You just stepped off the high school train, here’s a guide that will help you choose an accommodation that best suits your needs.
Moving out of home can be stressful as the sudden onset of solo responsibilities begins however, it is less dreadful when you know your residence caters to most of, if not all your needs.
On-campus living
Wits University has campuses in and around Parktown and Braamfontein. Students can choose between on-campus residences or off-campus residences each with unique benefits and drawbacks.
The university offers free shuttle services whether you live off-campus or on-campus that transport students from their different residences in Parktown and Braamfontein.
These services operate between 06:30-00:00, meaning transport costs do not need to be budgeted for.
These accommodations vary on a scale of affordability starting from R67 160-R108 5676 annually, but they are all NSFAS accredited. Single and double rooms with meals included range between R89 326-R108 576 per student annually. These prices depend on whether you take all three meals daily or only one or two meals.
Although the meals are catered for, options for breakfast, lunch and dinner are limited. They are also catered for at specific times of the day therefore it would be ideal to store dry foods or snacks in case you miss the slots.
The upside of living on campus is that you can go to the Matrix to buy food, buy groceries or even access a bank. There are also wellness clinics that can be found on the Braamfontein campus and Wits Education campus. Consultation to see a general practitioner is R20 whereas if you are a Wits student living off-campus consultation is R50.
When there is load-shedding students are still able to study due to the back-up generators. Wi-Fi is accessible throughout the entire university and some libraries are open for 24-hours on both the Parktown and Braamfontein campuses.
On weekends (Saturday and Sunday) Wits busses transport students from the different campuses to Rosebank Mall between 08:00-17:00 for free.
Off-campus residences
A few off-campus accommodations are NSFAS accredited, namely: South Point 56 Jorissen, Apex, and Campus Central. However, with the accommodation cap introduced by NSFAS in 2023 of R50 000 per student, the full rental amount may not be covered.
The rooms at South Point 56 Jorissen range between R4930-R5870. It is a self-catering residence, allowing you to prepare your meals using the kitchen in your cluster. It is also within walking distance of essential shops in Braamfontein like Pick N Pay and Clicks, and only two minutes away from main campus. Study rooms and WiFi are available to tenants.
Apex student accommodation is a one-minute walk to the Braamfontein campus, with room rates between R4780-R7700. Back-up power enables students to cook and use computer labs during outages. Entertainment and wellness events are periodically hosted on-site. However, at Apex students must self-fund electricity top-ups once their monthly allocation is depleted.
Campus Central in Parktown, has rooms priced between R6300-R8200. Their facilities include study rooms, a gym, a laundry, and an outdoor soccer field. It is a self-catering residence with nearby fast-food restaurants. It is opposite the Wits Business School and a short walking distance from Wits Education campus where the Wits buses pick up and drop off students.
There is not a shopping centre near Campus Central that you can walk to, however you can use the Wits shuttle services to travel to Bramfontein where you can find a Food Lovers Market and Pick n Pay for more specific grocery items.
Living on your own straight out of high school is a major life transition, filled with excitement, independence, and new responsibilities. Finding the right accommodation can play a crucial role in ensuring a smooth adjustment to this new chapter. Whether you prioritize affordability, location, or amenities, taking the time to research and weigh your options will help you make the best choice for your lifestyle and budget.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of the reception at the Campus Central accommodation in Parktown. Photo by: Katlego Mtshali
From the highs of lifting the Africa Cup of Nations at the FNB stadium to the lows of a false celebration in Nelspruit in 2012 when Pitso Mosimane’s team thought they had qualified for the finals after misreading the rules, South Africa’s football development has experienced mixed fortunes since 1994.
The year is 1996. The FNB Stadium is filled to the brim with a crowd of screaming fans, all different races and genders, but all adorned in South Africa’s bright green and yellow. Banners fly and the stadium shakes with the sheer force of the home crowd. Bafana Bafana have just become the champions of Africa. Football has done the impossible and brought a troubled nation together. The country’s first footballing victory under democracy could be something straight out of a movie.
In the years preceding this victory, the thought of a multiracial crowd cheering for the country’s football team seemed unimaginable; in the years since, the same may still be said. 2024 marks 30 years since South Africa gained freedom from the oppressive apartheid regime. 1994 marked the end of an era of segregation and mistreatment, ushering in what was meant to be an age of reconciliation and unity. The transition to a democratic country meant that all aspects of life were set to change, from education to policy – and even sports. Football did not escape this transition and faced its own fair share of transformation in attempts to truly reflect the ‘new South Africa’.
Football has always been a massive part of South African culture. Like many other sports it is seemingly a perfect way to unite a nation. However, due to the apartheid regime, South Africa has not always experienced the benefits of footballing unity.
The streets of Johannesburg have seen the soles of a million shoes and just as many soccer boots. From Doctor Khumalo to Relebohile Mofokeng, football fields across the city have seen the growth of the sport and its players alike.
A group of boys at an afternoon training session in Sandton, Johannesburg. Photo: Kamogelo Kungwane
Football in South Africa before 1994
In South Africa, football goes by many names: ‘football’, ‘soccer’ and ‘diski’, to name a few. Its many monikers denote the reach of the sport countrywide. Before the onset of democracy in 1994, football was still a widely played sport, but it was structured very differently to how it is now.
The divisions in South African society during this time applied to more than just where to eat or where to shop: they placed black, Coloured, and Indian footballers at the foot of the banquet table, left to eat the crumbs from their white colleagues. They could not play alongside white players, rent out football fields or, sometimes, earn money for playing. This made football political, forcing these groups to fight against this mistreatment by forming the South African Soccer Federation in 1951.
During this time, the violence in South Africa was all-consuming and in 1961 the international community placed a sports boycott on South Africa. This left the country out of international tournaments and forced competition inwards, allowing for the growth of local football. The formation of teams like Kaizer Chiefs, Moroka Swallows and Orlando Pirates was a light in the dark, illuminating the future of football for black South Africans. These clubs forged a new path for the sport to develop in their communities. This culture created the National Soccer League (NSL), which followed non-racial policies and advocated for the sports boycott to continue. These policies ultimately built the South African Football Association (SAFA), which would go on to govern football across the country to this day.
These developments and the end of apartheid led to one of the country’s biggest footballing moments: the 1996 Africa Cup of Nations (Afcon).
Bafana Bafana and AFCON 1996
At the 1996 Afcon final the excitement of the home crowd was palpable; the stadium packed to the rafters with every kind of South African. Race did not matter when the country was at the cusp of such an iconic moment and the diversity in the team drove this point home.
This integrated South African national team was formed in 1992 after a 1-0 victory against Cameroon, a year before the end of the sports boycott. The Afcon victory was a step in the right direction for South African football; a beacon of light for a unified country after a time of struggle. This era showed the country’s ability to dominate in the footballing world – a motivation to players across the country.
One such player was Joel ‘Fire’ Masilela.
Masilela is a legend of South African football, and his national team debut came just two years after the Afcon win. He still thinks highly of his time in the Bafana Bafana squad. “It was an honour and privilege for each and every player when you were called to represent your country,” he says.
Masilela went on to forge an amazing career, playing for top-flight Premier Soccer League (PSL) teams like Mamelodi Sundowns until his retirement in 2004. He has since become a development football coach, honing the skills of young players so they can one day walk the path he illuminated.
‘No DNA, just RSA’
On the football field, South Africa seemed to be taking giant leaps forward and zero steps back: the winning streak was undeniable. When Bafana Bafana was able to participate in international competitions, local teams followed suit and played in international club competitions.
In 1995, Orlando Pirates won the CAF African Champions Cup, which featured clubs from around Africa. Orlando Pirates was the first team from Johannesburg to win this trophy. Its squad embodied the new multicultural approach, including wo white players, Gavin Lane and Mark Fish, a Coloured player called Brandon Silent, and a lineup of black players. At this point, there was ‘no DNA, just RSA’ because the wins kept on coming.
In the wake of Bafana Bafana’s Afcon victory, smaller local football clubs were also beginning to improve and adapt to the multiracial culture that the country was moving towards and, in 1996, the South African PSL was formed.
