Seven months after her precautionary suspension, former Wits Sociology Head of Department Professor Srila Roy faces an internal university disciplinary hearing set for September 15
Former Sociology Head of Department Professor Srila Roy will appear before a formal Wits disciplinary hearing on September 15, 2026.
Head of the School of Social Sciences, Professor Lorena Núñez Carrasco, confirmed that internal proceedings remain ongoing and an outcome will take time.
Roy remains under institutional restrictions that prevent her from speaking publicly or publishing material regarding the ongoing case.
Former Head of Sociology Department Professor Srila Roy will face an internal university disciplinary hearing on September 15, 2026, seven months after her precautionary suspension.
Professor Srila Roy. Photo: The University of the Witwatersrand
The hearing date was confirmed by Head of the School of Social Sciences, Professor Lorena Núñez Carrasco, in response to written enquiries about Roy’s employment status and the progress of internal proceedings.
While questions surrounding Roy’s permanent standing at Wits have circulated since her suspension in February, the university confirmed that internal processes have not yet concluded.
“The disciplinary process has not concluded, the hearing will in fact only be held on the 15th of September, [and] even then, the final resolution will take some time,” Núñez Carrasco stated in an email response.
She added that until the matter is officially resolved, Roy is restricted from making public statements or publishing material concerning the case.
Roy was placed on precautionary suspension in February 2026 following public backlash over remarks posted on social media regarding South African work ethic amidst parliamentary discussions on foreign academics in higher education.
The post drew swift condemnation from student leadership, the South African Sociological Association (SASA), and members of parliament. Roy subsequently resigned as Head of Department, leading to formal university disciplinary procedures.
Although Parliament’s Portfolio Committee on Higher Education previously called for her dismissal, Wits University maintained that any institutional outcome would depend strictly on the completion of its formal internal processes.
With the hearing scheduled for mid-September, the final determination on Roy’s future academic standing at Wits remains pending.
FEATURED IMAGE: Graphic showing silhouette of a woman by a calendar marking September 15 2026. Designed by: Daniella Ripamonti
Amid South Africa’s escalating housing crisis, one mother fights through the chaos to build a home for her family.
Right before night spills into day, the valleys of Eldorado Park are bathed in shadows of deep purple. Nestled in the grassy plains stands a makeshift house no larger than six paces in length. Almost a year into its existence, the shelter stands tall as one of the first built in the informal settlement of Actionville. Steadily, life unwinds within the corrugated iron and rusted zinc walls of this little matchbox.
In the inky black darkness, Elizabeth Percent (41) peels back the covers and rises before the sun to make breakfast for her children. She walks to the gas-stove, guided by the weak glow of her phone flashlight. Tick-tick-tick. A tiny blue flame erupts from the cylinder with a hiss. Methodically, Elizabeth sets her pot on the metal stand and begins slicing bread.
Elizabeth seated on the bed with her children. Photo: Hannah Brown.
“We had to make fires in the beginning,” Elizabeth says with a distant gleam in her eye. “Everything was on a fire. Your home smelled like a fire even.” She pans her gaze to her children scattered around on the bed, her eyes lowered. “I now cook on a gas-stove. If it was me 3 years ago, I would’ve never done gas.”
Her four children stir in the dark from the commotion. Willow (3), her granddaughter whom she was babysitting, remains within the warm nest of blankets, unwilling to budge. Spurred by their mother’s commands, each child begins performing their morning rituals like clockwork under the dim glow of a battery-powered lamp.
Cleotus (10) is lacing up his shoes. Anastacia (9) is pulling her hair into elastics. Tarryn (5) and Willow sit huddled together under the covers, squealing as big sister Hayley (16) comes to wipe their grinning faces with a cloth.
The shelter where Elizabeth and her children reside. Photo: Jamie Ho.
As the sun peeks over the valley into the lace-adorned windows, a soft golden light trails up the corrugated walls, illuminating the cheery faces huddled on the bed. Elizabeth carries steaming bowls of porridge to them. Excited squeals are silenced by the hasty shovelling of spoons into hungry mouths.
At the far end of the room is an old sink bowl, disembodied from any pipes, where dishes pile high, but no water trickles from the spout. Instead, Elizabeth carries water back and forth from the JoJo tanks installed around the settlement, storing them in containers under the table. She empties one into the pot, which she sets on the stove.
“We never used to have JoJo tanks,” she explains, “The surrounding community used to assist us with water.”
A JoJo tank installed along the path in Actionville. Photo: Jamie Ho.
However, despite having access to the tanks, the community still faces many problems with sanitation, especially since there is no running water for toilets. “We have manholes,” Elizabeth says, “We dig a hole and we use the bucket system. Or you do it in the house, or if you’re comfortable, in a small area outside and then you go and throw it away and wash your bucket.” This process, however, fills her with dread as it exposes her children to unsafe, unhygienic conditions.
Now the warm sunlight has filled every crevice of the shack and has ignited a burst of energy in the children. They begin soaring onto the bed, charging out of a home too small to contain their joy. Bursting out of the door, the cold morning wind pools over their tender faces as they sprint around the four corners of their fenced-off yard.
“I feel like a superintendent sometimes,” Elizabeth says with a slight chuckle. “Everything needs to be in order. If each one stays in their lane and just follows through on what [their] responsibility is, it’s easier.” She casts a stern glance at Tarryn and Willow, who are fighting over a mic.
Hayley pulls open the low metal gate, and the children spill out from the yard into the copper-red plains. Elizabeth chides each one to make a line, and, like magnets, her children form a chain-link of hands.
