The value of gold is undeniable, yet the real question becomes, where and when did it all start?
One hundred and forty years ago, the fate of Johannesburg had undeniably changed when gold was first discovered in the south of the Witwatersrand. Johannesburg commonly referred to as eGoli; the city of gold, gained its notorious and prestigious title due to its richness in mining activities. The Witwatersrand distinguished itself as, “the largest gold-producing province ever discovered”, according to DavidRusso, Dr. Sharad Master and Professor Gillian Drennan in their Jozi140 Excursion Guidebook.
Yet, beneath the surface there is a deeper layer of history that predates the official discovery of gold. The Wits Geoscience Department partnered up with Evolutionary Studies Institute, Wits Origins Centre, Joburg Tourism, Mineralogical Association of South Africa, Harmony Gold and Historical Papers Research to provide a two-day excursion that uncovered the hidden stories that paved the way for the birth of gold.
Iron Age History
Upon arrival at Melville Koppies, tour guide, Sandra Murray shed light on the Iron Age history which Professor Drennan described as a time of “pre- mining, mining.” It was a time characterised by lot of economic activity, mining and trade at the koppies. Archaeologist, Professor RJ Mason discovered seven archaeological sites in the 1960s at the Melville Koppies such as Stone Age camps between 250 000 and 100 000 years old, a 500 year old ancestral Tswana iron furnace, and 300 year old Tswana hut floors and pottery. Other artefacts on display included stones used to make weapons and the only iron furnace that is being preserved at the Melville Koppies.
A photo of an information board about the Iron Age Kraal at Melville Koppies. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana An illustration of early farmers at Melville Koppies. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
Geological History
Alongside the rich remnants of the iron age, is the geological history embedded in nature that precedes the existence of humankind. The contorted beds (see fact box) found alongside the pavements near Helpmekaar College act as a testimony. Professor Drennan said, “Without the contorted beds we would not have discovered the gold in the extension of the East Rand and West Rand,” and this is due to their highly magnetic nature which aided in the discovery of goldfields beyond the Central Rand. “The Contorted beds have been around for roughly 2.9 billion years and give a snapshot of what was going on around the time, [in a geological context], you can see when life was coming in, evidence that there was oxygen in the early atmosphere,” added Dr Glynn.
Info Box
Contorted Bed iron formation, also known as the Jan Smuts bed (South African Committee for Stratigraphy, 1980), is known for the small-scale incongruent folding present in it at many localities. Source: Economic Geology
When one looks closely, you can see a glistening effect within the contorted beds, which is due to individual crystals. Alongside the magical contorted beds is the Witpoortjie Waterfall located at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens where the water flows over the white quartzites of the Witwatersrand and shale rock. According to Whitfield, “the falls were already recognised before the discovery of gold and were recorded on Fred Struben’s 1885 prospecting map of the district.”
A photo of the Witpoortjie Waterfall at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
“Prior to the discovery of the Main Reef in 1886, the Witwatersrand was a sparsely populated landscape of open grassy plains, rocky quartzite ridges, and numerous streams and waterfalls. Today, the same landscape has been transformed into the Johannesburg Metropolitan Area… the present-day landscape is strongly controlled by the underlying geology,” writes David Russo, Dr. Sharad Master and Professor Gillian Drennan in the guidebook.
The Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens also offers a self-guided trail where one can learn about the history of rocks that were significant in shaping the Witwatersrand landscape.
A photo of a detailed information board about granite at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A photo of a detailed information board about Tillite at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A photo of an information board about coal at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A photo of a detailed information board about The Bushveld Complex at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A photo of a detailed information board about Quartzite at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Gardens. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
Northwards House and Mineshaft Museum
To get a glimpse of what life was like for mine owners, we visited a 122-year-old mansion, Northwards House, which was initially built in 1904 for John Dale Lace and his wife Josè Dale Lace. Mr Lace owned the Lace Diamond Mine. A tragic fire forced the Dale Lace’s to move out in 1911. A year later, gold Randlord Sir George Albu and his family moved into the renovated residence. Albu was one of the founders of General Mining and Finance Corporation. The Northwards House acts as a physical manifestation of its mining legacy. Inside the house, there was the business room which consisted of books about mining and the boardroom which has a map layout dating back to 1907 titled “Clifton” which is modern day Braamfontein, and on the map are familiar street names which are still used today such as: Jorissen Street, Juta Street and De Korte Street. Throughout the excursions, one is constantly reminded about how the past informs the present.
A photo of the Northwards House. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana A close-up photo of the Dale Lace family portraits. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
The commercialisation of gold
From the physical house we went straight into the underground – the source of mining, as we explored the Mineshaft Museum also known as the Ferreira Mine Stope, located three floors below the Standard Bank Building. The preserved mine site offers a real-life example of life during the Witwatersrand Gold Rush in 1886. The Ferreira Mine was one of the first mines established following the discovery of payable gold on the Witwatersrand in 1886. The dim lighting and photographs of mine workers around the walls allow one to travel back in time.