A sign at the PSL Head Office in Johannesburg. Photo: Kamogelo Kungwane
These strides forward seemingly marked the beginning of a fruitful and exciting time for South African football and local Johannesburg clubs, but the success did not last for too much longer. Since Afcon 1996, South Africa has qualified for only a few international competitions, but has not won any more trophies. Bafana Bafana has failed to make an impact in the World Cup beyond their participation in 1998 and 2002 and their default qualification in 2010 as hosts. A seemingly strong national team was reduced to pieces as a result of lack of development.
Although the country was facing trouble on the international football stage, club football continued to improve. The PSL continued to grow, and its increasing commercial power made it a lucrative field for sponsors, players and media partners.
The economy of football
Money makes the world go round, and that is still true on the football field. The business of football is a profitable endeavour: football teams and leagues can make money from sponsorships, broadcast rights and ticket sales. With the inception of the PSL in 1996, the league received a title sponsorship from Castle Lager. This enabled the league to pay teams, secure venues and cover operational costs to keep the league running. At a team level, clubs make their money from ticket and merchandise sales, as well as sponsorships.
Football is an economy booster because of the other businesses that benefit from its operations. From the women who spend hours cooking meals to sell outside stadiums, to the hotels that sell out during cup finals, football offers a lot of money to the surrounding community. However, it may not always be profitable.
It is no secret that in South Africa football is a predominantly black sport. From the coaches to the players to the supporters, the majority of the industry is carried on the backs of black people. Economically, this may pose a challenge because black people in South Africa tend to be the most impoverished. This is a direct contrast to sports with more support from white people, like rugby or cricket, which can make more money due to their spectators’ class.
PSL chief operating officer Ronnie Schloss says the league is aware its audience may not be as affluent as supporters of other sports and that it prices the games more fairly. “We can’t do what rugby does, because the majority of our spectators can’t afford it,” Schloss says. He emphasises that football is a big part of the black community and the PSL believes that it owes it to them to make the game accessible.
Johannesburg’s role in football
Johannesburg is a big part of South African footballing culture. Of the 43 football stadiums in the country, 13 of them are in the greater Johannesburg area. The city is home to numerous football clubs and has been for decades. Orlando Pirates, Kaizer Chiefs and Moroka Swallows are just a few of the legendary teams that paved the way for the game to flourish in South Africa.
Orlando Pirates was founded in Orlando, Soweto in 1937 and has solidified itself as a core part of the football legacy of Johannesburg and South Africa at large. The club has provided many of its stars to the national team and has been a decisive marker in the development of football in South Africa. Their Soweto rivals, Kaizer Chiefs, have managed a similar feat from before1994 to beyond. This marks Johannesburg as a centre for football in South Africa, with just these two clubs having more than 10 million fans and 130 trophies between them.
Both clubs have invested heavily in developing young footballers by founding their own academies and Pirates even host their own youth football tournament, called the Pirates Cup.
Astroturf football training facilities in Sandton, Johannesburg. Photo: Kamogelo KungwaneA group huddle before the beginning of a training session. Photo: Kamogelo Kungwane
Kaizer Chiefs’ corporate communications officer, Vina Maphosa, explains how the club approaches development. “We develop players to not only be footballers: we encourage them to study and go to school… Football and footballers impact society because people look up to them and they are celebrated in communities,” he says.
This holistic approach to development is meant to create well-rounded players who can add positively to society, while still dominating the football field. In recent years, football development has become a big priority. In 2017, SAFA Gauteng launched the Gauteng Development League (GDL), which currently consists of 18 clubs per age group. The GDL is the top flight for development football in Gauteng, and 12 of the 18 teams are based in Johannesburg, once again highlighting the city’s footballing dominance, even at the development level.
What does football’s future hold?
Football seems to be experiencing growth in both support and performance. According to Eighty20, in the past year, 5 million South Africans have watched a football match in some capacity. This shows the level of support people are giving to the sport, which is important given how integral this is to the economy of the game. These numbers are further bolstered by the PSL’s viewership reaching new heights in the 2023-24 season, with the Premiership being the most-watched sporting event by South Africans, apart from Afcon 2023.
South Africa also experienced a high in their performance in Afcon 2023, placing third after a string of impressive displays. The team showed renewed confidence and a stronger performance than in other recent international competitions. This is likely due to growing financial investments in football and youth development. Many of the players in the squad were from youth development clubs in Johannesburg and the quality of football is set to increase further with more investment in youth development.
The football landscape in Johannesburg and South Africa at large has evolved since 1994 and this looks likely to continue in the coming years. Schloss shares the PSL’s goals for South African football in the future. “We are currently ranked in the top leagues in the world from an administration point of view,” he says. “Our biggest goal is to try and encourage that the standard of play is improved, the standard of officiating is improved, and we can get to a situation where the clubs own their own grounds… because none of them owns their own stadiums.”
These are simple goals, but they reflect an intention to see football continue its upward trajectory and solidify itself as an integral part of South African culture.
Football can be considered the heart and soul of South Africa’s community. It has become a cornerstone for the black community in Johannesburg and the country at large. But recognising black people as the core of South African football places a slight damper on the magic of the moment at the widely celebrated 1996 Afcon victory. Seeing a sea of different races gathered to support a predominantly black sport seems as far-fetched now as it must have back then. Despite this, it is still incredible to note the legacies of Johannesburg’s teams, the growth of football among the public, and the promising future that continues to be built for the beautiful game.
FEATURED IMAGE: A group of young people at their football training session. Photo: Kamogelo Kungwane
Thirty years since the dawn of democracy, inequality still lingers beneath Johannesburg’s surface, with township residents often marginalised from the city’s wealth. Despite systemic barriers, individuals in these communities are carving their own paths to a better life.
In Johannesburg, the city of gold, the promise of economic prosperity has long been out of reach for many people. Thirty years into democracy, inequality still lingers beneath the surface, with township residents often on the margins of the city’s wealth. But against these odds, people in the townships are making their own paths to a better life. This investigation delves into how, despite systemic barriers, township residents are creating economic opportunities and reshaping their communities from within.Under apartheid, Johannesburg’s wealth was reserved for a select few and the city’s Black population was subjected to harsh restrictions like the Native Labour Regulation Act of 1911. This law required Black workers to carry passbooks, limiting their movement and employment opportunities. As the city’s economy flourished, Black people were trapped in poverty, unable to share in the wealth that their labour helped to create.
Building a life from nothing
Beauty Mkhari, a street vendor in Orlando East. Photo: Lona Sokanyile
Olagh Thandi Shabangu (52) sits on her stoep in Daveyton, remembering her journey from Mozambique to South Africa in the late ’90s with mixed emotions. “I came to this country with nothing but the clothes on my back,” she recalls, her voice steady, yet laced with memories of struggle. “It wasn’t easy.”
Arriving in South Africa as apartheid was nearing its end, Shabangu faced overwhelming odds as a foreign national without formal documentation. “Getting a job was almost impossible,” she says. “I didn’t have papers, so no one would hire me in the city. The police would stop me, but I always managed to escape. It was hard to be both a woman and a foreigner in those days.”
Shabangu found work on a secluded farm, far from the prying eyes of law enforcement. “The farmer didn’t care where we came from, as long as we did the work. We worked in the meat department, making sure it didn’t spoil. That was my life for a while. We were away from the city, hidden from the police, but also far from any real opportunities.”
The arrival of democracy brought a chance for change. When Shabangu finally gained her South African citizenship, she describes it as “a breath of fresh air”. But her struggles to find sustainable employment continued. “I had no formal education and it was difficult to compete,” she says. “While many men went to work in the mines, township women had few opportunities.”
With her new documentation, Shabangu used her experience in the meat industry to secure a job at a store called Meat and More, which has since become OBC, in Daveyton. “I thought I had made it,” she laughs, shaking her head. “But even when I was promoted, the salary wasn’t enough. I was raising two kids as the breadwinner, and I realised I needed more.”
That’s when Olagh decided to take her future into her own hands. Drawing from her family’s entrepreneurial spirit, she became a street vendor, selling fruits and vegetables. “I grew up in a business-minded family,” she says. “So, I knew that was the path for me, and I need to think of ways to survive to raise my children.”
