To meet persistent service delivery needs, the government has proposed a VAT increase of 1% over two years, raising the rate to 16% by 2026/27.
Finance Minister Enoch Gondongwana finally delivered the 2025 Budget speech on March 12, after a shock cancellation in February. The approval process will follow, with Parliament set to review, debate, and vote on the proposal.
While much of the public debate has focused on the proposed VAT increase, Gondongwana said “the central issue is fostering economic growth for the majority. Over the past decade, South Africa’s economy has stagnated, with GDP growth averaging under two percent”.
To achieve the country’s goals of redistribution and structural transformation, a faster, more inclusive economy is essential.
The 2025 budget outlines a strategy centered on “macroeconomic stability, structural reforms, infrastructure investment, and improving state capability to unlock the country’s productive capacity,” said Gondongwana.
With fiscal stability in focus, the budget also targets reducing debt-service costs and addressing critical issues like Eskom’s debt. Stabilising the economy, enhancing job creation, and advancing social services, are all at the top of the list.
Infrastructure remains a key focus in the 2025 Budget, with over R1 trillion allocated to capital spending over the next three years. Key areas of investment include R402 billion for transport, R219.2 billion for energy, and R156.3 billion for water and sanitation.
Projects such as upgrading roads, rebuilding the Passenger Rail Agency of South Africa’s infrastructure, and expanding water systems are central to driving economic growth, creating jobs, and improving public services. Public-private partnerships and innovative financing, including an infrastructure bond and credit guarantee vehicle, will further support these efforts.
Godongwana said the VAT increase could help meet persistent service delivery needs. It is expected to generate R28 billion in 2025/26 and R14.5 billion in 2026/27. After weighing alternatives like increasing corporate or personal income taxes, the VAT increase was deemed the most viable option to avoid further spending cuts and ensure essential services continue.
In social security, R284.7 billion is allocated to grants, with increases for the elderly, disabled, and child support. The COVID-19 Social Relief of Distress (SRD) grant will continue until March 2026, with 28 million beneficiaries set to benefit.
The South African Revenue Service (SARS) receives R3.5 billion this year and an additional R4 billion for improved tax collection. Efforts to broaden the tax base and improve compliance will help fund essential government services.
For early childhood development and education, the government allocates R10 billion to increase subsidies and expand access to early education for 700,000 more children. This investment supports the foundation for a better future workforce.
In addition to these measures, funding is set aside for critical health and security services, including a R28.9 billion boost to healthcare to retain workers and ensure adequate staffing in hospitals.
But none of these measures can be implemented without a majority vote in favour, so all eyes will be on parliamentarians for what happens next.
FEATURED IMAGE: The cost of living: South African Rands may not stretch as far if proposed VAT increase takes effect. Photo: Adobe Stock
Thirty years after the dawn of democracy, Johannesburg remains a city of profound contradictions.
In 1994, South Africa stood at the threshold of an era that promised equality, freedom and unity under the banner of democracy. The country’s first democratic elections saw the formal dismantling of apartheid – a system of institutionalised racial segregation that had oppressed millions of people for nearly half a century. The world watched in awe as Nelson Mandela cast his vote in South Africa’s first democratic elections, a momentous symbol of the country’s transition from apartheid to democracy.
Johannesburg, a city of gold and dreams, was at the heart of this new South Africa. It was a city meant to reflect the promise of equality, opportunity and freedom for all, including those people who sought refuge in its streets. But 30 years later, Johannesburg tells a more complex story.
Although democracy may have opened its arms to political freedom, it also incubated the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments and left economic divides not only unbridged but, in some cases, exacerbated. As the wealth gap widens, many South Africans are left asking why democracy has not resulted in fair economic distribution. This has led to socioeconomic upheaval and created fertile ground for the anti-immigrant movement in the heart of Johannesburg.
A history of migration
South Africa’s history with migration, both forced and voluntary, predates the advent of democracy. Under colonialism and apartheid, the country’s economy heavily relied on migrant labour from neighbouring countries like Mozambique, Malawi and Lesotho to fuel its mines and agricultural sectors. However, the legal framework of apartheid strictly regulated the movement of black South Africans and foreign workers, maintaining rigid social hierarchies.
With the end of apartheid in 1994, South Africa became a beacon of hope for many people across the continent. Neighbouring countries, having supported the anti-apartheid struggle, anticipated that the new South Africa would lead the charge in promoting pan-African unity and open its borders to fellow Africans seeking better opportunities. Indeed, South Africa has experienced a significant influx of immigrants, particularly from neighbouring countries in southern Africa.
The new government aimed to dismantle the socioeconomic structures that had marginalised most of the population. Economic instability, political turmoil and violence in countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique and the Democratic Republic of the Congo have driven many of their citizens to seek refuge in South Africa, with Johannesburg being a primary destination.
The post-apartheid government embraced a more open immigration policy, reflecting its commitment to human rights. However, this liberal stance has not been without friction. Jo’burg’s urban environment has seen a rise in competition for jobs, housing and services, often leading to resentment among local communities towards immigrants.