Down the open dusty road, they strut like soldiers. The chants of an army of children carry through the air.
“We walk straight. We walk straight. If you don’t move out the way, we will kick you in the face,” they sing, lifting their legs up high to kick the air in front of them.
“This used to be an open field,” Elizabeth states, gesturing towards the settlements dispersed around the grassy plains.
Informal dwellings scattered across the grassy plains. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Actionville is one of thousands of informal settlements that have sprouted across the country born out of a desperate, decades-long housing backlog that has left millions waiting on government waiting lists.
A year ago, during the early days of Actionville, residents faced constant pushback from law enforcement, with Elizabeth’s home under threat of being bulldozed. To comply with their demands, she chose to dismantle the shelter herself.
“If they do get it right, it’s a demolish,” Elizabeth explains, “They use their bulldozer and they drive over your home so it’s damaging everything that’s in there, and this was my home. It’s been my home for the longest time.”
Eviction threats are a recurring reality for informal dwellers. Time and again, police have raided communities to tear down newly erected shacks, only to meet fierce resistance from residents determined to protect their homes.
Under the current Prevention of Illegal Eviction (PIE) Act, authorities must secure a court order before demolishing homes. Proposed amendments would remove this requirement, making evictions far easier. While officials claim the changes target illegal land syndicates, housing rights advocates warn the loss of these legal protections will leave vulnerable families like Elizabeth’s with nowhere else to go.
“If they make this amendment, we could lose everything,” Elizabeth says solemnly.
Her grip remains firm on her children’s hands as they approach the school. As she hugs each one goodbye, she watches them depart, their chattering and giggles fading round the bend.
Elizabeth and her children walking to school. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: Elizabeth seated on the bed with her children. Photo: Hannah Brown.
The clean girl aesthetic whispers, but creative makeup is yelling: “I’m back, bitches!”
The ‘clean girl’ aesthetic is losing its grip on the beauty industry.
Colourful and experimental makeup is taking over.
Younger generations are redefining beauty by making their own rules.
For the past few years, the ‘clean girl’ aesthetic has dominated beauty culture. The same brushed-up and gelled-down brows. The same ‘doughnut’ glazed skin. The same ‘strawberry’ barely there blush. Somewhere between the fourth layer of skincare and the third swipe of clear lip gloss, the aesthetic has become less of a trend, and more of a uniform of conformity. If you doomscroll for more than ten minutes, you will start to notice that everyone looks eerily similar. An almost identical standard that looks a lot like past beauty ideals rather than dismantling them.
The clean girl was everywhere. She woke up at 5.a.m., drank freshly juiced organic greens, and slicked back her hair into a definitive, carefully curated bun. This was meant to look like it took her 5 minutes to get ready, when in reality it took twenty. Her skin seemed perfectly luminescent, and her hair stayed stuck down in place.
But, the wind has changed speed, and the tides have turned over. The bun has started to loosen. The blush is bolder, eyeshadow is brighter, and highlighter is blinding, once again.
Welcome to the death of the clean girl. May she rest in pieces.
As the years pass and the trend finally fades away, people are moving away from this carefully designed idea of what beauty should be and is turning towards makeup, hair, and style that is louder, messier, and more personal.
Makeup artist, Tylar Booysen, looking at herself in the mirror. Photo: Kerese Govender
The clean girl aesthetic is more than just a simple makeup look. It became a must to follow. The fake freckles and dewy skin are just surface level. It represents a specific image of femininity. Makeup stopped being loud and proud and instead, became something meant to be minimal, polished, and controlled. Everything about this aesthetic is meant to appear effortless. Yet, here’s the gag: there is nothing effortless about it. To achieve this standard, expensive, extensive beauty routines are required.
The clean girl disguised beauty conformity as self-care. Individualism and self-expression exited the group chat.
But now, they’re back! Better than ever.
Graphic eyeliner is escaping its assigned constraints. Colour combinations that have never been thought of before are being invented. Shimmer is showing up in places that shimmer has never been invited to before.
While the clean girl encouraged people to blend in, the maximalist queen steps in and demands to be seen and heard.
Close up of lip products and cigarette butts with lipstick stains. Photo: Kerese Govender
Makeup artists that have contributed to the resurgence of creativity in 2026 are Ngozi Edeme, better known by her online persona PaintedbyEsther, and Sophia Sinot.
Edeme’s signature excessive use of blush and colourful shimmers had the entire beauty industry trying to recreate her looks. She has become a significant participator in Tyla’s current branding for A*POP, from the bright eyeshadows to princess pink blush, body shimmer and neon wigs. It is becoming increasingly easy to spot a look created by Edeme.
Zara Larsson’s Midnight Sun era is also instantly recognisable: what started with a poor PicsArt dolphin edited alongside Larsson’s 2017 hit Symphony has resulted in one of the most iconic popstar rebrandings of the 2020s. Together, Larsson and Sinot have brought back the dazzle, shimmer and shine which pop stars used to be known for. Every look incorporates a range of colour combos, gleaming glitter, and rhinestones lingering close by.
These perspectives have inspired people to look at makeup as less of natural beauty and more as a way of creatively contributing to one’s individual style in the boldest way possible. An eye can become a canvas, a face something to experiment on. Lipstick becomes a statement, and eyeshadow commands attention. The rules of makeup are changing. A look can be inspired by anything: paintings, music, subcultures. One day, it can be punky smudged eyeliner. The next, it can be as colourful and dramatic as drag. It does not demand consistency or structure. Instead, it pushes you into not choosing one aesthetic for the rest of your life. You are allowed to do soft glam on Tuesday and the furthest thing from natural on Thursday.