Her two children are now the pride of her life. “My son is a postgraduate and my daughter just started her first year of university this year. When I look at them, I see the change democracy has brought. Back then, Black people couldn’t even dream of becoming professionals like doctors or engineers, but now, we have broken those barriers.”
As Shabangu reflects on the years gone by, she recognises the progress, but remains grounded in the reality of the struggle. “There’s change, yes. But we must fight for our place in this world. I built my life with my own hand, and that’s something I’m proud of.”
From the apartheid years to the promise of democracy Shabangu has seen it all. Her story is a testament to the power of perseverance and the importance of taking control of one’s destiny. “We’ve come far,” she says, “but the journey is far from over.”
Street of Olando East in Soweto. Photo: Lona Sokanyile
The democratic promise: 30 years later
When democracy arrived in 1994, it brought with it a wave of optimism. The ANC, under Nelson Mandela’s leadership, promised to dismantle the economic and social injustices that had defined Johannesburg’s past. Job creation was one of the golden promises. Johannesburg’s role as an economic hub has remained central to the country’s development. The ANC’s manifesto was clear: building a dynamic and growing economy that would prioritise employment, housing and education.
Today, 30 years into democracy, Johannesburg still holds its place as South Africa’s financial capital. The city is home to high buildings that pierce the sky and bustling markets line the streets, but for many of its residents the dream of economic equality remains distant.The latest Quarterly Labour Force Survey from Statistics South Africa shows that unemployment in Gauteng, where Johannesburg is located, has risen to 39.2% in the second quarter of 2024, up from 38.9% earlier in the year.
Unemployment is particularly severe, with nearly half of the city’s labour force struggling to find work. This paints a grim picture, as Johannesburg’s reputation as an economic hub contrasts sharply with the lived reality of its residents. In the city’s sprawling townships and inner-city neighborhoods, job seekers are faced with limited opportunities. The unemployment rate represents more than just statistics: it tells the stories of skilled graduates unable to secure work and families left without a breadwinner. Despite the wealth that still flows through the city, many people feel that the promise of democracy has not been fully achieved.
Township entrepreneurs: Struggle and resilience
Growing up in Mabopane, north of Pretoria, Thabang Mothibe (26) experienced the challenges that many young people face today. Raised by parents determined to make ends meet, he witnessed the weight of economic strain from a young age. After completing his mechanical engineering studies at Tshwane South College, Mothibe was confronted by the harsh reality of South Africa’s job market. Like many Black graduates, he found himself without opportunities, staring down the same hardships that democracy had promised to overcome.
Yet, Mothibe’s story is one of resilience and reinvention. During his studies, he realised that there was more to life than chasing a paycheck. Acknowledging his disadvantaged background, he knew he would have to make his own way. In 2020, during the height of the covid-19 pandemic, Mothibe took his first steps into the world of entrepreneurship – an ambitious leap into the insurance industry. But the pandemic brought immense challenges, particularly for young entrepreneurs like him.
The pandemic forced Mothibe to go back to the drawing board. Undeterred by setbacks, he began another venture, selling meat to stokvels in Mamelodi and Orange Farm. “I knew I had to make sure my dreams as an entrepreneur didn’t die,” he said. However, the learning curve in this industry was exceptionally steep. He had to buy equipment to ensure that the meat was transported safely in refrigerated coolers. In addition, load-shedding exacerbated his challenges. “My customers started complaining about the smell of the meat,” Mothibe says, leading him to make the difficult decision to stop this hustle.
Mothibe’s experience mirrors the broader struggles of many young people in Johannesburg, where high unemployment and daily economic challenges persist. Despite his efforts and the resilience shown by many people like him, the dream of economic equality promised by democracy remains elusive. For many people, the high-rises and stock exchange of Johannesburg are symbols of an economy they are yet to fully participate in.
Thirty years later, the democratic promise feels like a distant memory. For entrepreneurs like Mothibe, it’s not only about navigating the pressures of running a business, but surviving in a system where opportunities are unevenly distributed. Yet, like many of his peers, Mothibe continues to hold onto hope. His journey may not have gone as planned, but his determination reflects the spirit of a generation that refuses to let the promise of democracy die. After several of his entrepreneurial ventures failed, Mothibe faced a critical moment, one in which many people might have lost hope. But instead of surrendering to defeat, he reached out to Aubrey Maphata, a seasoned business owner in the construction industry.
Maphata took Mothibe under his wing, offering mentorship and guidance. With time, Thabang not only found his footing in the construction sector but thrived. Today, he runs his own company, Gree and Meca, in Johannesburg, a testament to his resilience and unwavering determination to succeed. Mothibe’s voice carries the weight of both frustration and hope as he reflects on his journey as a young entrepreneur. “I wish the government could fund local businesses,” he says, his tone a mix of passion and weariness. “As young entrepreneurs, it’s difficult to get funding from commercial banks.” His words reveal a harsh truth that many people like him face – a dream that feels just out of reach, hindered by the lack of financial support.
Mothibe acknowledges that the government has made efforts to create policies aimed at job creation, but he believes there is more to be done. “They’ve tried to instill policies to support local businesses,” he says, “but it is not enough. There is more to be done than just hosting business workshops for young entrepreneurs. Workshops are not helping: businesses need funding.”
Meanwhile, Nyasha Simelane (26) is also a beacon of inspiration. Simelane, the founder and chief executive of the social app Safe Space, recalls the moments that shaped his path. “What has inspired me to start a business is my ability to lead,” he says, with determination in his eyes. “Being placed in positions where I can lead and seeing people respond positively – that’s what gave me the confidence to take the leap into entrepreneurship.” His words reflect a deep-seated belief in the power of influence and responsibility, particularly as a Black person navigating the complexities of a changing society.
“I have so many ideas I want to share with the world,” Simelane continues, a smile spreading across his face. “I thought, why not start a business? I really trust myself.” His enthusiasm is infectious, and you can sense the fire that drives him. Simelane’s journey hasn’t been without its challenges, but he embraces them wholeheartedly. “I love rejection. I love failure because I’ve always managed to bounce back,” he says, emphasising the resilience that has become a cornerstone of his entrepreneurial spirit.
Simelane’s vision for Safe Space is rooted in creating a platform through which individuals can connect, share and find support in a safe environment.
Creating jobs: who’s responsible?
To address the city’s unemployment crisis, the Gauteng provincial government has introduced programmes like Nasi Ispani, designed to help young, unemployed people find jobs. Although this initiative has offered hope, it remains limited in scope. Gauteng premier Panyaza Lesufi recently acknowledged these limitations, saying, “This is the nature of these programmes – they are not long term. And why they are not long term is because we do not have the financial muscle to absorb everyone.”
The debate over job creation in Johannesburg extends beyond government programmes. In a recent national assembly discussion, Dr Michael Cardo of the Democratic Alliance (DA) argued that the government cannot create jobs on a large scale. “The government itself cannot create jobs at scale – that’s the private sector’s role,” Cardo said. He emphasised that for the private sector to thrive and generate employment, the government needs to focus on providing a stable fiscal framework, improving infrastructure, ensuring safety and security, and enhancing the education system to produce a skilled workforce.
Johannesburg’s future, then, may depend not only on government intervention, but also on creating an environment in which the private sector can thrive. However, this also requires tackling systemic issues such as corruption, poor governance, and the inefficiency of public services – issues that have hindered the city’s potential for decades.
Despite its challenges, Johannesburg remains central to South Africa’s economy. The city still generates a significant portion of the country’s gross domestic product and its industries – from mining and finance to manufacturing and IT – continue to provide opportunities.
As Johannesburg moves forward, its success will depend on finding a balance between government policies, private-sector investment, and addressing the structural issues that continue to hold back its residents. The city’s future remains bright, but the journey toward fulfilling the promises of 1994 is far from complete.
Johannesburg’s future is delicately balanced. The city’s towering skyline symbolises potential, but for many people, the ground beneath their feet remains shaky. As the government grapples with unemployment and inequality, the private sector’s role becomes ever more critical. Yet, until systemic issues like corruption and poor governance are addressed, the dream of true economic equality remains just that.