Socioeconomic factors
Johannesburg’s skyline, dotted with high-rise buildings and cranes, suggests a city of unrelenting progress. Yet, beneath this glittering façade lies one of the most unequal cities in the world. The World Bank and various studies indicate that South Africa remains a highly unequal society. A significant portion of the population was denied access to economic possibilities because of apartheid policies and South Africa began the 1990s with already high levels of inequality. The Gini coefficient, a common measure of inequality, places South Africa among the most unequal countries globally, and nowhere is this divide more palpable than in Johannesburg. Wealthy suburbs like Sandton flourish, whereas townships and informal settlements such as Alexandra languish in poverty and neglect.Economic inequality in Johannesburg is not a new phenomenon. Still, the promise of democracy – with political freedom supposed to translate into economic opportunity – has failed many people. Thirty years later, democracy has not led to the mass reduction in inequality that so many people hoped for. South Africa’s high unemployment rate, particularly among the youth, has fuelled frustrations that are often misdirected towards immigrants. Many South Africans perceive immigrants as competitors for scarce resources and jobs. This perception is exacerbated by high levels of poverty and inequality, particularly in informal settlements.
Many immigrants in Johannesburg rely on informal or small-scale businesses to earn a living, facing opportunity and vulnerability in a challenging economic climate. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
As democracy stumbled in delivering economic equality, Johannesburg also became a beacon for migrants across Africa fleeing political instability, war and economic hardship. Zimbabweans, Nigerians, Somalis and Congolese, among others, arrived in the city in search of work and safety. They brought with them their entrepreneurial spirit, opening small businesses in the informal sector and contributing to the city’s vibrant culture.
But for many native South Africans living in poverty, these migrants became convenient scapegoats. As unemployment surged to more than 30% and service-delivery failed, accusations that foreigners were “stealing jobs” or “draining public resources” took root. Anti-immigrant sentiments morphed into violent outbreaks of xenophobia, most notably in 2008 and again in 2015. Johannesburg, the city meant to embody the dreams of a democratic South Africa, became the epicentre of anti-immigrant violence.
Police officers patrolling neighbourhoods known for tensions. South African authorities play a critical role in managing tensions, with police presence aiming to prevent violence and protect communities. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
Perceptions of crime have significantly influenced anti-immigrant sentiment. A series of violent incidents involving immigrants have given rise to the stereotype that foreign nationals are responsible for crime in the city. Although studies indicate that crime is a multifaceted issue not limited to immigrant populations, these perceptions have been manipulated by politicians and media, deepening divisions.
Political rhetoric plays a crucial role in shaping public opinion on immigration. Political parties and leaders have used anti-immigrant rhetoric to galvanise support, portraying immigrants as a burden on social services and a threat to job security. This has led to waves of xenophobic violence, with Johannesburg witnessing several violent outbreaks against immigrant communities. This politicisation has further entrenched negative attitudes, undermining social cohesion.
The rise of movements like Operation Dudula – a vigilante group targeting foreign-owned businesses and calling for the mass deportation of immigrants – reflects how dangerous this scapegoating can become. Such movements frame the immigration issue in narrow, exclusionary terms, reducing it to a zero-sum game in which the presence of foreign nationals is directly correlated with the suffering of South Africans.
Politicians such as minister of sports, arts and culture Gayton McKenzie, the leader of the Patriotic Alliance, and former mayor of Johannesburg Herman Mashaba, who leads ActionSA, are among the politicians who promoted anti-immigrant rhetoric.
McKenzie has called for the enforcement of stricter immigration laws to control the influx of illegal immigrants. He believes that this would help to protect jobs for South Africans, particularly in impoverished communities. In turn, Mashaba emphasises the importance of adhering to the rule of law and has advocated for improved border security and better tracking of immigrants within the country.
Public policy specialist Dr Kagiso “TK” Pooe, says McKenzie and Mashaba have highlighted a problem that is often ignored. The South African government and some liberal-leaning publications have glossed over average South Africans discomfort with illegal migration. “What parties like Action SA, the Patriotic Alliance and the like did was address their long-ignored plea for redress on this matter,” he says.
In response to rising xenophobia, numerous civil society organisations have emerged in Johannesburg, advocating for immigrant rights and fostering dialogue between communities. Initiatives like the African Centre for Migration & Society have sought to document immigrants’ experiences and challenge negative stereotypes. These organisations play a vital role in promoting tolerance and understanding amid the ongoing challenges.
Thandi, who asked that only her first name be used, is a 28-year-old Malawian immigrant who arrived in Johannesburg two years ago, fleeing economic hardship and political instability in her home country. Lacking legal documentation, she found herself in a desperate situation, needing to support her family back home.
After weeks of searching for work, Thandi finally found a job at a local restaurant. However, the experience was far from what she had hoped. Her employer took advantage of her undocumented status, paying her significantly less than other employees and making her work long hours without breaks. “I was afraid to speak up,” Thandi recalls. “I needed the job, but I knew I was being treated unfairly.”
One day, Thandi fell ill and could not report to work. When she returned, her employer informed her that she would not be paid for the days she missed and threatened to report her to immigration authorities if she continued to cause “trouble”. Feeling powerless, she accepted the terms, enduring the harsh conditions for fear of losing her only source of income.
Thandi’s story highlights the vulnerability faced by many undocumented immigrants in Johannesburg. They often endure exploitation, fearing legal repercussions while striving for better lives. “I just wanted a chance to work and support my family,” Thandi says, emphasising the harsh reality of seeking opportunities in a challenging environment.
