shortages, open small enterprises, and stimulate demand in township economies.

Professor Landau attests to these studies, saying that, “integration does not only regularise their status. Without proper documentation, you can’t open a bank account, register a business, or rent legally. The system perpetuates informality.”

The sounds of blow dryers mix with the chatter of clients and other street vendors as Mbombo moves gracefully through her small salon. Her hands are steady, talented, and sure as she braids hair. Each braid tells a story of strength, migration, and identity.

Mbombo came to South Africa in 2003 to escape the instability in Kinshasa. She had nothing except a suitcase and a desire to start again. “When I first came to Johannesburg, I didn’t know anyone,” she recalls, her voice warm but firm. “I only had my hands and the skill my mother taught me.”

Starting as a mobile hairdresser, Mbombo would walk from one flat to another in Hillbrow and Berea, offering affordable styles to fellow African migrants trying to make ends meet. She saved up enough money over time to rent a modest area that was only sufficient for two sofas and a mirror. That small beginning has turned into a successful salon that is very important to her parenting her three kids.

“I wanted to create something stable for my children,” Mbombo says. “Many people see foreign women like me only as outsiders or survivors. But we also serve as businesswomen, creators, and a part of our city’s history.”

For Mbombo, Johannesburg is a place of both opportunity and hardship. She discusses openly the difficulties of managing a business, such as xenophobic animosity, rent increases, and immigration visas. “When the attacks happened in 2019, I closed my salon for two weeks,” she remembers quietly. “People were scared. I was also scared. But I told myself, I’ve built this life here, I’m not going to give up.”

Her salon has since become more than a workplace; it is a small refuge for women in the migrant community. Between styling and laughter, conversations often drift to family back home, school fees, and dreams of stability. “We support each other,” Mbombo explains. “When one sister is struggling, the others help. That’s how we survive.”

Two decades later, Johannesburg feels like home, even if it does not always treat her as such. Mbombo smiles as she looks out onto the street outside her salon, alive with taxi hooters and street vendors calling for customers. “This city gave me a second chance,” she says. “It’s not perfect, but it gave my children and me a better life.”

According to Stats SA’s 2022 Labour Force Survey, Johannesburg’s informal economy employs nearly 30% of the city’s labour force. A significant portion of this sector consists of migrants who operate tiny spaza shops, sell food, fix electronics, and trim hair.

According to Mashabela, the city’s economy benefits from about R100-billion in annual revenue from the sale of goods, services, and rent from unofficial migrant-owned enterprises.Yet, few of these contributions are formally recognised.

“They are effectively invisible in GDP calculations and policy planning”, she notes. “But if migrants were suddenly removed, inner-city economies would collapse overnight.”

The administrative obstacles facing migrants in South Africa are immense. The Department of Home Affairs (DHA) is often criticised for its inefficiency, corruption, and restrictive restrictions. Residency, work permit, and asylum renewal applications can take years to process. In recent years, the administration has spoken more about “irregular immigration” and linked foreigners to crime and stress in society.

“Migrants become convenient scapegoats,” says Landau. “But blaming migration distracts from the need for broader economic reform and inclusive development”.

Amid such adversity, NGOs like the African Diaspora Forum in Johannesburg, and Jesuit Refugee Service in Cape Town, provide support like psychosocial help, entrepreneurial training, and legal assistance. Through neighborhood markets, athletic events, and religious gatherings, grassroots projects often headed by migrants themselves promote social solidarity. These spaces promote intercultural dialogue and remove stereotypes. Although Jumo’s and Mbombo’s futures are still uncertain, they are not hopeless.

“Trying other cities is definitely going to be my next option,” Jumo muses. Mbombo still has hopes and dreams of sending her children to university. “I want them to have papers, education, and respect. Perhaps they may be referred to as South Africans in the future,” she says.  

Their words provide a more complex conversation that the one that is often reduced to statistics and slogans. Essentially, immigrants are humans looking for dignity, not boundaries. Johannesburg’s reputation as a “World-Class African City” is seriously threatened by the way it treats foreign migrants on a daily basis.