FEATURED IMAGE: Woman coming from a stokvel meeting. Photo: Lona Sokanyile
The right to food is enshrined in the South African Constitution, yet millions of people are still food insecure. In Jo’burg, hunger does not manifest evenly– it is a consequence of inequality, the ghost that haunts this metropolis.
Johannesburg has always been a city of extremes. It was never intended to be an equal city and today it still tears at the seams trying to accommodate the two extreme ends of the economic spectrum – and all the people who fall in between.
As a city that contains such a wide array of lifestyles, from the moneyed elite to people just scraping by, our culture reflects a swathe of differences, all with their own traditions, values and tastes. Nowhere is this more evident than in our food.
Perhaps this is why Jo’burg was voted the second-best city in the world for food in May 2024. There is a wealth of restaurants in Jo’burg that display the city’s diversity with their creative and delectable cuisine.
Time Out, which bestowed Jo’burg with this ranking, gave special mention to Braamfontein, ‘the pulse of the city’, for its food. Time Out recognised the ‘innovative ventures combining the forces of food and culture’ in the area.
Indeed, Braam has an abundance of phenomenal places to eat. But the award does not acknowledge that this is not the Braam most people experience.
For most South Africans, food is a tool of survival, not something to be savoured. For 63.5% of South African families, food insecurity is an everyday struggle.
In the four square kilometers of Braamfontein, the city’s vast gap between rich and poor is quite clear in the pervasive food inequality.
How is it that being able to eat is still a major hurdle for people living in the city – even for those living around a prestigious university and in a gentrified urban area?
The many faces of Braamfontein: the suburb as a case study
Braamfontein is a stellar example of the past 30 years of democracy distilled into one place. In the late ’90s, Braam was run down and tired, neglected in the face of all the overwhelming reworking that needed to be done by the new government.
But in 2002, the Johannesburg Development Agency embarked on a multimillion-rand regeneration programme for Braam, recognising its importance to Jo’burg as an economic hub.
Since then, Braam has bloomed: R4-billion of private investment has been poured into the area, and it has become the place to be for many young professionals with cash to burn.
To many Jo’burgers today, Braam is synonymous with trendy bars, beautiful street art and, of course, delicious food.
But Braam is so representative of post-apartheid South Africa because this change, although real, is limited – and only certain people get to bask in its glow.
On the outskirts of this shiny, new Braam, struggling students and residents still live – and still need to eat. What they have access to reflects dire levels of food insecurity and the unequal nature of access to food in South Africa.
The award-winning Salvation Cafe, and the sophisticated Olives & Plates both sit within Braam’s perimeters, small enclaves of cosmopolitan cuisine that in no way align with the average Braam resident’s wallet.
Around the corner and over the way are the everyday food spots that Braam residents actually frequent: fast-food joints, spaza shops and feeding schemes.
These are the many faces of Braamfontein, all painting a picture of the complex and devastating way that food accessibility still stands as a major marker of inequality, starkly segregating South Africans even today.
One of Braam’s most visited food spots – the Mcdonald’s on Jorissen. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Where convenience trumps all – your average spaza shop near Wits University. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
School kids stop for something to eat at one of the spaza shops in Braam. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Savouring the city
Remko van Niekerk is the co-owner of Salvation Cafe, which was established in 2006.
Salvation Cafe is nestled in the heart of 44 Stanley, among boutique stores and coffee shops. Van Niekerk calls it “an artisanal destination” – a place where people’s creations, including food creations, are treated like art.
As he sees it, “44 Stanley has mostly remained an oasis in the urban jungle of Jozi”, despite the changes in the area.
The café is a popular brunch spot under the cover of trees, surrounded by hanging pot plants, and complete with an outdoor fountain. Everything about it is meant to attract patrons from Westcliff and other affluent Northern suburbs.
Salvation Cafe sign. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
A full house at Salvation Cafe, Braamfontein Werf. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Elevenses at Salvation Cafe, featuring their iconic salmon eggs benedict. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Although Van Niekerk says gentrification has increased in the area, he and his staff have also had to deal with the infrastructure issues that plague Braam, like power and water outages.
To combat such expenses while still maintaining a profit, he says the restaurant’s “prices will just have to keep going up”, particularly given the need to pay for alternative energy sources like generators.
On top of this, Van Niekerk’s boss (and wife), chef Claudia Giannoccaro, “is not keen on using lower quality ingredients, thus prices will have to go up accordingly”.
Indeed, Salvation Cafe meals are nutritious, fresh and tasty, loaded with greens and healthy carbs. Their prices reflect this. Burgers range between R130 and R150, salads between R90 and R138, and most lunches cost about R118 (unless you want the teriyaki salmon, which is Salon Qualitaire).
A five-minute drive away on the quiet end of the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) West Campus, Olives & Plates Wits Club and Conference is housed in a Transvaal vernacular building, with a gorgeous courtyard surrounded by rose bushes and, yes, a fountain.
It is run by sisters Litza Frangos and Andria Neophytou and their husbands, Apo and Dimitri.
The owners of Olives & Plates, who declined requests for interviews, have grown their business into a successful chain of restaurants after originally beginning as canteen caterers for Wits staff. The business was shut down during the #FeesMustFall protests, after which the owners decided to take the business in a different direction.
Inspired by the owners’ Greek roots, the restaurant focuses on elevating classic meals like toasted sandwiches and salads while adding a Grecian flair. Lunches here cost between R150 and R200. Expensive fillet steaks seem to be a speciality and are regular menu picks.
Lunch time at Olives&Plates on West campus, Wits University. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The pristine rose garden at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The indoor decor at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Lunch fare at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
But a restaurant that charges R90 for a fruit salad is a bizarre sight on Wits campus, where students have little choice in what they eat and often go hungry.
So, although fresh food is delivered into Braam every day, the fridges of many students in residence sit empty. What this speaks to, and what the statistics reflect, is that food insecurity is clearly not an issue of supply, but an issue of access.
Walking the breadline
If you walk east from Olives & Plates for about 10 minutes, you will reach The Sanctuary, a beautiful white building that is home to the Wits Citizenship and Community Outreach (WCCO) programme. Every week, the WCCO feeds about 1,000 food-insecure students, who must stand in a long queue to receive their daily meal. Three days a week, the WCCO hands out food parcels of basic groceries to students in need.
Karuna Singh, the WCCO manager, says that in five years the organisation went from handing out “20 parcels to 3,000 parcels” every week.
With ever-rising food prices and stagnant grocery budgets, many students need extra help now more than ever. The National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) grocery budget has increased only 10% (about R150) over the past four years, whereas food prices increased 50% during the same period.
Need far outweighs what the WCCO can provide, and even what it does offer depends on the tenuous supply of charitable donations. In fact, since 2017, the donations the WCCO has received have been halved as companies slowly pull back.
“The food bank is not sustainable; the hot meals are not sustainable,” Singh says. To mitigate this, the WCCO has set up food commons, growing vegetables around campus that give students food sovereignty and sustainable, fresh options.
One of the WCCO’s many mini veggie patches around campus at Wits. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The Wits communal veggie patch on East Campus. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The WCCO’s chronically low food stores. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The WCCO building. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The students at the food bank are not destitute. Mostly, they are young people skating along the line of functional poverty; children of single parents or oldest children having to send some of their NSFAS money home each month.
Rivaldo Jantjies, a fellow journalism student at Wits, survives each month from the money his mom can send him. “I can only buy essentials, you know – noodles, bread, peanut butter, milk, sugar – the basic things I need to survive.”
“When it got to the point [at which] I no longer had those basic things, I would go to [the] WCCO,” he says.
Walking past students on campus, you might not see it, but “a lot of students are struggling”, Jantjies observes. “The lines [at the WCCO] are always long.”
Kea Maphila, an international relations honours student, spoke to the all-too-common experience of students in desperate situations while awaiting NSFAS funding.
“My first year, I only got approved in September”, she tells me. In the interim, she says her mom ‘was paying for my res and giving me allowance… It wasn’t a nice experience.’
Maphila’s situation was manageable, but for many students this would have been catastrophic.
NSFAS provides a stipend for groceries, which is usually about R1,650, but subject to change. “My budget is around R1,000,” Maphila says, which is “enough for groceries, but only for groceries”.