Democracy, capitalism and the divided city
Immigration to South Africa has been growing, with significant numbers of migrants moving for employment and education. However, there was a decline in migration during the covid-19 pandemic.
Anti-immigrant sentiment in Johannesburg is not only a fringe phenomenon: it has found resonance in political movements and everyday conversation.
One man, who prefers to remain anonymous, speaks honestly about his frustrations. “These foreigners come here and take what’s ours,” he says. “We don’t have enough jobs, houses or food, but they seem to have their own businesses and drive cars. Why should they get what we don’t have? This is our country.”
So, where does the blame lie? Has democracy failed Johannesburg, or has the city’s experiment with capitalism exacerbated the divide? The Human Sciences Research Council’s South African Social Attitudes survey found that only 48% South Africans were happy with democracy. Pooe believes there is a declining satisfaction with liberal democracy.
According to political analyst Dr Thandeka Dlamini, the blame should be shared. “Democracy in South Africa is a political achievement, but without economic transformation, it was never going to be enough,” she says. “The country has followed a neoliberal economic model that prioritises markets and profits, often at the expense of addressing deep-rooted inequalities. Democracy promised the people freedom, but it allowed capitalism to run rampant. The result is a divided society where the elite – both black and white – prosper, while the rest fight over scraps.”
Her words are echoed by migrant advocate and activist Musa Nkosi, who points out the irony in South Africa’s xenophobia. “Johannesburg was built on the backs of migrant labour – first from the rural parts of South Africa, and later from all over Africa,” Nkosi says. “To say that migrants are now the problem is not only false, but deeply hypocritical. The problem is the system that has failed to provide for everyone.”
A fresh wave of xenophobic tension now threatens to tear apart the fragile social fabric of South Africa’s largest city. Recently, in Soweto’s Naledi township, a tragic incident underscored how deeply these divides run. Five children, aged between 6 and 7, lost their lives after allegedly consuming snacks purchased from a local spaza shop. As news spread that the shop was operated by foreign nationals, rage and grief morphed into violence, reigniting simmering anti-immigrant sentiments.
“We’ve been complaining for a long time about the conditions in these shops,” says Zandile Tshabalala, a Naledi resident. “But no one listens. Now, children are dead. These foreign shops come here, sell us expired goods, and no one cares until something like this happens.”
For many people, the presence of foreign-owned spaza shops is symbolic of their broader economic exclusion. Many South Africans feel that migrants have cornered the informal retail market, while locals struggle to find jobs or open their own businesses. The economic frustration, coupled with poor regulation and governance, has turned foreign nationals into easy targets for displaced anger.
Amid the escalating crisis, the South African department of labour has weighed in, taking a balanced stance. The department has expressed concerns over the conditions in which many spaza shops operate, calling for stricter compliance with labour and health regulations. However, it has also emphasised that the violence and destruction of foreign-owned businesses are unlawful and counterproductive.
The tragedy in Naledi is a stark reminder of the fragile state of democracy in Johannesburg. Although the city has politically transformed over the past 30 years, it remains economically divided. Democracy in Johannesburg has undeniably brought political freedom, but it has failed to dismantle the economic disparities that plague its residents. The rise of anti-immigrant sentiments is an unfortunate byproduct of this failure, with migrants often bearing the brunt of frustration in a system that seems rigged against the poor.
FEATURE IMAGE: Immigrants residing in the informal settlement of Hillbrow gathered together. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
The right to food is enshrined in the South African Constitution, yet millions of people are still food insecure. In Jo’burg, hunger does not manifest evenly– it is a consequence of inequality, the ghost that haunts this metropolis.
Johannesburg has always been a city of extremes. It was never intended to be an equal city and today it still tears at the seams trying to accommodate the two extreme ends of the economic spectrum – and all the people who fall in between.
As a city that contains such a wide array of lifestyles, from the moneyed elite to people just scraping by, our culture reflects a swathe of differences, all with their own traditions, values and tastes. Nowhere is this more evident than in our food.
Perhaps this is why Jo’burg was voted the second-best city in the world for food in May 2024. There is a wealth of restaurants in Jo’burg that display the city’s diversity with their creative and delectable cuisine.
Time Out, which bestowed Jo’burg with this ranking, gave special mention to Braamfontein, ‘the pulse of the city’, for its food. Time Out recognised the ‘innovative ventures combining the forces of food and culture’ in the area.
Indeed, Braam has an abundance of phenomenal places to eat. But the award does not acknowledge that this is not the Braam most people experience.
For most South Africans, food is a tool of survival, not something to be savoured. For 63.5% of South African families, food insecurity is an everyday struggle.
In the four square kilometers of Braamfontein, the city’s vast gap between rich and poor is quite clear in the pervasive food inequality.
How is it that being able to eat is still a major hurdle for people living in the city – even for those living around a prestigious university and in a gentrified urban area?
The many faces of Braamfontein: the suburb as a case study
Braamfontein is a stellar example of the past 30 years of democracy distilled into one place. In the late ’90s, Braam was run down and tired, neglected in the face of all the overwhelming reworking that needed to be done by the new government.
But in 2002, the Johannesburg Development Agency embarked on a multimillion-rand regeneration programme for Braam, recognising its importance to Jo’burg as an economic hub.