Despite the fact that the city relies on variety and a strong economy, social animosity and laws that prohibit people from living freely in the city undermine its future goals. According to experts, inclusive migration management which includes access to documentation, support for small enterprises, and anti-xenophobic education may turn migration from a catastrophe into a positive force.

As Landau puts it, “The issue is not migrants. They are part of the solution. The question is whether South Africa is ready to embrace that reality”.

In the end, Johannesburg’s story is for everyone who lives in it. Through bravery, adaptability, and unwavering optimism, migrants like Jumo and Mbombo continue to influence the beat of the city, demonstrating perseverance, participation, and a common goal of creating a better life.

Entrepreneurship is a saving grace for recovering addicts

Wits social work students are working to upskill and inform their patients to facilitate community reintegration.

  • Employers discriminate against people with criminal records and recovering addicts.
  • An addict turned drug counsellor claims it is possible to start afresh. 

Patients from Westview drug and alcohol rehabilitation clinic filled Dobsonville’s community hall for a skills and entrepreneurship workshop, on Thursday, August 28. Facilitated by Wits University social work students, these workshops aim to ensure a proper income for drug addicts after rehabilitation. 

Wits fourth-year social work student, Karabo Khubelu and her colleagues found that their patients could not afford to travel to free government skills agencies.  

As a result, patients had difficulties making ends meet post-rehabilitation. “Most of these patients do not have skills they can use to sustain a living.  

“Those who have skills face the same challenges as those without, because many employers discriminate against people with criminal records and recovering addicts,” said Khubelu. 

The workshops focused on skills such as using laser machines to make products like pencil boxes, belts and printed t-shirts, and using Artificial Intelligence (AI) to draw up business proposals. 

An economic development facilitator from the Gauteng Department of Economic Development, Tsepang Mokgatla encouraged them to register businesses as opportunities are easier to access when one’s papers are in order. 

 “My job is to help you move your business from where you are to where you want it to be,” he said. 

The social workers at Westview included testimonials from recovered addicts in their workshops.  

“I am not an addict because I used, I used because I am an addict. I had an obsessive nature since childhood, I should have known I would be obsessed about alcohol and drugs too,” said Keamogetse Molotsi, recovered addict, entrepreneur and registered drug counsellor. 

 Molotsi’s addiction even led to living on the streets. He woke up one day, in August 2020, after two years of staying in the streets and 11 years of drug abuse and admitted he had a problem and needed help.  

He spent six weeks at Dobsonville community development forum and another six weeks at the Westview clinic.  

Molotsi managed to turn his life around using the R350 Social Relief of Distress (SRD) Grant. He stocked chicken feet and started a food business. 

Through the assistance of free skills and entrepreneurial development services, Molotsi managed to grow his business. From selling chicken feet at a street corner, to a full Shisanyama with four employees.  

There are various rehabilitation centres across Johannesburg. If you are struggling with addiction or know someone who is, make use of such services and turn your life around with the help of people who care.  

Contact details for some of the above-mentioned rehabilitation centres are found below: 

FEATURED IMAGE: Philip Ndala, Gauteng regional administrator of the National Youth Development Agency, sharing information about laser machines. Photo: Lulah Mapiye

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FINANCE FEATURE: Why financial freedom feels out of reach for South Africa’s graduates 

 Graduating no longer guarantees stability. With stagnant salaries, high living costs, and family obligations, young South Africans are working hard but falling behind. 

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. 

FEATURE: The reality of being a car guard in Braam 

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. 

It’s a “jol to zol” high at Higher Education 

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 

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FEATURE: No scam is worth losing your bank account over 

Ntsika, a Witsie joined a jewellery investment scam, thinking she would scam the scammers, but had her bank account frozen. 

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 by FAnews, 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

African creatives call for sustainability and equity

Muthoni Waigwa, producer-filmmaker and Founder of NW+TV Photo: Katlego Makhutle

#ConversationsOnCreativity is an events campaign facilitated by Creative Nestlings. On Saturday, 26 July, the NPO – which specialises in educating and connecting African creatives across the continent, hosted a panel discussion as part of their initiative to empower young creatives. The panel discussion focused on how African filmmakers and content creators can master methods of distribution and monetisation.  