For Maphila, food insecurity is a consuming force, forcing students to prioritise their basic survival. “It’s stressful not knowing when your next meal is, but you’re supposed to be at class at 8am, concentrating,” she says.
Thoughtfully, she tells me: “It seeps into every area of your life… you can’t go on with the rest of your day. It removes so much integrity from a person.”
Integrity is a major part of food insecurity, particularly in a social environment like a campus; inequality among students is often emphasised by the type of food they can afford.
This leads back to basic economic inequality – which, in South Africa, is a racial issue, due to the enduring effects of apartheid.
Food insecurity does not exist in a vacuum and food inequality does not sit squarely within the confines of Braam. It is a countrywide problem – an unsolved one, despite promises and attempts by the government.
Zooming out: the economics of inequality
If someone is shopping on a monthly NSFAS allowance of R1,650, a South African Social Security Agency (SASSA) pension of R1,280, a monthly domestic worker’s salary of R3,349, or receives the national minimum wage of R,4400 a month, groceries in today’s economy are almost unaffordable.
This is for a basket of 28 items. But for a basket of just nine basic items (maize, margarine, peanut butter, bananas, potatoes, IQF chicken, black tea, sugar and long-life milk) the prices are still egregious.
Low-priced items will always be the first choice for poor people when buying food. Grocery stores are aware of this fact, enticing them to make their own brand of cheaper products for mass sale.
Closely related to the food insecurity and inequality conundrum is the persistent issue of nutrition insecurity. Across these four major grocery chains, the same product, due to their varying product value and price, will ultimately hold different nutritional values.
Woolworths margarine has the clear nutritional edge: it is the most energising and fatty margarine, but not too packed with sodium. It costs R32.99, in comparison to R17.99 at Checkers, the least nutritious option.
A research paper from the DSI-NRF Centre of Excellence in Food Security explains the reason behind this unfair price leveraging. The research team found that “the minimalist stance of the government” regarding grocery price setting has granted food companies free reign, with “big retail chains [emerging] as custodians of standards, dictating what should be supplied, how and in what form”.
This leaves South Africans vulnerable to the whim of these profit-seeking companies, which can and will change their prices at any time.
Compounding the threat of artificial scarcity is food scarcity brought about by general government incompetence.
Although South Africa produces enough food to feed its population, making it one of the most food secure countries in Africa, millions of people cannot eat. Dr Tobias Doyer, chief executive of Grain SA, says this is because “food security stands on two legs” – the security of access to food and the ability to obtain food – which the government has not provided for poor citizens.
“South African farmers produce enough food. The problem is that millions of South Africans have become poorer with less ability to buy food – causing famine,” Doyer says.
Groceries cost more and money buys less. In an unregulated food market and struggling economy, it follows that food insecurity is an offshoot of inequality, the most pervasive problem in South Africa today.
Thirty years into our democracy, our leadership has still not transformed the lives of the poor or addressed wealth inequality in any meaningful way. The fact that food insecurity is on the rise in South Africa is not an environmental problem, a social failing or the side effect of a global crisis. It is a major systematic failure.
FEATURED IMAGE: Signpost outside the WCCO building. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
As an overwrought Johannesburg continues to address rampant apartheid hang-ups, the responsibility of ensuring citizens’ equitable access to mental healthcare often falls on under-resourced, overburdened, yet empathetic providersstruggling to meet demand.
If you’re looking for mental health support in Johannesburg, where exactly should you turn? Should you ask people you know for help – and would they judge if you did? Should you head to the nearest clinic, unsure if they’d assist with an invisible problem? What if you can’t afford help or medication? What if you’d rather look up alternative options online? How would you know the right service to select when seemingly infinite options appear in a Google search for “psychologist Johannesburg”? Although it’s been 30 years since the end of apartheid, South Africa’s young democracy is still trying to escape the shadows left by unjust and inhumane policies. These shadows not only obscure economic equality, but persist through generational trauma, haunting the collective psyche of South Africans to this day. To explore how Johannesburg, the country’s most-populated city, could set a national blueprint ensuring adequate mental healthcare access, we must first understand the people behind the service who navigate through troubled waters, trying to make a difference.
The promises of post-apartheid mental healthcare
For South Africa to overcome its traumatic past, it is essential for all citizens to have equitable access to mental healthcare. This principle was acknowledged by the country’s first democratically elected government and is clearly articulated in the policies it introduced.
On December 10 1996, then president Nelson Mandela signed the newly drafted South African Constitution, which became the “highest law of the land”, acting as the direct reference and regulator of all subsequent laws and policies. The Bill of Rights, contained in its second chapter, was drafted as a tool to define and monitor South African citizens’ human rights. Two enshrined rights that concern the state of mental healthcare are the right to “equality” and the right to “human dignity”. These are essential reference points, because they highlight the emphasis the government placed on ensuring that all citizens have equal access to adequate healthcare.
This broad emphasis on health was refined to address mental health concerns with the passing of the Mental Health Care Act in 2002. Among other stipulations, the Act promised to ensure that “various categories of mental health care users” were granted “[co-ordinated] access to mental health”. It also aimed to integrate mental healthcare “into the general health services environment”. For countless generations, previous governments blatantly mistreated the majority of South Africa’s citizens; in contrast, the introduction of these regulations acted as a sign of the new government’s solidarity with them.
However, despite these various renewed governmental policies, the tangible challenges that South Africans continue to face on a day-to-day basis, whether crime, economic pressures or systemic inequality, can muddy the public’s idea of mental healthcare. Because mental health is largely intangible, “fixing” a mental health issue feels more like a luxury than a necessity. This reticence to seek help means that 75% of South Africans actively struggling with mental illnesses do not receive the help they need. Meanwhile, the abundance of everyday stressors can be exacerbated by people’s mental health issues, trapping these seemingly dissimilar problems in an indefinite loop of re-aggravation.
Figure 1: A representation highlighting the disparity between need and access to mental healthcare in South Africa and Gauteng. This is layered on top of a silhouette of an old mining headgear on the outskirts of Johannesburg CBD, with an image of a brain intersecting it.
In 2023 South Africa ranked third last of all measured countries by average mental health quotient, which is an online assessment tool used to “provide [a] comprehensive assessment of mental wellbeing”. The Mental State of the World report also found that South Africa had the second-highest proportion of respondents classified as “distressed or struggling”. These rankings are concerning, particularly considering the emphasis placed on improving the quality of, and access to, mental healthcare in the previous decades.
The incongruence between well-meaning government policies introduced in the hopeful past, and the current reality of overwhelming mental health issues that have not been addressed, is a theme that has persisted in Johannesburg and manifests in damaging ways.
Life Esidimeni: How to learn from the recent past
There is no mental-health policy failure in Johannesburg in the past 30 years that stands out as glaringly as the Life Esidimeni tragedy, when the most vulnerable people in society were neglected and left to rot as a consequence of government action.
In 2015, the Gauteng department of health cut ties with the Life Esidimeni hospital, which provided extended care and housing to thousands of psychiatric patients. The department of health aimed to relocate these patients to various nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) across the province. This decision followed the department of health’srecently introduced Mental Health Policy Framework, which, from 2013 until 2020, aimed to develop “community-based” mental health services like NGOs by deinstitutionalising mental healthcare services like Life Esidimeni hospital. However, this decision could also be explained more simply by the department’s need to “save costs”.
In a vacuum, these promises of governmental support and collaboration with NGOs appear to be beneficial developments for impoverished communities struggling to provide adequate healthcare. However, in reality the NGOs these patients were relocated to were not properly screened, either being woefully under-equipped or “fraudulently approved” to house psychiatric patients. This ignored the department’s framework to ensure citizens with access to adequate mental health services through “[the establishment of] a monitoring and evaluation system”. This mass rehousing ultimately resulted in 144 psychiatric patients dying from neglect and improper care.
This lack of mental healthcare access and resources is particularly damning given that the Life Esidimeni tragedy occurred in Gauteng, South Africa’s wealthiest province, which houses 45% of all registered South African mental health professionals.