The most notable thing about the shift towards creative beauty is that it is unapologetically visible. For years, makeup trends have been obsessed with making beauty invisible. No-makeup meant using makeup, while pretending you didn’t. Creative makeup does the complete opposite; it looks like time, effort, and like someone sat in front of a mirror for two hours deciding what colour goes where. Creativity exists without apologising for being there.
The reality is that beauty trends have always been telling us what to do. Your eyebrows should be thicker, no, thinner. Blush belongs on your nose or does it? Everyone is expected to change their style. The clean girl aesthetic was just the latest trend in beauty’s long history of this phenomenon. Creative makeup represents something different, but it is not completely free from trends. The internet has a peculiar ability to turn individuality into another categorical trend for people to follow. Give the internet a few months, and there will be a ‘correct’ way to be creative. But for now, it is refreshing to see people figure out their personal style.
However, we have to be realistic. The clean girl is not being buried next to the Tumblr girl or the 2016 baddie just yet. There will always be people who prefer a classic slick back bun. The issue lies with the idea that this is the only correct option. That frizzy hair is unacceptable. That the afro must be ‘neatly’ combed back instead of being free, beautiful as it is. Creative beauty is not here to replace but to rebuild a room for more. For the person who sees beauty as what it is: a form of expression.
Perhaps we are tired of being told what is acceptable and what is not. Every week, there is a new product to purchase. Every month, there is a new trend to follow. Every year, there is a new version of yourself to become. Creative beauty says, “Hell no!” It says that beauty does not have to be subtle, invisible, or effortless. Beauty is allowed to simply be fun.
The clean girl may still be alive somewhere in the world, but elsewhere the creative queens have just unboxed a new neon eyeshadow pallete.
Tylar Booysen showcasing her makeup look. Photo: Kerese Govender
FEATURED IMAGE: Close up of creative makeup look on Tylar Booysen. Photo: Kerese Govender
Members of Uthingo Lwamankosazana (Rainbow of Maidens) – the Wits society for young maidens – are preparing for Umkhosi Womhlanga, the annual Zulu reed dance ceremony honouring the king and celebrating maidenhood, while encouraging young women to embrace their cultural identities and traditions.
Uthingo Lwamankosazana aseWits prepares members for Umkhosi Womhlanga.
Students from different cultures celebrate their heritage together.
Members say young people are losing touch with tradition.
For some Wits students, preparing for Umkhosi Womhlanga, the annual Zulu reed dance ceremony set to take place September 5-6 2026, is about more than getting ready for a cultural ceremony: it is a chance to reconnect with traditions they fear young people are losing.
Uthingo Lwamankosazana is a society for maidens at Wits that brings together young women from different cultural backgrounds under the slogan ‘Maidens united in diversity.’ Second-year BCom Accounting student and chairperson Luthando Mdletshe said the society is not exclusively Zulu, and that women from any tribe are welcome to join. “We’re not just a Zulu maiden’s group,” she said.
For second-year BA Film and Television student Bulumko Ntluzo, who is Xhosa, being part of Uthingo has encouraged her to take pride in her own culture and traditions.
Umkhosi Womhlanga, held annually during the first or second week of spring every year, is a cultural festival in South Africa where tens of thousands of young women gather to celebrate womanhood and cultural identity. Members of Uthingo lwamankosazana pushed back on a common misconception that women who attend Umkhosi Womhlanga do so to be selected as wives.
Final-year BSc Astronomy and Astrophysics student Tania Nyanda said this, and other stereotypes have contributed to young people becoming disconnected from traditional practices. She said members attend the ceremony to pay their respects to the royal family and take part in prayer. Mdletshe described it instead as a celebration of ubuntombi (maidenhood), and a chance for maidens from different provinces to learn from one another.
An image of Uthingo Lwamankosazana at Umkhehlo Sanele Sithole
Uthingo Lwamankosazana members have been preparing for the ceremony through a ‘Siyaya eMhlangeni’ camp and amahubo, which are traditional song practices held on campus. Second-year Bachelor of Education Student Nosipho Makhalima said the camp prepares members by advising them on how to conduct themselves and reminding them of the significance of Umkhosi Womhlanga.
Beyond ceremony preparation, the society doubles as a support network for young women in their 20s, navigating university life away from home. Makhalima described it as a safe and educational space where members discuss issues around relationships, sexuality, and abstinence in line with the traditional values promoted by the society and at its centre is a sense of sisterhood.
Ntluzo said young women often become disconnected from their traditions once they arrive at university, driven by peer pressure and fear of appearing “too traditional.” She added that social media has also shifted young people’s attitudes towards culture.
As Uthingo Lwamankosazana members prepare for this year’s ceremony, Uthingo Lwamankosazana continues to give Wits students a space to engage with culture, support one another and hold on to tradition while navigating university life.
FEATURED IMAGE: An image of member of Uthingo Lwamankosazane by Sanele Sithole
From altering oversized trousers in a university residence to turning discarded clothing into insulation for informal settlements. Bryan Lepelle is proving that a small student idea can grow into a business with a bigger purpose.
Drip Tailors is focused on sustainability, skills development and job creation.
Lepelle received a Head of School Award at Wits.
Lepelle formally registers his business in 2025.
Bryan Lepelle, a co-founder of Drip Tailors, is not the kind of entrepreneur who started with a big office, expensive machines or a large amount of funding. As an Honours student in Education, his entrepreneurial journey started in 2023 while he was a student living at Barnato residence at the University of the Witwatersrand.