Since then, Braam has bloomed: R4-billion of private investment has been poured into the area, and it has become the place to be for many young professionals with cash to burn.
To many Jo’burgers today, Braam is synonymous with trendy bars, beautiful street art and, of course, delicious food.
But Braam is so representative of post-apartheid South Africa because this change, although real, is limited – and only certain people get to bask in its glow.
On the outskirts of this shiny, new Braam, struggling students and residents still live – and still need to eat. What they have access to reflects dire levels of food insecurity and the unequal nature of access to food in South Africa.
The award-winning Salvation Cafe, and the sophisticated Olives & Plates both sit within Braam’s perimeters, small enclaves of cosmopolitan cuisine that in no way align with the average Braam resident’s wallet.
Around the corner and over the way are the everyday food spots that Braam residents actually frequent: fast-food joints, spaza shops and feeding schemes.
These are the many faces of Braamfontein, all painting a picture of the complex and devastating way that food accessibility still stands as a major marker of inequality, starkly segregating South Africans even today.
One of Braam’s most visited food spots – the Mcdonald’s on Jorissen. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Where convenience trumps all – your average spaza shop near Wits University. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
School kids stop for something to eat at one of the spaza shops in Braam. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Savouring the city
Remko van Niekerk is the co-owner of Salvation Cafe, which was established in 2006.
Salvation Cafe is nestled in the heart of 44 Stanley, among boutique stores and coffee shops. Van Niekerk calls it “an artisanal destination” – a place where people’s creations, including food creations, are treated like art.
As he sees it, “44 Stanley has mostly remained an oasis in the urban jungle of Jozi”, despite the changes in the area.
The café is a popular brunch spot under the cover of trees, surrounded by hanging pot plants, and complete with an outdoor fountain. Everything about it is meant to attract patrons from Westcliff and other affluent Northern suburbs.
Salvation Cafe sign. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
A full house at Salvation Cafe, Braamfontein Werf. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Elevenses at Salvation Cafe, featuring their iconic salmon eggs benedict. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Although Van Niekerk says gentrification has increased in the area, he and his staff have also had to deal with the infrastructure issues that plague Braam, like power and water outages.
To combat such expenses while still maintaining a profit, he says the restaurant’s “prices will just have to keep going up”, particularly given the need to pay for alternative energy sources like generators.
On top of this, Van Niekerk’s boss (and wife), chef Claudia Giannoccaro, “is not keen on using lower quality ingredients, thus prices will have to go up accordingly”.
Indeed, Salvation Cafe meals are nutritious, fresh and tasty, loaded with greens and healthy carbs. Their prices reflect this. Burgers range between R130 and R150, salads between R90 and R138, and most lunches cost about R118 (unless you want the teriyaki salmon, which is Salon Qualitaire).
A five-minute drive away on the quiet end of the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) West Campus, Olives & Plates Wits Club and Conference is housed in a Transvaal vernacular building, with a gorgeous courtyard surrounded by rose bushes and, yes, a fountain.
It is run by sisters Litza Frangos and Andria Neophytou and their husbands, Apo and Dimitri.
The owners of Olives & Plates, who declined requests for interviews, have grown their business into a successful chain of restaurants after originally beginning as canteen caterers for Wits staff. The business was shut down during the #FeesMustFall protests, after which the owners decided to take the business in a different direction.
Inspired by the owners’ Greek roots, the restaurant focuses on elevating classic meals like toasted sandwiches and salads while adding a Grecian flair. Lunches here cost between R150 and R200. Expensive fillet steaks seem to be a speciality and are regular menu picks.
Lunch time at Olives&Plates on West campus, Wits University. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The pristine rose garden at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The indoor decor at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Lunch fare at Olives&Plates. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
But a restaurant that charges R90 for a fruit salad is a bizarre sight on Wits campus, where students have little choice in what they eat and often go hungry.
So, although fresh food is delivered into Braam every day, the fridges of many students in residence sit empty. What this speaks to, and what the statistics reflect, is that food insecurity is clearly not an issue of supply, but an issue of access.
Walking the breadline
If you walk east from Olives & Plates for about 10 minutes, you will reach The Sanctuary, a beautiful white building that is home to the Wits Citizenship and Community Outreach (WCCO) programme. Every week, the WCCO feeds about 1,000 food-insecure students, who must stand in a long queue to receive their daily meal. Three days a week, the WCCO hands out food parcels of basic groceries to students in need.
Karuna Singh, the WCCO manager, says that in five years the organisation went from handing out “20 parcels to 3,000 parcels” every week.
With ever-rising food prices and stagnant grocery budgets, many students need extra help now more than ever. The National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) grocery budget has increased only 10% (about R150) over the past four years, whereas food prices increased 50% during the same period.
Need far outweighs what the WCCO can provide, and even what it does offer depends on the tenuous supply of charitable donations. In fact, since 2017, the donations the WCCO has received have been halved as companies slowly pull back.
“The food bank is not sustainable; the hot meals are not sustainable,” Singh says. To mitigate this, the WCCO has set up food commons, growing vegetables around campus that give students food sovereignty and sustainable, fresh options.
One of the WCCO’s many mini veggie patches around campus at Wits. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The Wits communal veggie patch on East Campus. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The WCCO’s chronically low food stores. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The WCCO building. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The students at the food bank are not destitute. Mostly, they are young people skating along the line of functional poverty; children of single parents or oldest children having to send some of their NSFAS money home each month.