Figure 2: A graphic representing how even with the overwhelming proportion of mental health professionals operating in Gauteng, the province is still under-equipped. The graph is layered over an image of the Johannesburg skyline, with a gamma brain wave intersecting it.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, the department of health’s revised Mental Health Framework, has sought to address the issues overlooked by the previous framework, now promising to ensure that “community mental health services will be scaled up to match recommended national norms”. Recently, Gauteng MEC for health and wellness, Nomantu Nkomo-Ralehoko, also committed almost half a billion rand to “improve mental-healthcare infrastructure and services across the province” this financial year.
A renewed focus on mental-health services appears to be a step in the right direction for Johannesburg. However, will this promise truly serve to assist those on the front lines of mental healthcare in the city, or will it simply prove empty once again?
Policy and regulations touting to improve mental healthcare access are an important first step, but they cannot stand on their own. The implementation of these ideas in real-world scenarios is the true test and, to understand the context in which they are applied, one must first understand the different types of mental healthcare in Johannesburg, as well as the various challenges the people running these facilities face.
The pathways to recovery
Unlike physical ailments, because mental illnesses are often ‘invisible’, it can be more difficult to grasp and confront them. The first step on the road to recovery is identifying the problem and realising the need to address it. The next step is often the most challenging: accepting that doing so requires external help. It can prove difficult to ask for help due to a variety of cultural and societal norms that create stigmas around mental healthcare.
Mental health stigma is rife throughout society: one place where they commonly persist and do much harm is within tertiary institutions. Universities are educational spaces, meant to inform and prepare students to tackle problems they face in the real world. However, according to the University of the Witwatersrand’s (Wits) Counselling and Careers Development Unit (CCDU), it is an ongoing process to deconstruct these stigmas during the time in people’s lives when they need the most mental-health attention. According to a study on adolescent mental health, it was found that 75% of people with mental illnesses develop their disorder before turning 24.
Figure 3: A set of self-help tips geared towards vulnerable students. This guide is layered on top of a silhouette of Johannesburg’s skyline with an image of a smiling sun intersecting it.
The CCDU is a free counselling service offered to Wits students, aimed at addressing mental-health concerns, as well as providing academic assistance and preparing students for life outside campus.
“People think that when you are seen coming to CCDU… you have problems,” says Lynette Sikhakhane, a CCDU psychologist. Sikhakhane says what stops many students from seeking out the CCDU is that “culturally… there’s a belief that you man up” instead of admitting to needing help. Highlighting a major misconception about therapy, Sikhakhane states that many students expect therapy to instantly “fix” their problems, when it is actually an incremental process of enabling self-understanding.
CCDU advocacy team leader, Vinoba Krishna says the unit aims “to incorporate the voices of students” into the mental-health assistance it provides. Part of this is dispelling misinformed expectations around counselling and therapy through effective communication and psychoeducation, as outlined in Higher Health’s mental health programme.
Krishna states that, despite the CCDU’s best intentions, “we aren’t able to do the work just by ourselves”, because of a lack of direct funding for mental health. He also emphasises the need to collaborate with “different stakeholders on and off campus” to ensure the best results for students.
A CCDU sign outside of their head offices on Wits West Campus. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
The South African Depression and Anxiety Group (Sadag) has similar aspirations to help people in need and destigmatise mental health in South Africa in the face of limited resources. Sadag is a non-profit organisation that provides counselling via 24-hour toll-free emergency helplines and community-driven initiatives.
Fatima Seedat, a Sadag development manager, says that for all South Africans to have equitable access to mental healthcare “a collective effort” is required from the government, civil society and NGOs. Seedat argues it is impossible to follow the “beautiful strategic framework” outlined by the government when “every year the healthcare budget decreases”.
The lack of funding available to Sadag and other mental-health providers highlights the inequality of access South Africans face. Naledi Nzimande, a Sadag volunteer councillor, says that “the most challenging calls” are when she wants to refer callers to professional help, but there aren’t any mental health resources nearby. Stephanie Gladwin, also a Sadag volunteer councillor, reiterates that the level of mental healthcare individuals receive is, in many ways, directly tied to levels of income. “If you’ve got money, it’s not a problem… South Africa has some fantastic mental-health professionals – it’s just reaching them that’s the only issue,” she says.
SADAG Volunteer Counsellor, Tevin Sutcliffe, on the phone to a hotline caller. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
To combat this unequal access, Sadag has installed counselling containers in Diepsloot and Ivory Park, where they offer face-to-face counselling inside converted shipping containers. Seedat says this project aims “to fill the gap where it’s needed” in vulnerable spaces in Johannesburg.
When comparing mental-healthcare access in the public and private sectors, the disparity between funding and resources is stark. For example, about 80% of South African psychiatrists work in private practice. Although most South Africans access mental healthcare through the public sector, private mental-health services that offer specialised solutions to fill niche gaps in care are also important.
A video covering SADAG’s community based care and, specifically, their Counselling Container project. Video: Tristan Monzeglio
Private music therapist, Graeme Sacks, who operates in Parktown, believes his practice enables him to be sensitive to his client’s needs. “We’re all musical beings… [and music therapy] is a wonderful way to tap into people’s emotions,” he says.
As Sacks puts it, music therapy is an “evidence-based practice”, which uses “music towards clinical goals”, but in practice it’s less stringent. He says, as a music therapist, it’s about concerning yourself with “the situation that [clients have] grown up in” by “trying to find out about their culture, their musical taste”, without ever “imposing our stuff on them”.
This tailored approach to therapy offers clients individualised care and, if music therapy were available in the public sector, it would be a practical means to provide many South Africans with the specific help they require. Sacks says that “most medical aids don’t pay for arts therapies” and that, currently, “there are no arts therapists in public health”. This absence of access to arts therapy is a missed opportunity for the public healthcare system to provide equitable access to a niche form of specialised care.
Music Therapist, Graeme Sacks, playing piano in his office where he treats all manner of people with the power of music. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
Some specialised care in the public sector is available, at Johannesburg’s Tara Hospital, which is a publicly funded psychiatric hospital. It provides specialised care to referred patients who cannot be adequately treated at secondary and tertiary hospitals.
Senior occupational therapist and acting assistant director at Tara, Savannah Levi, believes that in Johannesburg, and South Africa at large, “What’s so hard about accessing mental healthcare, is that there are so many points, but none of those points correlate or integrate with each other.” Levi argues that the policies and ideas meant to integrate a variety of services are based on sound frameworks, but their lack of real-world implementation highlights the “disconnect” between theoretical and practical application.
Levi says Tara’s specialised service offers “a very protective environment for the patients”, meaning that sometimes they “don’t want to leave”. This highlights the benefit that specialised care affords people in need which, in theory, all citizens should have access to. However, Tara has only 140 beds and limited staff due to the high level of training requirements and capped job availability.
Outside of Tara Hospital in Hurlingham, with Sandton in the background. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
A new destination
Despite the government’s multiple continued failings in the broad mental-health landscape, hope still persists in those people willing to take up the struggle. Mental-healthcare providers aren’t required only to help people experiencing mental anguish, they’re expected to do so while juggling external economic and cultural challenges, on top of taking care of themselves. Although well-meaning mental health policies are important, what’s even more important is that they are actually implemented. In the best interests of the South African citizens, it is essential for all stakeholders to minimise confusion and collaborate towards a single goal, so that the people who need help the most are not forgotten.
FEATURED IMAGE: COLLAGE: Nelson Mandela Bridge heading into Johannesburg CBD, an image of a Recovery Unit sign inside Milpark Hospital, and a box or reference documents intended to help SADAG counsellers deal with depressed adolescent callers. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
Following the resignation of Kabelo Gwamanda, the African National Congress’s Dada Morero has been elected the mayor of Johannesburg – again.
In a lengthy council meeting at the Metro Centre in Braamfontein on Friday, August 16, Dada Morero was voted in as the newest Mayor of Johannesburg.
This follows the resignation of Al Jama-ah’s Kabelo Gwamanda, who was increasingly unpopular among city residents who were unsatisfied with his leadership.