Through #ConversationsOnCreativity, Creative Nestlings has dedicated their platform to do that, by partnering with NW+TV, an African-centric online streaming platform catering to small and independent content creators, filmmakers and producers. 

Producer, writer and actress and Wits alumna, Kirsten Muhammed. Photo: Katlego Makhutle

According to a report examining the impact of Digital Communication Technologies on the Film industry in SA, the shift from traditional media distribution to digital media distribution has changed the arts and entertainment industry significantly. There is a growing preference amongst audiences for films and other audiovisual content to be available online. Content distributed as large digital files rather than physical media has helped creators and producers spend less money on transportation and storage costs of physical footage.

“Phansi nge GBV!” shouts the Wits community, as Olorato Mongale is mourned

The gathering served as both a sombre memorial and a rallying cry, amplifying demands for stronger protections for women.

Students, staff, and community members stood shoulder to shoulder, their candles casting a glow over the Great Hall Piazza in remembrance of a slain student.

The Wits Students’ Representative Council held a candle lighting ceremony on May 29, 2025 to honour Olorato Mongale, a Master of Arts in ICT Policy and Regulation student, whose body was found in Lombardy East after she went missing following a first date on Sunday.

Students gather in solemn silence, candles in hand, during a nighttime vigil at Wits University. Photo: Rivaldo Jantjies

The event brought together the university community to demand justice and action against gender-based violence, following reports that Mongale was brutally killed within two hours of leaving on a date. Speakers included student leaders, Dean of Student Affairs Jerome September, and Dr. Lucienne Abrahams, director of the LINK Centre at Wits University, who condemned the ongoing violence faced by women and demanded urgent action from university management and government.

“It is a very somber moment, as we come together to celebrate Olorato’s life but also speak out against GBV,” said September. Abrahams echoed the urgency, saying the frequency of such violence reflects a deep and systemic failure that requires immediate attention. She added, “There are many takeaways, and those takeaways are going to unravel themselves over time.”

According to Wits student Amu Botes, who attended the vigil, the tragedy highlights the limits of vigilance by. “Even today, my mom called me and said, ‘Please be safe.’ But the truth is, we try — we cover up, we stay sober, we stay on campus or at home — and still, it’s not enough,” she said. “We face harassment daily, and no one cares until we’re raped, killed, or turned into a headline. This is a call for men to hold themselves accountable and for the justice system to act.”

Wits SRC President addresses students during a solemn candlelight vigil held on campus. Photo: Rivaldo Jantjies

Mongale’s death is not an isolated incident — it is part of a much deeper crisis facing women in South Africa. A pivotal study released in November 2024 by the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) offers an unwavering look at the scale of gender-based violence in the country. The First South African National Gender-Based Violence Study reveals that 35.5% of women aged 18 and older — about 7.8 million — have experienced physical and/or sexual violence in their lifetime, while more than 1.5 million faced such violence in just the past year. The report underscores how GBV continues to devastate individuals and communities, with its impact felt in homes, on campuses, and across society.

SABC reports that Philangenkosi Makhanya, the prime suspect in Mongale’s murder, was killed in a confrontation with police in Amanzimtoti, south of Durban, on Friday morning. Two additional suspects have since been arrested in connection with the case.

PROFILE: Chriselda Lewis’ story is far from over

A 12-year-old who never let go of her dream and is now a household name.

After two decades of chasing news, Chriselda Lewis is back in the classroom, now chasing assignment deadlines. Wits University was always her dream institution, but her parents could not afford to pay for the fees, so now she is paying her own way.  

Born and bred in Mthata, Eastern Cape, where opportunities are scarce, Lewis was fortunate that her primary school came to her rescue.  

“I was told that I was a shy kid; however, at the age of 12 years old there was a television scout that came to my school. My teacher selected me to become a children’s show presenter on Transkei Broadcasting Corporation.”  