Rivaldo Jantjies, a fellow journalism student at Wits, survives each month from the money his mom can send him. “I can only buy essentials, you know – noodles, bread, peanut butter, milk, sugar – the basic things I need to survive.”
“When it got to the point [at which] I no longer had those basic things, I would go to [the] WCCO,” he says.
Walking past students on campus, you might not see it, but “a lot of students are struggling”, Jantjies observes. “The lines [at the WCCO] are always long.”
Kea Maphila, an international relations honours student, spoke to the all-too-common experience of students in desperate situations while awaiting NSFAS funding.
“My first year, I only got approved in September”, she tells me. In the interim, she says her mom ‘was paying for my res and giving me allowance… It wasn’t a nice experience.’
Maphila’s situation was manageable, but for many students this would have been catastrophic.
NSFAS provides a stipend for groceries, which is usually about R1,650, but subject to change. “My budget is around R1,000,” Maphila says, which is “enough for groceries, but only for groceries”.
For Maphila, food insecurity is a consuming force, forcing students to prioritise their basic survival. “It’s stressful not knowing when your next meal is, but you’re supposed to be at class at 8am, concentrating,” she says.
Thoughtfully, she tells me: “It seeps into every area of your life… you can’t go on with the rest of your day. It removes so much integrity from a person.”
Integrity is a major part of food insecurity, particularly in a social environment like a campus; inequality among students is often emphasised by the type of food they can afford.
This leads back to basic economic inequality – which, in South Africa, is a racial issue, due to the enduring effects of apartheid.
Food insecurity does not exist in a vacuum and food inequality does not sit squarely within the confines of Braam. It is a countrywide problem – an unsolved one, despite promises and attempts by the government.
Zooming out: the economics of inequality
If someone is shopping on a monthly NSFAS allowance of R1,650, a South African Social Security Agency (SASSA) pension of R1,280, a monthly domestic worker’s salary of R3,349, or receives the national minimum wage of R,4400 a month, groceries in today’s economy are almost unaffordable.
This is for a basket of 28 items. But for a basket of just nine basic items (maize, margarine, peanut butter, bananas, potatoes, IQF chicken, black tea, sugar and long-life milk) the prices are still egregious.
Low-priced items will always be the first choice for poor people when buying food. Grocery stores are aware of this fact, enticing them to make their own brand of cheaper products for mass sale.
Closely related to the food insecurity and inequality conundrum is the persistent issue of nutrition insecurity. Across these four major grocery chains, the same product, due to their varying product value and price, will ultimately hold different nutritional values.
Woolworths margarine has the clear nutritional edge: it is the most energising and fatty margarine, but not too packed with sodium. It costs R32.99, in comparison to R17.99 at Checkers, the least nutritious option.
A research paper from the DSI-NRF Centre of Excellence in Food Security explains the reason behind this unfair price leveraging. The research team found that “the minimalist stance of the government” regarding grocery price setting has granted food companies free reign, with “big retail chains [emerging] as custodians of standards, dictating what should be supplied, how and in what form”.
This leaves South Africans vulnerable to the whim of these profit-seeking companies, which can and will change their prices at any time.
Compounding the threat of artificial scarcity is food scarcity brought about by general government incompetence.
Although South Africa produces enough food to feed its population, making it one of the most food secure countries in Africa, millions of people cannot eat. Dr Tobias Doyer, chief executive of Grain SA, says this is because “food security stands on two legs” – the security of access to food and the ability to obtain food – which the government has not provided for poor citizens.
“South African farmers produce enough food. The problem is that millions of South Africans have become poorer with less ability to buy food – causing famine,” Doyer says.
Groceries cost more and money buys less. In an unregulated food market and struggling economy, it follows that food insecurity is an offshoot of inequality, the most pervasive problem in South Africa today.
Thirty years into our democracy, our leadership has still not transformed the lives of the poor or addressed wealth inequality in any meaningful way. The fact that food insecurity is on the rise in South Africa is not an environmental problem, a social failing or the side effect of a global crisis. It is a major systematic failure.
FEATURED IMAGE: Signpost outside the WCCO building. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
As an overwrought Johannesburg continues to address rampant apartheid hang-ups, the responsibility of ensuring citizens’ equitable access to mental healthcare often falls on under-resourced, overburdened, yet empathetic providersstruggling to meet demand.
If you’re looking for mental health support in Johannesburg, where exactly should you turn? Should you ask people you know for help – and would they judge if you did? Should you head to the nearest clinic, unsure if they’d assist with an invisible problem? What if you can’t afford help or medication? What if you’d rather look up alternative options online? How would you know the right service to select when seemingly infinite options appear in a Google search for “psychologist Johannesburg”? Although it’s been 30 years since the end of apartheid, South Africa’s young democracy is still trying to escape the shadows left by unjust and inhumane policies. These shadows not only obscure economic equality, but persist through generational trauma, haunting the collective psyche of South Africans to this day. To explore how Johannesburg, the country’s most-populated city, could set a national blueprint ensuring adequate mental healthcare access, we must first understand the people behind the service who navigate through troubled waters, trying to make a difference.