Morero received 189 votes. His only competition, Democratic Alliance caucus leader Belinda Kayser-Echeozonjoku, garnered 60 votes, well below the necessary 135 votes needed. This will be Morero’s second stint as the city’s mayor. He was in the role for just 25 days in 2022, squished between the two tenures of the DA’s Mpho Phalatse.
Dada Morero with Kabelo Gwamanda and Thapelo Amad. Photo: Kabir Jugram.
Morero will be Joburg’s fifth Mayor since the 2021 local government elections. The rotating door of mayors has been detrimental to the governance of the city, stalling crucial infrastructure and repair projects.
Since the 2021 local government elections, the opening of a R588-million Forensic Pathology Services lab has been pushed back and delayed numerous times. The last deadline set, June 30, 2024, has also been missed.
Nonetheless, in his acceptance speech, Morero promised Joburg will become a “construction site” and a place of growth after years of neglect and mismanagement.
Morero ended his speech by announcing his lineup of mayoral committee members, surprisingly including Speaker of the House, Margaret Arnolds. She has resigned from her position to take up her new office as MMC of Group Finance.
The only other change made was the appointment of ex-Mayor Kabelo Gwamanda as the new MMC of Community Development.
Morero seemed certain in his speech that his tenure as Mayor would last until 2026, when the next local government elections will occur. While a hopeful message and certainly one reflective of Morero’s positive attitude, the statistics on Joburg Mayors do not inspire confidence.
FEATURED IMAGE: Dada Morero giving his inauguration speech.Photo: Kabir Jugram.
Hundreds of people embodied the punk spirit of resistance and freedom by supporting a Pro-Palestine fundraiser at the Zoo Lake Bowls Club last weekend.
In a unique and inspiring collaboration, the Joburg punk and metal scene teamed up with Gift of the Givers to host a live music event supporting Palestine on August 11, 2024.
Organized by Motel Studios alongside Gift of the Givers, the event featured a lineup of brazen and bold bands who are regulars in the punk music scene.
Run by Jesse Elk and Lucas Cowling, Motel Studios is a homegrown music studio founded by two established musicians.
“As young artists and musicians we [have] an opportunity to use our platforms for something positive and meaningful” the co-founders said.
Radio Islam helped them link up with Gift of the Givers, and together the two made magic. A table selling Palestine merch stood at the entrance, always attracting a crowd. At the ticket stand, custom ‘Free Palestine’ shirts sold out within a few hours, and attendees could already be seen wearing them.
On the lineup were four excellent bands: Zondo Commission, Buru Azeban, Lerato Orchestral Collective (LOC), and Sextape.
Lerato Orchestral Collective. Photo: Ruby DelahuntAttendee Kyle Cantrell. Photo: Ruby DelahuntPalestine merch on sale. Photo: Ruby Delahunt
The bands were excellent at keeping the audience focused on the serious purpose of the event, whilst also maintaining the punk spirit of anarchy and chaos. Lots of moshpits were formed, with punks pushing and shoving each other with glee.
One of the attendees, Kyle Cantrell, thought it was the perfect crossover. “Punks are the kindest, most passionate people I’ve come across”, they said. “We refuse to accept what is happening, and we will party and march and do anything and everything in our power to make a change”.
Even those outside of the punk scene who attended in solidarity with Palestine were impressed. Ameerah Nassiep noted that nearly all the other pro-Palestine events she had attended “were more catered to families”, but she was still enthusiastic about the event and its success.
Olivia Hawes, another newcomer to the scene, said “It was so fun to see a circle that I don’t have much interaction with”.
In many ways, the event was just as much about introducing the vibrant and creative music scene to a new audience as it was about showing solidarity with Palestine.
LOC was a personal highlight, largely for the lead vocalist’s sheer energy and upbeat spirit. The band got everyone clapping, stomping, headbanging and full-on moshing. For an event with such a solemn and grave purpose, everyone left with grins on their faces.
This was Motel Studios’ aim all along. Rather than feeling defeated and helpless in the face of the devastating war on Gaza, they wanted to focus on how “we are all capable of making a difference, even if it is small. We aren’t powerless or insignificant.” They were certainly proven right.
FEATURED IMAGE: People gathered at the Punks for Palestine event at the Zoo Lake Bowls Club. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Once legal representation disputes are settled, the infamous Grindr 7 will receive a trial date.
The Grindr 7 case was remanded again on August 12 to settle disputes regarding the legal representation of three of the accused. This comes after a spate of appearances and postponements to address the same issue since March 2024 in the Johannesburg Magistrate’s Court.
The seven accused, Sanele Ndlovu, 26, Vikani Khanyeza, 28, Sohollo Khumalo, 26, Sphamandla Mavundla, 33, Lungisani Shabalala, 33, Thulani Mazibuko, 23, and Khayelihle Zulu, 24, were arrested in late 2023 for the alleged kidnapping of a Wits University student using the LGBTQI+ dating app, Grindr.
The seven accused as they descend the steps to return to custody until their next date. Photo: Thato Gololo
Further charges were brought against the men for extortion and attempted murder as the state alleges that upon kidnapping the victim, the men held him for ransom of R30 000.
The case had previously been postponed on July 11, 2024, so that the state and the attorney for Ndlovu, Khanyeza and Khumalo could settle internal disputes regarding certain submissions made by the defense to the state.
According to the defense, these submissions were not addressed by the state, therefore the matter cannot proceed, yet the state refutes this, claiming they require written proof that these submissions were made in the first place.
Though these disputes linger, Magistrate Simon Radasi confirmed the trial readiness of all the parties. This means that all evidence has been submitted, and all witnesses have been listed and confirmed. Regardless, Magistrate Radasi irritation was clear. “My role is to sit here and listen to evidence. If this [dispute] is not settled within the next two weeks, I will hold an inquest. If [the inquest determines] the delay is unreasonable, it will go for trial.”
Many members of LGBTQI+ advocacy group, Parents, Families and Friends of South African Queers (PFSAQ) were in attendance, filling almost half of the public seating available.
They expressed the belief that the defense is employing delay tactics to avoid trial. “What we are happy about is that the magistrate is saying, ‘whether representation or no representation, the case will proceed to trial’,” says PFSAQ member Virginia Magwaza.
As bail was refused for all the accused, they will remain in custody and appear on August 29, 2024, to assess whether the dispute has been resolved and the case can proceed to trial.
FEATURED IMAGE: The Grindr 7 being informed of the proceedings by Magistrate Radasi. Photo: Thato Gololo
In scenes resembling some recent parliamentary sittings, a debate descended into chaos as EFFSC and SASCO hurled insults at each other.
The Wits Student Representative Council (SRC) ‘Political Showdown’ on August 5, 2024, descended into chaos as the Economic Freedom Fighters Student Command (EFFSC) and South African Student Council (SASCO) heckled each other leading to the event being dismissed abruptly.
The event was held to provide a platform for discussion of SRC’s work in the 2023/24 period.
The panelists included the SRC President, Bukisa Boniswa who is politically affiliated with the EFFSC, Former Treasurer of the SRC, Kabelo Phungwayo who is politically affiliated with SASCO and the EFFSC chairperson, Surprise Mathebula. The facilitators of the event were the SRC Clubs and societies officer Tshepiso Khesa and the Social science student council chairperson, Nombulelo Chiya.
Student populace, EFFsc and SASCO members engaging in a gwijo session. Photo Salim Nkosi
The stage was set by the first question posed to the SRC President which asked, “Why was it not necessary for a student protest action to take place at the beginning of the year when NSFAS students could not register due to outstanding debts?”
Boniswa said the SRC raised R10 million through their fundraising efforts, which was used to help students who needed assistance with registration. She said this was the highest amount ever raised without resorting to protest. Through these funds NSFAS beneficiaries with outstanding or historical debt were able to register this year.
In addition, students with an average of above 50% were assisted with registration. The SRC has also compiled a monthly bursary bible, stacked with opportunities for eligible students.
Moreover, the SRC ensured that all Honours students that applied for the SRC fund this year got funded. Master’s and PhD candidates were considered and advised to apply for assistance through their faculties, which is something that has never occurred.
But these successes were quickly shot down by mostly SASCO student activists who shouted that it was all “lies”. A shouting match ensued to a point where the two groups started challenging each other to a physical fight.