Yet the question of who was the first to commercialise gold still lingers in contemporary times; this was the opening question during Bruce Cairncross’s keynote address on Saturday, September 18, 2026, at the Wits origins Centre. In relation to the discovery of gold in 1886, he said, “the history is contentious, there were activities happening in South Africa, prior to 1886 at the Witwatersrand.” Cairncross took the audience through a timeline that credited Pieter Jacob Marais in 1853 who panned gold, yet Marais did not find its source. Additionally, there were also the Struben brothers, namely Frederick and Harry Struben who claimed to have discovered gold.
Prior to the commercialisation of gold in 1886, Frederick drew a map in 1885 which consisted of a layout of Langlaate discovery site being the Main Gold Reef. Cairncross proceeded to give a detailed overview of gold and asked the critical question of “What’s the future of gold?” to which he answered: “It looks a bit dismal in South Africa,” partly due to the fact that South Africa is not producing as much gold as it once did. To end off the first day of the excursion, the Wits Geoscience Department had an exhibition which consisted of gold samples as well as photograph archives that speak to the history of gold mining.
A photo that showcases the Wits Geoscience exhibition at the Wits Origins Centre. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
Bringing it back to the present at Museum Africa, an exhibition by Tshepo Bopape depicts his artistic interpretation of the industry, and asks, “what gives something value?” Bopape’s artwork is centred around Kimberely and its diamonds which funded the mining in Johannesburg. The art critically analyses, “the relationship between man and precious stones, it is not just economic but also psychological and spiritual,” Bopape shared. The art acts as an intersection between the history of colonisation with an interrogation around value systems and the division of society on a class and racial basis.
A photo of Tshepo Bopape looking at his artwork at Museum Africa. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
Therefore, it is evidently clear that the history of gold in Johannesburg’s Witwatersrand is multifaceted and cannot be understood through a singular story. The contribution of nature and significant landmarks contextualise how gold was formed and commercialised. However, it is important to note that the work of the unsung heroes being black mining labourers had an immense impact on the success of the gold mining sector.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of a contorted bed which was near the Helpmekaar College. Photo: Sikelelekile Pahlana
Lesotho’s frozen Maluti Mountains is home to Club Maluti – a rustic, analogue sanctuary where generations of Witsies have found lifelong bonds and adventure on its slopes.
Founded in 1968, Club Maluti remains the cradle of African snow sports.
A nearly 60-year partnership with Wits Snow Ski Club turns the remote mountain cabin into an iconic student rite of passage.
The hand-built, member-run lodge offers an analogue escape where phone screens give way to fireside traditions.
Up at 3,200 metres in the Maluti Mountains, where sub-zero air bites your cheeks and river gorges freeze into solid glass, sits a rustic timber lodge. Its living heartbeat the generations of snow-seekers that visit during the colder months. Tucked away in Lesotho, ten minutes down the pass from Afriski, Club Maluti (Club M) is a place where city stress dies on the switchbacks and generations of Witsies have found a second home.
Stepping through the timber door of Club Maluti after the 5-hour drive up from Johannesburg, the first thing that hits is not the cold; it is the immediate warmth of woodsmoke, room-wide laughter, and decades of lived history. Shedding my heavy winter coat as the sound of music hums through the room, I realise I haven’t just entered a cabin; I’ve stepped into a living time capsule and close-knit community.
How a crazy idea built a legacy
Sitting near the fireplace listening to older members share stories over cold beers, the roots of the place come into sharp focus. The story began in the mid-1960s with Syd Chaplin, who ran pony treks in the region before establishing Oxbow Lodge near the Malibamat’so River. Looking to draw winter crowds to the frozen highlands, Chaplin connected with Phillip Lloyde, a ski enthusiast, alongside Joburg-based friends Brian de la Harpe and Stan Flemming.
The four friends saw the snowy Maluti peaks as an ideal and natural playground for winter sports. Driven by a shared love for skiing and working through official channels, they secured permission from King Moshoeshoe II of Lesotho. They signed a 100-year lease on the land, under the strict condition that no one could profit from the club, before officially forming Club Maluti. What followed in 1967 was endless weekend work parties where members hauled timber up unpaved tracks; they completed the original A-frame in April 1968.
When their initial slope proved too sunny, local mine manager Keith Whitelock pointed them ten kilometres east to the Mahlasela Bowl, a cold, shaded natural amphitheatre. It proved to be the finest natural slope in Lesotho, establishing the cradle of African snow sports. Throughout the 1970s and 80s, South African families crossed the border to escape city life, skiing, ice-skating on frozen gorges, and dancing on lodge tables late into the night.