The promises of post-apartheid mental healthcare
For South Africa to overcome its traumatic past, it is essential for all citizens to have equitable access to mental healthcare. This principle was acknowledged by the country’s first democratically elected government and is clearly articulated in the policies it introduced.
On December 10 1996, then president Nelson Mandela signed the newly drafted South African Constitution, which became the “highest law of the land”, acting as the direct reference and regulator of all subsequent laws and policies. The Bill of Rights, contained in its second chapter, was drafted as a tool to define and monitor South African citizens’ human rights. Two enshrined rights that concern the state of mental healthcare are the right to “equality” and the right to “human dignity”. These are essential reference points, because they highlight the emphasis the government placed on ensuring that all citizens have equal access to adequate healthcare.
This broad emphasis on health was refined to address mental health concerns with the passing of the Mental Health Care Act in 2002. Among other stipulations, the Act promised to ensure that “various categories of mental health care users” were granted “[co-ordinated] access to mental health”. It also aimed to integrate mental healthcare “into the general health services environment”. For countless generations, previous governments blatantly mistreated the majority of South Africa’s citizens; in contrast, the introduction of these regulations acted as a sign of the new government’s solidarity with them.
However, despite these various renewed governmental policies, the tangible challenges that South Africans continue to face on a day-to-day basis, whether crime, economic pressures or systemic inequality, can muddy the public’s idea of mental healthcare. Because mental health is largely intangible, “fixing” a mental health issue feels more like a luxury than a necessity. This reticence to seek help means that 75% of South Africans actively struggling with mental illnesses do not receive the help they need. Meanwhile, the abundance of everyday stressors can be exacerbated by people’s mental health issues, trapping these seemingly dissimilar problems in an indefinite loop of re-aggravation.
Figure 1: A representation highlighting the disparity between need and access to mental healthcare in South Africa and Gauteng. This is layered on top of a silhouette of an old mining headgear on the outskirts of Johannesburg CBD, with an image of a brain intersecting it.
In 2023 South Africa ranked third last of all measured countries by average mental health quotient, which is an online assessment tool used to “provide [a] comprehensive assessment of mental wellbeing”. The Mental State of the World report also found that South Africa had the second-highest proportion of respondents classified as “distressed or struggling”. These rankings are concerning, particularly considering the emphasis placed on improving the quality of, and access to, mental healthcare in the previous decades.
The incongruence between well-meaning government policies introduced in the hopeful past, and the current reality of overwhelming mental health issues that have not been addressed, is a theme that has persisted in Johannesburg and manifests in damaging ways.
Life Esidimeni: How to learn from the recent past
There is no mental-health policy failure in Johannesburg in the past 30 years that stands out as glaringly as the Life Esidimeni tragedy, when the most vulnerable people in society were neglected and left to rot as a consequence of government action.
In 2015, the Gauteng department of health cut ties with the Life Esidimeni hospital, which provided extended care and housing to thousands of psychiatric patients. The department of health aimed to relocate these patients to various nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) across the province. This decision followed the department of health’srecently introduced Mental Health Policy Framework, which, from 2013 until 2020, aimed to develop “community-based” mental health services like NGOs by deinstitutionalising mental healthcare services like Life Esidimeni hospital. However, this decision could also be explained more simply by the department’s need to “save costs”.
In a vacuum, these promises of governmental support and collaboration with NGOs appear to be beneficial developments for impoverished communities struggling to provide adequate healthcare. However, in reality the NGOs these patients were relocated to were not properly screened, either being woefully under-equipped or “fraudulently approved” to house psychiatric patients. This ignored the department’s framework to ensure citizens with access to adequate mental health services through “[the establishment of] a monitoring and evaluation system”. This mass rehousing ultimately resulted in 144 psychiatric patients dying from neglect and improper care.
This lack of mental healthcare access and resources is particularly damning given that the Life Esidimeni tragedy occurred in Gauteng, South Africa’s wealthiest province, which houses 45% of all registered South African mental health professionals.
Figure 2: A graphic representing how even with the overwhelming proportion of mental health professionals operating in Gauteng, the province is still under-equipped. The graph is layered over an image of the Johannesburg skyline, with a gamma brain wave intersecting it.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, the department of health’s revised Mental Health Framework, has sought to address the issues overlooked by the previous framework, now promising to ensure that “community mental health services will be scaled up to match recommended national norms”. Recently, Gauteng MEC for health and wellness, Nomantu Nkomo-Ralehoko, also committed almost half a billion rand to “improve mental-healthcare infrastructure and services across the province” this financial year.
A renewed focus on mental-health services appears to be a step in the right direction for Johannesburg. However, will this promise truly serve to assist those on the front lines of mental healthcare in the city, or will it simply prove empty once again?
Policy and regulations touting to improve mental healthcare access are an important first step, but they cannot stand on their own. The implementation of these ideas in real-world scenarios is the true test and, to understand the context in which they are applied, one must first understand the different types of mental healthcare in Johannesburg, as well as the various challenges the people running these facilities face.
The pathways to recovery
Unlike physical ailments, because mental illnesses are often ‘invisible’, it can be more difficult to grasp and confront them. The first step on the road to recovery is identifying the problem and realising the need to address it. The next step is often the most challenging: accepting that doing so requires external help. It can prove difficult to ask for help due to a variety of cultural and societal norms that create stigmas around mental healthcare.