An altercation between students following the SRC Presidents address. Photo: Salim Nkosi
After some calm was restored, Phungwayo took to the podium and challenged some of Boniswa’s key points. The issue that he challenged was the ability to register all NSFAS students that had outstanding and historical debts to the institution. He said according to the financial rules of the institution, bursary funded students are not charged interest.
Furthermore, he said that the government and the NSFAS board have a clear working relationship which works in a way that if one is funded by the government, there is no institution that is supposed to deny them access due to any outstanding fees, whether it is own debt or government debt.
After Phungwayo’s response the ‘showdown’ again descended into a shouting match between the EFFSC and SASCO activists. Facilitators tried hard to restore order to no avail. They were left with no choice but to dismiss the debate and send attendees home without clarity on the matters raised.
FEATURED IMAGE: The chaotic scene at the political showdown debate. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
Students should be commended for having part-time jobs as the amount of time and effort required seems excruciating.
Navigating academic life as a postgraduate student in journalism while balancing work has been both exhilarating and challenging. It is a battle between getting good grades while also maintaining your lifestyle.
By day, I always envisioned myself uncovering groundbreaking stories and diving into my bustling side hustle by night. Well, looking at things now, it is safe to say that is not how it is currently unfolding.
Many students in South Africa manage to work part-time jobs while they attend school. Approximately 20% of students in higher education institutions work part-time, per a Stats South Africa report.
The requirement to obtain work experience and provide financial support for their studies is a contributing factor to this trend. Tsatsawani Nkuna, studying BSc in Property Studies at Wits University works part-time as a waitress at a restaurant in Braamfontein to cover her monthly expenses.
Many people are forced to work and study simultaneously due to financial constraints, the rising cost of education, and the need to gain practical work experience. This situation often leads to a challenging but enriching journey where individuals learn to balance multiple responsibilities and build resilience.
Being door staff – the person who charges an entry fee at the Play Braam establishment – is thrilling, as I get to engage with different personalities and learn from some. However, this can sometimes get a bit tiring, as I am someone who runs on a limited social battery.
My working hours are from 10am till 8pm every Saturday and some Sundays. While overtime runs depending on the duration of a certain event taking place, there are also days during the week where there are events, and I am allocated a shift.
Having to show up for my classes whilst making sure I earn money to sustain myself was something that I could easily balance at first. The intensity with having to master my time management skills and prioritizing tasks though is what I struggle with.
There have been instances where I would attend class knowing that I’d have to rush to work right after, and by the time I get to res, exhaustion would kick in.
Every week I juggle coursework and assignments alongside my job. Balancing academic responsibilities leads to a hectic schedule, leaving little time for rest and social activity.
One of the benefits that keeps me going is the financial independence I have acquired. My reasons for taking on a part-time job vary as it covers a part of my tuition fees and my living expenses. Financial independence is also important as it keeps me mindful of my spending habits.
The experience can be incredibly rewarding, but it requires a thoughtful approach to balance and commitment.
Many of South Africa’s World Heritage Sites are archaeological treasures. Recently, UNESCO named 14 new Heritage sites, recognising SA’s contribution to the struggle for human rights, liberation and reconciliation.
Gauteng’s cityscapes and townships are finally getting the recognition they deserve for their role in human history after UNESCO announced a new series of World Heritage Sites.
A serial of properties representing South Africa’s liberation movement, the Nelson Mandela Legacy Sites, pinpoint the major locations that featured in the struggle and the lives of its most influential figures.
No province displays this history better than Gauteng, where eight of the fourteen sites are located.
Places like Constitution Hill and the Union Buildings have been named world heritage sites, a far cry from the well-known ones like the Drakensberg Mountains or the Cape Floral Region, recognized for their ancient history and rare beauty.
Isolation Cells at Number Four, Constitution Hill. Photo: Ruby DelahuntThe Old Fort, Constitution Hill. Photo: Ruby DelahuntWatch tower at Number Four, Constitution Hill. Photo: Ruby Delahunt
Of South Africa’s 12 World Heritage Sites, Robben Island is the only other site from modern history that qualified under Criterion vi – to be associated with events, ideas, creations or beliefs of outstanding universal significance.
And while Robben Island does indeed symbolize the indomitable human spirit and dedication to freedom, the new Nelson Mandela Legacy Sites display a less isolated, more communal type of triumph and liberation. These new locations are not museums, but living, breathing places.
One of the sites, simply named “16 June 1976 – The Streets of Orlando West” includes long stretches of roads in the township, chosen not for any specific incident that took place but for the spirit of defiance and bravery that arose from this area.
This Heritage Site is not a protected spot of natural value, but a celebration of the distinctive humanity displayed at this site during the 1976 uprisings.
Smack-bang in the middle of Joburg, Constitution Hill is a great example of how universal human history also exists in bustling, vibrant places, not just in ruins or rainforests.
In Sharpeville, the four sites making up the Heritage site there are nestled between spaza shops and sports bars. One of them, the Sharpeville police station, is today the Kitso Information Development Centre, a hive of activity which includes a feeding scheme and computer and life skills courses.
Gauteng has approximately 16-million residents, most of whom live in urban areas. The declaration of these UNESCO Heritage Sites displays how we live alongside our history, and in doing so keep it alive.
To see the full list of the UNESCO Nelson Mandela Heritage Sites, check out a Google Maps list of them here.
FEATURED IMAGE: The Old Fort, Constitution Hill. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Residents of Joburg are fed up with the decay of their communities and the unresponsiveness of their municipalities.
On Saturday, July 27, a melting pot of residents across Johannesburg gathered outside Johannesburg Metropolitan Centre calling for the resignation of Mayor Kabelo Gwamanda.
United under the umbrella movement, ‘Joburg Crisis Alliance’, foundations like the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation and the Organization Undoing Tax Abuse (OUTA), came together to air their grievances with the city and local municipalities. .
Specifically, residents are frustrated with the poor infrastructure and lack of service delivery experienced in their areas, citing experiences of consistent water shortages, power outages and increased levels of crime.
“We don’t have streetlights; we don’t have robots in our street. People are being mugged and robbed, and children have been kidnapped. When we call the police, they don’t come with immediate effect, they come after two, three hours!” claims Riselle Davids, a resident of Ennerdale.
Citizens are further calling for the scrapping of the recent R230 tariff that has been implemented for prepaid electricity users. The tariff was implemented at the beginning of July as a service-and-capacity charge and is effective on all prepaid electricity users regardless of how much electricity they use.
“Some of our elderly people cannot afford the water and electricity bill [as is], it’s so much. The new prepaid meter [tariffs], we don’t want it!” said Davids.
Citizens were protesting poor service delivery under the moniker the Joburg Crisis Alliance. Photo: Kabir Jugram
With these issues in mind, the Joburg Crisis Alliance is demanding for mayor Gwamanda and his council to resign due to their unresponsiveness to citizens’ concerns regarding the decline in their living conditions. Beyond that, they implore ward councillors to start engaging with their communities.
“What we absolutely need is a plan of action, an urgent turnaround plan, around water, electricity, housing and safety in this city. If they [mayoral committee] cannot step up to that challenge, they must go. The mayor must step down with his entire mayoral committee, and that council must provide for us leadership that is accountable to them and the residents” says Tessa Dooms, a member of the Joburg Crisis Alliance and co-ordinator of Saturday’s protest.
Speaker of the City of Johannesburg, Margaret Arnolds was present to receive the memorandum, being welcomed by constant jeers. ‘Where’s the mayor?’ mocked numerous protestors in the crowd.
“I am here today to receive the memorandum and say that I will come back within 14-30 days or speak to the authors of the memorandum as to their demands” says Arnolds to a disgruntled audience.
The alliance shall wait for response from the mayor’s office and determine their course of action from there.
FEATURED IMAGE: Residents of Joburg unit to protest a lack of service delivery. Photo: Kabir Jugram
South Africa has invested over R60 billion in its transport infrastructure over the last 30 years! While you can certainly see some of that investment, major modes of transport are just not keeping up with how urbanised Johannesburg and its surrounding areas are becoming. Here on The Next Stop, I am joined by Olga Mashilo […]