The moment she stood in front of the camera, she knew exactly what she wanted to be: “I liked the lights, I liked the camera, and I thought this is exactly what I’m going to become.” 

Chriselda at the Drum Room, Wits Department. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula

Lewis completed her undergraduate studies in 2002 at Border Technikon, now known as Walter Sisulu University. After completing her studies, she began her career as an intern at The Sowetan in 2003.  

“Working at The Sowetan was very challenging, as it was where I applied everything I had learned in tertiary education. It was also exciting because I had the opportunity to work with veteran journalists who had worked during the apartheid era, such as John Dludlu,” she said. 

‘While I may not remember the first story I worked on at The Sowetan, I do remember cracking my first big story in 2004. One of them was the kidnapping and murder of university student Leigh Matthews,” she says. 

As her career progressed from The Sowetan, she went on to work at the South African Press Association, followed by Talk Radio 702, then the SABC, where she made her first television appearance on SABC Africa. 

In 2023, Lewis won the Journalist of the Year award in the Television: In-Depth/ Features/ Interviews category. Other career highlights include her coverage of the fall of Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe, the Oscar Pistorius trial and reporting on the earthquake in Türkiye-Syria. 

Lewis always wanted to return to school, but never got the opportunity because her work life is demanding:  

“As I speak to you, I’m in Bloemfontein to cover the memorial service of the police officers whose bodies were found in the Hennops River. Due to workload and insane working hours, I just never thought I’d find the opportunity to go back to school”. 

Lewis says despite having 22 years of experience in her field, it doesn’t hurt to equip herself with better skills so that one day she can be a leader in the newsroom, and to do so, she must equip herself with the necessary qualifications. 

But being back in the classroom hasn’t been easy. “If you give me a report I can do it for you, if you want me on TV, I can do it. I’ve moved into a different terrain doing academic writings which is a scary process,” she says. 

When asked to share wisdom for aspiring journalists, Chriselda says, “This is not child’s play! Journalism is hard work; it is long hours. You are not going to survive if you don’t love this job. You have to love what you do!” 

SLICE: Pursuing a story is a juggling act

Behind the byline, a different story unfolds

The streets of Braamfontein pulse with life, the noise of taxi horns, chatter, and construction that never seems to cease.
But beneath the vibrant surface, my reality as a Wits Journalism student is marked by the quiet struggles of balancing academia and financial pressures.

I recall one particularly grueling night, juggling living expenses, and last-minute modelling gigs to make ends meet. The clock struck midnight, and I was still typing a potential story pitch on my laptop, fueled by coffee and sheer determination.

This is the unseen reality of many student journalists – the late nights, the early mornings, and the constant juggling act.In the newsroom, I am surrounded by classmates who inspire me with their passion. We come from diverse backgrounds, but our pursuit of knowledge and personal growth unites us.

As we work together to produce high-quality content for the Wits Vuvuzela, I see first-hand the importance of teamwork and collaboration.

According to a study by the Student Press Law Center, student journalists face unique challenges, including financial constraints, limited resources, and the pressure to balance academia and journalism. My experience echoes these findings – the financial strain is palpable, and the pressure to perform academically weighs heavily.

This is not only my personal experience but, Kamvelihle Mtwazi, a fellow student journalist also said that not having funding is affecting her studies, as she must sometimes do field reporting which requires transportation money and lunch.This sentiment echoes the struggles many of us face in pursuing our journalistic endeavors.But despite these challenges, we have found a way to thrive.

Likho Mbuka, a fellow student journalist, notes that discipline and time management are key to crafting news-worthy stories.I have seen this play out in our team’s weekly production cycle, where we work tirelessly to meet deadlines and tell stories that matter.

Rivaldo Jantjies, a Journalism Graduate and TV journalism Top Achiever, shares a similar experience. “When I first started, I was a fish out of water,” he says. “But my mentors took me under their wing, and I learned to take risks, push myself, and adapt fast.”
His words resonate with me – the importance of mentorship and guidance cannot be overstated.