Mental health stigma is rife throughout society: one place where they commonly persist and do much harm is within tertiary institutions. Universities are educational spaces, meant to inform and prepare students to tackle problems they face in the real world. However, according to the University of the Witwatersrand’s (Wits) Counselling and Careers Development Unit (CCDU), it is an ongoing process to deconstruct these stigmas during the time in people’s lives when they need the most mental-health attention. According to a study on adolescent mental health, it was found that 75% of people with mental illnesses develop their disorder before turning 24.
Figure 3: A set of self-help tips geared towards vulnerable students. This guide is layered on top of a silhouette of Johannesburg’s skyline with an image of a smiling sun intersecting it.
The CCDU is a free counselling service offered to Wits students, aimed at addressing mental-health concerns, as well as providing academic assistance and preparing students for life outside campus.
“People think that when you are seen coming to CCDU… you have problems,” says Lynette Sikhakhane, a CCDU psychologist. Sikhakhane says what stops many students from seeking out the CCDU is that “culturally… there’s a belief that you man up” instead of admitting to needing help. Highlighting a major misconception about therapy, Sikhakhane states that many students expect therapy to instantly “fix” their problems, when it is actually an incremental process of enabling self-understanding.
CCDU advocacy team leader, Vinoba Krishna says the unit aims “to incorporate the voices of students” into the mental-health assistance it provides. Part of this is dispelling misinformed expectations around counselling and therapy through effective communication and psychoeducation, as outlined in Higher Health’s mental health programme.
Krishna states that, despite the CCDU’s best intentions, “we aren’t able to do the work just by ourselves”, because of a lack of direct funding for mental health. He also emphasises the need to collaborate with “different stakeholders on and off campus” to ensure the best results for students.
A CCDU sign outside of their head offices on Wits West Campus. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
The South African Depression and Anxiety Group (Sadag) has similar aspirations to help people in need and destigmatise mental health in South Africa in the face of limited resources. Sadag is a non-profit organisation that provides counselling via 24-hour toll-free emergency helplines and community-driven initiatives.
Fatima Seedat, a Sadag development manager, says that for all South Africans to have equitable access to mental healthcare “a collective effort” is required from the government, civil society and NGOs. Seedat argues it is impossible to follow the “beautiful strategic framework” outlined by the government when “every year the healthcare budget decreases”.
The lack of funding available to Sadag and other mental-health providers highlights the inequality of access South Africans face. Naledi Nzimande, a Sadag volunteer councillor, says that “the most challenging calls” are when she wants to refer callers to professional help, but there aren’t any mental health resources nearby. Stephanie Gladwin, also a Sadag volunteer councillor, reiterates that the level of mental healthcare individuals receive is, in many ways, directly tied to levels of income. “If you’ve got money, it’s not a problem… South Africa has some fantastic mental-health professionals – it’s just reaching them that’s the only issue,” she says.
SADAG Volunteer Counsellor, Tevin Sutcliffe, on the phone to a hotline caller. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
To combat this unequal access, Sadag has installed counselling containers in Diepsloot and Ivory Park, where they offer face-to-face counselling inside converted shipping containers. Seedat says this project aims “to fill the gap where it’s needed” in vulnerable spaces in Johannesburg.
When comparing mental-healthcare access in the public and private sectors, the disparity between funding and resources is stark. For example, about 80% of South African psychiatrists work in private practice. Although most South Africans access mental healthcare through the public sector, private mental-health services that offer specialised solutions to fill niche gaps in care are also important.
A video covering SADAG’s community based care and, specifically, their Counselling Container project. Video: Tristan Monzeglio
Private music therapist, Graeme Sacks, who operates in Parktown, believes his practice enables him to be sensitive to his client’s needs. “We’re all musical beings… [and music therapy] is a wonderful way to tap into people’s emotions,” he says.
As Sacks puts it, music therapy is an “evidence-based practice”, which uses “music towards clinical goals”, but in practice it’s less stringent. He says, as a music therapist, it’s about concerning yourself with “the situation that [clients have] grown up in” by “trying to find out about their culture, their musical taste”, without ever “imposing our stuff on them”.
This tailored approach to therapy offers clients individualised care and, if music therapy were available in the public sector, it would be a practical means to provide many South Africans with the specific help they require. Sacks says that “most medical aids don’t pay for arts therapies” and that, currently, “there are no arts therapists in public health”. This absence of access to arts therapy is a missed opportunity for the public healthcare system to provide equitable access to a niche form of specialised care.
Music Therapist, Graeme Sacks, playing piano in his office where he treats all manner of people with the power of music. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
Some specialised care in the public sector is available, at Johannesburg’s Tara Hospital, which is a publicly funded psychiatric hospital. It provides specialised care to referred patients who cannot be adequately treated at secondary and tertiary hospitals.
Senior occupational therapist and acting assistant director at Tara, Savannah Levi, believes that in Johannesburg, and South Africa at large, “What’s so hard about accessing mental healthcare, is that there are so many points, but none of those points correlate or integrate with each other.” Levi argues that the policies and ideas meant to integrate a variety of services are based on sound frameworks, but their lack of real-world implementation highlights the “disconnect” between theoretical and practical application.
Levi says Tara’s specialised service offers “a very protective environment for the patients”, meaning that sometimes they “don’t want to leave”. This highlights the benefit that specialised care affords people in need which, in theory, all citizens should have access to. However, Tara has only 140 beds and limited staff due to the high level of training requirements and capped job availability.