Lepelle and his co-founder, Refilwe Monyela, bought trousers that were too big for them. Instead of looking for someone to alter the trousers, they decided to do it themselves. Their sewing skills were self-taught. They adjusted the trousers and, to their surprise, it worked. “We taught ourselves how to sew and we adjusted the trousers and it actually went well,” says Lepelle.
That small success made them think about other students who could be facing the same problem. With many students buying clothes online from stores such as Shein and Temu, they wondered whether there were other students who faced the same problem they did. So, they posted in university groups to find out and there were many.
What began with two students trying to fix their own trousers quickly turned into an opportunity.
“We identified a problem that students had and we had to come up with a solution,” Lepelle explains.
At first, Drip Tailors was informal. Lepelle and Monyela were simply making some extra money on the side while studying. It was not yet the serious business it would later become. In 2025, however, they took another important step by entering the entrepreneurial space at E-hub. The E-hub is a university –based entrepreneurship hub that supports students and emerging entrepreneurs in developing and growing their businesses. With the support they received there, the business was formally registered. They received mentorship, which helped them understand that what they had started could become more than just a side-hustle.
But turning an idea into a business came with its own challenges. “The biggest challenge when we were starting was funding, basically because we work with machinery and other equipment,” Lepelle says.
The lack of resources forced the young entrepreneurs to find ways to work with what they had. “When we started, we made an investment in buying two small machines. Even though we lacked some equipment, we found a way of adapting and using those two machines, and it did work,” he says. Later, they received funding after winning an Enactus competition. Other support, including funding from Ford Motor Company, also helped them move forward.
Drip Tailors Co-founders Refilwe Monyela (left) and Bryan Lepelle (right) pose with certificates after being recognized for their tailoring work. Photo: Supplied/ Drip Tailors
Learning to work with limited resources became part of his entrepreneurial education. But Drip Tailors was also changing. The business began looking beyond simply altering clothes and towards a much bigger problem: textile waste and the cold weather experienced by people living in informal settlements. This led to the development of ThermaCycle.
Drip Tailors collects unwanted clothing through clothing donation drives and other partnerships. “When we go to collect clothes, there are clothes that can’t be donated because they are seriously damaged, beyond repair and can’t be used anymore, Lepelle says. Instead of throwing those clothes away, Drip Tailors repurposes them. “We take those clothes, disinfect them and decolour them, and we make thermal wall insulation with those clothes,” he explains. The insulation is then used to help make homes in informal settlements warmer.
According to Lepelle, the material can help increase the temperature inside a house by 8 to 18 degrees, helping create a warmer and more comfortable living environment during colder months.
At the heart of Drip Tailors is the idea of finding solutions to problems.
The business has grown into a social enterprise. It is not only focused on recycling waste but also on teaching people skills that they can use to be self-sustainable. Drip Tailors has a training academy where people are taught sewing skills. Lepelle explains that the goal is not simply to train people and send them home, but to give them skills that can create opportunities for their future. As he puts it, “after someone has completed their training, they can go start their own business.” He also emphasises that Drip Tailors is focused on creating a meaningful impact in the community, stating that “Drip Tailors teaches people skills so they can be able to sustain themselves.”
This focus on skills and employment is especially important to Lepelle because of the high level of unemployment among young people in South Africa. As he explains, “trying to employ a certain portion of youth is solving one of the country’s problems.”
Being a student and a business owner at the same time is challenging. While other young people may spend their free time relaxing, going out with friends or simply enjoying university life, Lepelle often spends his spare time serving clients, managing his team and thinking about the future of the business. He admits that finding a balance has been one of the hardest parts of his journey. His solution? Organisation.
Lepelle creates weekly schedules and sets goals for each. His university timetable also gives him some flexibility because he attends classes once a week and has many classes online. Lepelle explains, “I divide my time by setting weekly schedules and setting goals for every week.” He adds that attending physical classes once a week and having the rest online gives him the flexibility to manage both his studies and business.
He believes the success of the project is not about two directors doing everything themselves.
“It’s all possible because of a team,” he says.
His journey has also taken him beyond South Africa. In 2025, Lepelle travelled to Thailand, where he made international connections and developed partnerships with people from other countries. He says the experience taught him that networking is one of the most important parts of entrepreneurship. More importantly, he learned that a company is not only about the people who own it. It is about the people it serves.
That lesson has influenced the way he looks at business. In his view, entrepreneurship should have an impact on the community. It should create opportunities, solve problems and help people. That belief has also shaped his leadership.
His advice is simple: take the risk.
“If you don’t take steps, no one will take them for you,” he says.
For Lepelle failure is also part of the process. Sometimes, he says, you have to fail in order to learn. His own journey shows that entrepreneurship does not always begin with a perfect business plan. Sometimes it starts with a problem that needs solving. For him, it was a pair of trousers that did not fit. Today, the same mindset is being used to tackle a much bigger problem: textile waste, cold homes and unemployment.
Drip Tailors co-founders Refilwe Monyela (left) and Bryan Lepelle (right) at an Enactus competition. Photo: Supplied/Drip Tailors
FEATURE IMAGE: The official logo of Drip Tailors, a Wits students’ tailoring business. Photo: Supplied/ Drip Tailors
That love has taken him from schoolboy derbies in front of 15 000 fans to a professional contract with the Lions.
Before every match, the ritual is the same. The same pair of socks pulled tight over strapped ankles. The wristband with his family member’s names and a bible verse, worn like armour against his skin. A familiar song through his headphones, settling into him the way it has before every big game since school. By the time he steps onto the field, Thandolwethu “Thando” Biyela is no longer thinking. He is simply ready to tackle something.