Original A-frame building during winter. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
When campus met the mountain
Walking through the cabin, I quickly notice how deeply Wits University is woven into the floorboards. In 1984, Wits student Ivan van Eck saw a newspaper photo of someone ice-skating in Lesotho. Entranced, van Eck drove up to investigate, fell in love with the place, and founded the Wits Snow Ski Club (WSSC) to bring campus along.
Van Eck eventually took over ski rentals and set up makeshift rope tows at the club in 1991. However, his push to create commercial ski packages directly violated the King’s non-profit mandate, famously leading to his deportation by Lesotho border officials in 1992 for operating a business without a hotel licence.
Meanwhile, through the late 1980s and 90s, Club M member Ernesto Casserino conducted feasibility and environmental studies with the Lesotho government. His work laid the groundwork for fellow members Graham Joyce, Oliver Schwankhart, and Peter Pyper to partner with Wessel Bosman and open Afriski resort in 2000.
Through changing resort developments and shifting border regulations over the decades, the bond between WSSC and Club M remained untouched, creating a bridge between varsity life and the peaks of Lesotho. Former Club M Chairman Mehow Granicki explained that this pipeline is what makes the club unique: “If you get involved with Wits Ski Club, you’re always welcome to continue [as a full member] at Club Maluti after you finish your studies. Your varsity mates become your winter mates.”
Archive newspaper article from 1984 that made Evan van Eck go to Lesotho and later establish the Wits Snow Ski Club.
The shift to boardsand living walls
Standing in front of photo archives from the 80s and 90s, I watched the club’s visual story unfold on its lounge walls. The black-and-white photos of the 70s, the bright clothes of the 80s, and the rise of snowboarding on the continent in the 90s.
“The students are a great litmus test,” Granicki noted. “They come like every generation with their music, quirks, and ideologies. The club absorbs, welcomes, and adapts. We had electro, now it’s drum & bass. We charged camera batteries, now cell phones, but it’s still the same sound system, and it’s still the same generator.”
When snowboarding exploded internationally in the late 80s, students brought back overseas VHS tapes, cut a window into an A-frame wall, mounted a monitor, and looped snowboard videos. Student energy brought freeride trick culture, vibrant gear, and fresh music to the slopes.
Today, almost every member snowboards. The communal shed is packed with shared boards and boots, keeping snow sports accessible for students. Down at Afriski, supportive members help newcomers set up their gear and carve their first turns.
The rituals that build a family
Experiencing the lodge firsthand reveals how much care keeps it running. Completely member-run, the property features the main A-frame lounge, the timber B-frame bunkhouse, and the Park Home sleeping quarters kept warm by anthracite stoves.
Every couch and timber beam represents collective effort. As Granicki reflected: “Each building had an era, a crew, a mission.” From wrap-around seating to the wood-fired hot tub steaming under sub-zero skies, everything was hand-built during voluntary off-season work parties. At the heart of daily life are Basotho hosts Maskok and Ntja Sepatla. Living on site, Maskok lights the fires before dawn while Ntja maintains the generator and water systems.
Access remains strictly word-of-mouth through member referrals. Every trip kicks off with Friday night introductions around the fire, where guests share their names, trip count, and a claim to fame before receiving a mandatory weekend nickname.
“That drive and weekend in the mountains bonds you in such a healthy way,” Granicki explained. “By maintaining rituals, we maintain culture across generations.”
Jason Roberts DJing in A-Frame. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
The soul of Club M
For Vishaylin Mahadeo, who joined WSSC in 2011, the lodge became his anchor: “It’s home to me; it’s my family, my safe space. When going through a difficult time, my first thought is, ‘let’s go to the mountain.’ I have snowboarded everywhere in the world, and this mountain is still so special to me. My university experience was created through Ski Club; I even extended my degree just because I loved it so much!”
Granicki, who first visited as a matric student, feels that same pull: “Club M is home to misfits, geniuses, daredevils, and lost souls [who are] funny, beautiful, and live for the moment… My favourite personal memory is meeting my wife up there. Our adventure began from loving winter and the outdoors.”
In a world driven by screens, Club M remains fiercely analogue.
“It represents freedom, exploration, and self-discovery. You’re in the middle of two mountains, under stars, in a cabin when it’s snowing. My hope is that it remains a time capsule that forces you to be more of yourself, having fun, being human. Here’s to the snow!”
Archive newspaper from 1978 showing members broom balling on the iced river.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of Club M members at Afriski. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
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.
An image of Uthingo Lwamankosazana at Umkhehlo. Photo: Sanele Sithole
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.
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
In episode six of We Should Be Writing season 7, the team unpacked the evolution of music as a form of expression and protest, through four decades in the South African context. The episode explores the journey of South African music and its consumers from the 80s, 90s, early 2000s and contemporary listeners. From the […]