As I reflect on my own journey, I realize that our university experience should be about more than just survival – it should be about thriving.To succeed, journalists must be prepared to work long hours for low pay. It is a demanding profession that requires dedication and passion.

Despite these challenges, many of us are determined to make a difference through our stories. With the right mindset and support, we can navigate the industry’s obstacles and thrive. As a student journalist, I have seen firsthand the hard work and commitment needed to produce high-quality work.

Mayor outlines turnaround vision, but opposition questions delivery 

Johannesburg Mayor Dada Morero delivered his first State of the City Address on Wednesday, pledging bold reforms, but opposition parties say words must be matched with action. 

Councillors gathered at the Connie Bapela Council Chambers during the 2025 State of the City Address in Johannesburg. Photo: Likho Mbuka

Johannesburg Mayor, Dada Morero, delivered his first State of the City Address (SOCA) at the Connie Bapela Council Chambers in Braamfontein on May 7, committing to tackle service delivery failures, economic instability, and declining infrastructure – but opposition parties were unconvinced.  

Morero outlined a “turnaround plan” that includes informal settlement electrification, inner-city revitalisation, and the creation of a “Bomb Squad”.  

“In military language, a bomb squad has the responsibility of examining and removing bombs that are found and to prevent them from exploding. This COJ (City of Johannesburg) bomb squad must remove constraints that are impacting on the city’s ability to create the Joburg we want to see,” said Morero. 

For Ross Hooper from the Democratic Alliance (DA), the address was a vague “wishlist,” lacking substance or clear timelines. They also confirmed that they have tabled a motion of no confidence in Morero, citing political mismanagement and collapse of municipal services. “The city needs leadership, not speeches,” he said. 

Chris Rohlssen from the African Christian Democratic Party (ACDP) echoed these sentiments, warning that past promises have failed to materialise. “The mayor speaks well, but we want delivery, not just words,” said Rohlssen. 

Despite criticism, Morero defended his administration’s plans to stabilise finances and cut reliance on Eskom through energy reforms. He framed his address as a call to build “One City driven by its people.” 

No ordinary residents of Johannesburg were present at the address. The State of the City debate is expected to follow on May 8. 

​Lights out: Braamfontein power outages persist

City Power and Braam residences again leave students concerned about food security. 

The lights may have flickered on briefly, but power outages are back. The lights have been on and off for almost a fortnight. 

Braamfontein and surrounding areas, including parts of Randburg, Hillbrow and Melville, first went dark on April 22. The cause, a ‘trip and flashed MSS’, which is a flash of light caused by electrical discharges from damaged electrical equipment, according to City Power. 

Ward councillor of region 60, Sihle Nguse, said, “They are trying their level best, but this work requires everyone to be hands-on.”  

He emphasised how law enforcement and student housing institutions need to play their part in assisting students during this time.  

The outage has affected students’ routines significantly, as City Power technicians work on restoring electricity. Many are unable to cook, while food has spoiled and internet access is intermittent.  

Lesedi Magonare, a third-year Film and Television student, said the outage comes with financial costs. “Having to resort to takeout and fast food […], my finances were messed up; I overspent in that category.” 

In response to students’ frustrations, the Wits Student Representative Council (SRC) partnered with Nguse to provide relief. Some 356 sandwiches were given to South Point and some on-campus residence students.  

“They [students] sent emails and messages telling us about how they are affected by the power outage, and they really want us to do something about that situation,” said SRC deputy president, Boipelo Settspu. 

City Power released 13 public statements on April 29 alone to update and assure residents in affected areas that the issue is being worked on.  

Despite these public statements, the power outage in Braamfontein resumes. “I submitted an assignment late because there was no way to charge my laptop, and the computer labs as well were not working,” Magonare added in frustration. 

“Now we have to readjust our schedules to charge equipment. It was a bit inconvenient,” added Magonare, counting 8 days without electricity.” 

Although power outages in Braamfontein are not new, this ongoing issue continues to leave students vulnerable to infrastructure failures.