On the field, he is the man opponents least want to run into, a loose forward who folds ball carriers in half. Teammates call him the “Bone Collector,” a nickname earned one bruising hit at a time. Walk past him on Wits University’s East Campus a few days later, though, and he could be any other student hooded up, backpack slung over one shoulder, on his way to a lecture he missed half of because he was on a plane back from a tournament. Balancing the two lives is not easy, but it is the only life he wants.
An image of Thando celebrating with his teammate after they scored a try. Photo: Sanele Sithole
Long before the wristband and the nickname, Biyela was a small boy, on a school field, chasing a ball he barely understood. Born in Umlazi and raised in Secunda, he was introduced to rugby in grade four by his primary school teachers, and something about the chaos of it- the collisions, the structure hidden inside the collisions stuck. He started in the backline, playing at 13, before settling into the position he now calls home: loose forward, specifically the number eight, where his size and appetite for contact do the most damage. At King Edward VII School (KES), he played fullback before being moved to flank, a shift toward the collision-heavy role he would grow into as a professional.
“It’s hard, but it’s something that I love doing, something that relieves stress for me,” Biyela said, describing the sport that has defined his life since childhood. That love has taken him from schoolboy derbies in front of 15 000 fans to playing for the junior Springboks and a professional contract with Lions. “The professional set-up like the Lions is a dream come true,” he said, though the pressure never really goes away. “The pressures of playing between high school and for the Lions is different but the same for me.”
Biyela enrolled at Wits in 2023, a decision he said he does not take lightly. His week looks nothing like that of the students around him in lecture halls: early gym sessions, training that eats into afternoons meant for tutorials, flights to tournaments that leave gaps in his notes. “The support has been helping me quite a lot,” he said. “Like when I was at the World Championship last year, all of my lecturers would send me notes and slides so that when I come back, everything becomes easier for me to catch up.”
Asked whether he ever wishes for an ordinary varsity experience, Biyela answered honestly: he sometimes wonders what that life would have looked like. But he would not trade what he has now. “Not everyone is lucky enough to be in this position,” he said.
Biyela’s 2024 Varsity Cup debut, against University of Cape Town (UCT), came when he was just 19. He remembers the noise most — a stadium of students dancing in the stands. “Playing and seeing the crowd dancing and watching was a different experience,” he said. Senior teammate Ngia Selengbe, a player he had known since Grade eight, put it in perspective afterwards: “You are here for a reason. You are 19 playing here, and that shows how good you are.”
The 2025 season brought its own frustrations. Despite a stronger, fitter squad, injuries meant Biyela only played in two matches, against University of Johannesburg (UJ) and Central University of Technology (CUT), the kind of setback that tests any athlete’s patience. But patience, he said, is something rugby has taught him. “When I’m on the field, that is when I’m patient,” he said, speaking about his role as captain. “That is a place where I have to be calm headed” That composure was tested, and rewarded, at an international level.
Called up to the junior Springbok camp late in 2024, Biyela had to wait until January to attend, after an ankle surgery ruled him out of the first session. He went on to captain the side at the World Rugby U20 Championship in Italy. “We were not that good leading up to the tournament; we were predicted to be average,” he said. Against those odds, the team won the title.
Off the field, family anchors him. As the eldest of three and the only son, Biyela describes a deep sense of responsibility toward his two younger sisters and a bond with his mother that has only strengthened over the years. “My mom is my everything,” he said. “She has literally done everything for me. She’s always there when I need to talk to her, whether about school, rugby, or girls.” Both his parents remain central to his support system, which is why their names, alongside a Bible verse, sit permanently on his wrist. A firm believer in God, Biyela deliberately chose “Sigade Umzila,” the song he plays in his ears before every kick-off: its message mirrors the physicality and leadership his position demands.
Longtime friend and Lions teammate Tirhani Masondo, who has known Biyela since Grade eight at KES , described him as a young man whose confidence rarely needs to announce itself. “He’s the type of person whose actions speak louder than his words,” Masondo said. “A lot of his biggest wins are silent wins. He doesn’t always need recognition for what he does he just gets the job done.” Off the field, Masondo added that Biyela is disciplined, humble, and quick to celebrate others’ successes, sometimes more than his own. “The way he approaches life is almost the same way he approaches a tackle,” Masondo said. “Once he sees a target, he doesn’t hesitate.”
For Biyela, that target is simple: keep showing up for his team, his family, and his degree, one semester and one match at a time. Somewhere between the socks going on and the final whistle, that is exactly what he keeps doing.
FEATURED IMAGE: A image of the tunnel run of Thando Biyela image by Sanele Sithole
Wits Fine Arts students Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee presented their collaborative exhibition at The Point of Order.
The theme was inspired by Abdullah’s poem Citrus Soup.
Through installation, painting, and found objects, the duo leaves meaning open, hoping curiosity outweighs fear.
From August 27 to 28, 2026, fourth-year Wits Fine Arts students Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee presented a collaborative exhibition at The Point of Order in Braamfontein: There’s a Bug in This Citrus Soup.
The theme was inspired by a poem Abdullah wrote and shared with Camryn. It reads in part: “My conscience tends the sacred wound, my soup now cold from the ashes. The citrus leaks through my soul; When the water drys up, where do I go?”
An artwork by Abdullah Saloojee titled: Ant/One is many. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
After weeks of analysing it, Camryn said she found a deep sense of want and disappointment in the piece, which became the anchor for the exhibition. The citrus, the artists said, speaks to intense tension and a state of limbo. The bug itself is left open to interpretation; it can be an insect, a stomach bug, or a technical bug. Essentially, the bug is meant to symbolise disturbance and discomfort.
That disturbance shows in how differently they work. Camryn’s artworks are installation-based. Her paintings act as a base, then she builds around them with tangible materials that give them life. Abdullah’s work is orientalist, an art form which blends realism and fantasy. Yet their pieces have blended so well that people cannot tell which piece belongs to whom. “Another thing that visually combines our work is our fascination with found objects,” Abdullah said. Those objects have been integrated into several artworks.
Abdullah wants his work to evoke sadness, but as a journey toward rediscovered hope. Camryn, in contrast, hopes her pieces “keep them on the verge, whilst still being curious but weird at the same time,” while evoking disgust and discomfort.
An artwork by Camryn Jessie titled: Early worms get eaten. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
Both have intentionally stopped doing things the ‘traditional’ way within Johannesburg’s contemporary art landscape: “We disrupt the space in subtle ways by keeping things natural, because you don’t have to do things in a certain way,” they said. Their goal is to get people interested without feeling stupid for not understanding. “The bug is something you don’t fully understand, but it ignites a curiosity,” Abdullah said. “Even though there is something strange and unknown, and that you are a bit scared, we hope that the curiosity outweighs that fear,” Camryn added.
In the end, the metaphorical bug can be feared and embraced. The journey gives space to acknowledge and learn to live with its uncertainties, discomforts, and weirdness.
Camryn Jessie and Abdullah Saloojee posing for a picture in front of their found object titled: The Window. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
FEATURED IMAGE: An installation by Camryn Jessie titled: Life leaks/life enters. Photo by: Naledi Maraisane
The public lecture held in memory of Nokuthula Simelane highlighted how the impact of apartheid era crimes continues to be felt in contemporary times.
Nokuthula Simelane was only 23-years old when she was abducted.
Some say the TRC has failed a lot of victims and their families.
At the same time, Steve Biko’s 1977 Inquest was reopened this week at the Gqeberha High Court.
Imagine your loved one leaving the house under false pretences and never making it home; 49 years later and there is still no clarity on where she was or what happened to her.
On Wednesday, August 26, 2026, Ditsong National Museum of Military History hosted a public lecture titled The Unfinished Business of Justice: Remembrance, Resilience, and the TRC questioning the continued failure to resolve apartheid era cases. The public lecture was given by the museum’s curator for insignia, Tinyeko Ndhlovu, to honour of the life of anti-apartheid student activist Nokuthula Simelane.
Simelane (23), code name ‘Mpho’, was an Umkhonto weSizwe (MK) operative. On September 10, 1983, Simelane met Norman Mkhonza, an ‘askari’ (state spy) linked to the Soweto Intelligence Unit. As a result, Simelane was abducted by the Apartheid Security Branch and brutally tortured for an extensive period and eventually murdered.
A police docket was opened in 1996, followed by a short-lived investigation with no leads. Despite years of legal action and attempts by her family to uncover the truth, no one has been arrested or held accountable. It was only in 2019 that Simelane’s death certificate was issued.
Simelane was a Bachelor of Administration in Social Science, majoring in Public Administration, student at the University of Swaziland (currently University of Eswatini), at the time of her disappearance, and just a month shy of graduating.
Discussing her legacy, Ndhlovu said, “Simelane’s life and disappearance speak to the courage of young women in the liberation struggle, the enduring need for truth about enforced disappearances, and the pursuit of justice for apartheid-era crimes. Her story remains a reminder that South Africa’s freedom was secured through profound personal sacrifice.”
A photo of Tinyeko Ndhlovu speaking at the public lecture. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A major reflection from the day was the failings of the TRC in providing justice for victims. “The TRC has failed us. A lot of families’ history is suppressed,” said Ndhlovu.
Asked about the significance of younger generations knowing this history, Ndlovhu said “history repeats itself. It is very important for young people to know the history of the country for what it was.”
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of the public lecture presentation which includes a photo of Nokuthula Simelane. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
While the country nears the end of winter, for some residents, the weather is alreadychanging the way theyoperate.
For ordinary South Africans, the climate crisis is not abstract.
A potentially strong El Niño on the horizon.
Behind climate statistics are people like Phumzile.
As Johannesburg nears the end of winter, the heat is already changing how some people work, study and make a living. For Phumzile Mhlangeni, a street vendor on Jorissen street, hotter days mean fresh produce is spoiling faster, forcing her to throw away stock she can no longer sell.
“I’m slower to stock now because of the heat. The fruits might rot and I fear that”, Mhlangeni said.
Her experience come as scientists monitor a potentially strong El Niño expected later this year, a warning climate change professor Jennifer Fitchett from the University of the Witwatersrand echoes.
El Niño is a natural climate pattern that affects temperatures and rainfall around the world. In South Africa, its effects can vary, but Fitchett expects Johannesburg to experience a hot summer with potentially unpredictable rainfall.
Photo of street vendor, Phumzile Mhlangeni with her limited stock. Photo: Keletso Zwane
For Mhlangeni, the heat is already forcing her to change how she runs her business.
To adapt she now keeps her produce in a fridge at home and has started selling sweets, chips and cigarettes to bring in additional income.
Finding shaded areas to protect herself and her produce poses another challenge. Moving away from her usual spot has made it difficult for her regular customers to find her.
“Business is slower and people won’t go looking for me specifically if they can find someone else selling what I am selling,” she said.
The impact is not limited to people working outdoors.
The effects of rising temperatures are also being noticed by Wits students. Jessica Williams, a final year Bachelors of Social Work student said Johannesburg has felt increasingly warmer despite August being considered a winter month. Travelling between West and East Campus means she spends more time walking in the heat, making access to shade and water important.
Fitchett said climate change is adding another layer to the problem. A warmer baseline increases the risk of heatwaves and heat stress, particularly for people who work outdoors.
However, she cautioned against treating El Niño as a guarantee of extreme weather. South Africa does not experience every El Niño in the same way and seasonal forecasts cannot predict exactly what will happen in every area.
As the country moves towards a hotter summer, the uncertainty leaves businesses and communities preparing for conditions they cannot yet predict.
For Phumzile, the forecast is not simply about what may happen this summer. The effects of hotter weather are already changing how she works, what she sells and how much she earns.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of Street Vendor Phumzile Mhlangeni with a customer. Photo: Keletso Zwane
South Africa’s growing illicit economy is putting everyday consumers at risk.
South Africa’s illicit economy is estimated to account for 12–15% of Gross Domestic Product.
The Consumer Goods Council South Africa’s #YourChoiceHasPower campaign is urging consumers to make informed choices.
Consumers are caught between affordability, accessibility and safety.
A gun threat against investigative journalist Govan Whittles, dangerous methanol in illegal alcohol and poison sold by street vendors are some of the scenes that stuck out in Someone Always Pays, a documentary series examining South Africa’s billion-rand illicit economy.
The Consumer Goods Council of South Africa (CGCSA) launched its #YourChoiceHasPower campaign alongside the documentary, with the council estimating that illicit trade accounts for between 12% and 15% of South Africa’s GDP.
Photo of panel speakers at the launch of the #YourChoiceHasPower campaign. Photo: Nqobile Mtshali
Illicit trade is usually associated with cigarettes, alcohol and counterfeit clothing, but the problem stretches much further. Food, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, fuel and chemicals are also sold on the black market, meaning consumers don’t always know whether the products they buy are legitimate or substandard. Chief executive officer of CGCSA, Zinhle Tyikwe said reach of illicit goods is “becoming deeper and scarier.”
Economic pressure and unemployment can make cheaper illicit products attractive, creating a difficult choice between what people can afford and what is legitimate and safe. Tyikwe said, “It’s mainly unaffordability,” that keeps the market alive.
Illicit trade is not confined to poorer communities. Whittles’ team found illicit cigarettes being sold in affluent areas including Rosebank, Parkhurst and Sandton. The investigation also uncovered connections between different illicit industries and organised crime. “It’s all connected. It’s all organised crime,” Whittles said.
That interconnectedness helps explain why the cost of illicit trade extends beyond sales. Dangerous products can have consequences for ordinary people, while legitimate businesses can lose customers. Whittles said, “People pay with their lives,” and those who do not pay with their lives can pay with their livelihoods. His team encountered a shopkeeper who refused to sell illicit tobacco but struggled to attract customers because cheaper alternatives were available elsewhere.
The scale of the illicit economy creates further pressure on law enforcement. Whittles said authorities struggle to intercept and investigate every shipment, while Tyikwe said prosecution remains a problem, arguing that fines imposed on those caught selling illicit products are often insufficient to deter the trade.
The CGCSA says consumers can help disrupt this cycle by buying from legitimate outlets, being cautious when prices seem too good to be true and checking products before purchasing them. Its My CGCSA app allows consumers to scan products and access information about registered brand owners, while suspected illicit goods can be reported through the app.
FEATURED IMAGE: Cigarette’s showcased as examples of illicit goods at the launch of the #YourChoiceHasPower campaign. Photo: Nqobile Mtshali
Women in journalism face online abuse – threats, harassment and silencing – but their courage and solidarity, show that storytelling and seeking truth matter more than hate.
We live in a remarkable but complex time of converging crises. The shift from ‘traditional’ journalism to digital platforms has transformed the field. Journalists no longer wait for print deadlines or broadcast slots; they speak directly to audiences, explain issues, challenge power and help people make sense of a world that often feels overwhelming.
This excites me, as it opens new creative ways to engage, but it also scares me. Visibility comes with risks and for women, the price is disproportionately high – harassment designed to discredit, exhaust and silence. Threats of physical harm, sexualised abuse and online attacks have become the new ‘normal’.
On August 6, I attended a discussion in Johannesburg between Karyn Maughan, Qaanitah Hunter and Redi Tlhabi, titled Women VS. The Digital Machine. These are three prominent women in journalism, and they spoke about navigating digital hostility while remaining visible and credible. For women, visibility often comes with targeted abuse that is designed to drive us out of the conversation.
A SANEF study found that 75% of South African women journalists face online misogyny. I don’t need statistics to believe it. It is a lived reality for many of the women I look up to. The hostility is not random. It is ‘manufactured anger’, heightened by platforms whose business models thrive on outrage and misinformation.
Women covering politics or corruption are especially targeted. In 2024, Women Press Freedom identified 12 Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation (SLAPP) suits against women reporting on gender issues.
As a postgraduate journalism student, I often think about the work of photojournalist Lynsey Addario. Her career reshaped my understanding of journalism’s power. Addario is a strong advocate that women should not be limited in the assignments they work on. “Men and women have different access, we relate to people on different levels, and people respond to us differently, so certainly that will create a different dynamic with a camera, but I don’t think that, for example, as a woman I see differently,” she said. “What I choose to capture is possibly different from what my male colleagues do.”
Social media, the same tool that connects us to readers, also amplifies anger and division. Anonymous accounts and bots spread lies and hate. We are living in a time that some call ‘hyperpolitics’ – a state of politicisation without corresponding political action.
Yet women journalists continue to report, hold power to account and to tell stories that matter. Their dedication inspires me. It reminds me that journalism is not about ourselves; it is about trying to tell the truth, empathy and refusing silence. As Tlhabi said, “If we get obsessed with the hate we get, then they have won.” Section 16 of the South African Constitution protects freedom of expression. The question Tlhabi always comes back to is, “What is the cost of my silence? If I stay quiet, who benefits and who suffers?”
Safety of women in journalism. Graphic: Hannah Brown
There are no easy solutions. Governments and media institutions must take cyber misogyny seriously. Platforms must be held accountable for the anonymity that shields abusers. Newsrooms, even as they shrink, need stronger support systems. And as journalists we must find solidarity, because joy is a form of resistance too.
As Hunter shares, “Don’t become what you fight. Foster joy. There is nothing that can contend with hate more than seeing a happy woman.”
Journalism has the power to change how people see the world. That is worth fighting for and it is worth protecting. As filmmaker Alice Aedy stated, “how to bring stories to life in a landscape that feels more challenging but perhaps riper with possibility than ever.”
Despite the hostility, I feel hopeful entering this field. Women in journalism have already transformed the industry, but the attacks are disproportionate, and we must continue to stand together. The advice I hear repeated is simple: never stop learning, never stop reading, and never forget the privilege and responsibility of this work.
FEATURED IMAGE: Safety of women in journalism. Graphic: Hannah Brown
Through drums, song and dance, Hey Hillbrow! Let’s Dlala! filled the inner city with a celebration of art and belonging. During a time marked by xenophobic tension, it was a reminder that community and creativity are powerful forms of resistance.
The theme ARISE centred on birds, with the grey go-away-bird reframed as a call of hope.
More than 350 children and young people collaborated with artists at the Windybrow Arts Centre, designing costumes and choreography.
Coming only weeks after marches demanding the removal of foreign nationals, the parade’s imagery offered a counter-narrative of unity and shared streets.
On August 8, Hillbrow’s streets became a stage for music, dance and joy, as the Hey Hillbrow! Let’s Dlala! parade transformed the inner city. In a neighbourhood too often reduced to headlines of crime and decay, it tells a different story – one of collaboration and creativity, and one that celebrates freedom and belonging.
People took to the streets of Hillbrow in bird costumes. Photo: Hannah Brown
The event is organised by Windybrow Arts Centre alongside Shade, and since its launch in 2017, the festival has been reimagining public space. It is about “giving young people, across binaries, age and places of origin the space to play, to express and to have agency over their voices, their version of the inner city and how this place can be perceived,” states Tamzyn Botha, curator of the parade and director of Shade.
The parade carried a particular weight as South Africa continues to grapple with xenophobic violence. Only a few weeks earlier, Hillbrow had been shaken by the June 30 marches demanding the removal of foreign nationals.
Protests took place across South Africa. Photo: Hannah BrownProtests by the group ‘March and March’ took place on June 30, marking the unofficial ‘deadline’ set for undocumented foreign nationals to leave South Africa. Photos: Hannah Brown
Birds were at the centre of this year’s theme, ARISE. The festival’s mascot was the grey go-away-bird, or lourie, known for its sharp warning call. This was reframed as a call of hope, a reminder that communities can raise their voices in unity against hatred. Within this context, it felt like the festival answered back with colour, laughter and carried an important message: Hillbrow belongs to everyone.
The parade began at the Windybrow Arts Centre, which is a prominent hub of creativity in Johannesburg, before making its way through the streets. Hillbrow came alive with drums, costumes and singing. More than 350 children and young people ‘took flight’ across borders, their feathers fluttering as they danced, signifying freedom of movement and connection across divides.
Artistic expression was central to the parade’s formation. Children and teenagers spent two weeks learning new creative skills and collaborating with artists at the Windybrow Arts Centre to design costumes, choreography and music. As Botha said, “the ripples of this work, of the parade and the relationships made during this process, far outweigh the ‘end result’.” It brings young people together in a city where they are often excluded from decision-making. The creative process shows how, through art and performance, Hillbrow’s story can be shaped by its own residents and connectedness.
Hundreds of young people took to the streets for the seventh annual Hey Hillbrow! Let’s Dlala! parade. Photo: Hannah BrownHillbrow’s streets came alive with music and dancing. Photo: Hannah BrownYoung people dancing to the music during the parade. Photo: Hannah BrownSingers performing at the festival. Photo: Hannah Brown
The annual parade takes place on the eve of Women’s Day, marking 70 years since the historic 1956 Women’s March, when thousands of women stood against apartheid pass laws. This year’s theme felt especially poignant, as debates about who belongs in South Africa’s cities remain tense.
The contradictions felt impossible to ignore. Only weeks earlier, the same streets had been filled with chants of division.
Just as those women fought against restrictions on movement, the imagery of birds gliding through Hillbrow challenged today’s ‘cages’ of xenophobia. The festival did not erase the xenophobic tensions, but filling Hillbrow’s streets with birdsong, dance and laughter for an afternoon reminded Johannesburg that art can be resistance and hope.
In the years ahead, the organisers hope the parade will continue to offer “a shared sense of possibility through wonder, inside what feels like chaos”, says Botha. They envision it becoming more youth-led, “and this type of framing gives the parade over to those it represents.”
FEATURED IMAGE: People took to the streets of Hillbrow in bird costumes. Photo: Hannah Brown
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