Outside of Tara Hospital in Hurlingham, with Sandton in the background. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
A new destination
Despite the government’s multiple continued failings in the broad mental-health landscape, hope still persists in those people willing to take up the struggle. Mental-healthcare providers aren’t required only to help people experiencing mental anguish, they’re expected to do so while juggling external economic and cultural challenges, on top of taking care of themselves. Although well-meaning mental health policies are important, what’s even more important is that they are actually implemented. In the best interests of the South African citizens, it is essential for all stakeholders to minimise confusion and collaborate towards a single goal, so that the people who need help the most are not forgotten.
FEATURED IMAGE: COLLAGE: Nelson Mandela Bridge heading into Johannesburg CBD, an image of a Recovery Unit sign inside Milpark Hospital, and a box or reference documents intended to help SADAG counsellers deal with depressed adolescent callers. Photo: Tristan Monzeglio
The face of tourism has undergone a makeover since the dawn of democracy some 30 years ago, but whether it is a big enough change remains to be seen.
Stepping off a monstrously sized and noisy aeroplane at Johannesburg’s OR Tambo International Airport, warm air blows into your face. Your eyes squint while trying to adjust to the blinding sunlight. There is an immediate atmosphere of hustle and bustle, and you can hear several different languages being spoken around you.
Touring the city, you make your first stop at the Johannesburg Zoo for a glimpse of the Big Five up close and personal. A stroll around the Botanical Gardens leaves you parched, so you find yourself on Vilakazi Street for some authentic South African food and beverages. Feeling adventurous, you abseil down the Soweto Towers and ride a bicycle through the Johannesburg central business district and its arty Maboneng Precinct.
You have an early flight out tomorrow morning, but there is still so much left to uncover; so much more still to experience.
However, looking down at the skyscrapers from your tiny aeroplane window, you realise something: if you had visited Johannesburg 30 years ago, the city would still be bustling with tourism, but you would view all the attractions through the eyes of a fractured society.
The Soweto Towers are the peak of adventure tourism in Johannesburg, with the tiny bridge offering a unique bungee jumping experience to locals or internationals. Photo: Victoria Hill
Contextualising tourism: More than 30 years in the making
Tourism has existed for centuries, even if it constantly redefines itself. Tourism did not become a concept only when trains, boats, cars or aeroplanes were invented. People have been moving from one place to another for different reasons for as long as mankind has inhabited the Earth, which is one early definition of tourism.
Tourism is different from expeditionism in the sense that tourists follow set paths or visit already discovered areas. Tourism can thus be for business, sports, medical, leisure, cultural or religious purposes.
Geoffrey Wall and John Towner say the history of tourism encompasses three themes: tourism in the ancient and medieval worlds, the Grand Tour era of the 17th and 18th centuries, and the growth of spas and seaside resorts.
These themes have some factors in common, mainly that individuals who participated in these kinds of tourism were powerful and wealthy.
Until 1994, tourism in South Africa had these two commonalities as well. Only people of an upper-class, white status could indulge in movement from one place to another. Black individuals were issued with a dompas: an internal passport that restricted their movement on foot. Thus, they could not indulge in free travel around a city like Johannesburg, never mind for leisure to a seaside resort.
This is what led to the White Paper of 1996, which described “diversity [as] where the country’s tourism attraction lies” and stated that the end of apartheid “opened the country’s tourism potential to the rest of the world and, indeed, to the previously neglected groups in society”.
Yet, tourism only really redefined itself in later years. Black people were now granted human rights, but they could not exercise in these rights until they were given a platform to practise them.
Itumeleng Rabotapi, director of strategic management, monitoring and evaluation at the department of tourism, says: “The above advantages notwithstanding, South Africa has not been able to realise its full potential in tourism. As such, the contribution of tourism to employment, small business development, income and foreign-exchange earnings has been limited.”
The White Paper says: “Had its history been different, South Africa would probably have been one of the most-visited places in the world.”
Johannesburg is seen as a microcosm of South Africa in this report, which investigates whether touring the city has changed since democratisation or if it will take 30 more years to master.
State of tourism pre-1994
If you went back in time to revisit apartheid South Africa, you would find a vastly different City of Johannesburg than the one to which you are accustomed.
A tourist in South Africa was typically a white, wealthy, powerful individual or family. To take part in tourism activities pre-1994, academic IB Mkhize explains that a person needed to have disposable income, leisure time, means of transport, freedom of movement, access to facilities and destinations to visit. The apartheid regime deprived all South Africans, except white people, of these things.
Jane Skipsey, a former hotel general manager and guesthouse owner, says: “The hotel industry was very glamorous in the 1980s, with lots of glitz. The five-star Carlton Hotel [now closed] in downtown Johannesburg was buzzing with international guests.”
The abandoned Carlton Hotel stands tall as a landmark of Johannesburg’s skyline despite no longer having glitz and glamour as in pre-1994. Photo: Victoria HillIn comparison to the internationally renowned Carlton Hotel, a small guesthouse in Yeoville offers rooms starting from R70 for one hour. Photo: Victoria Hill
Academic Christian Rogerson says the crisis tourism experienced until 2010 has roots in the policies of apartheid. He places emphasis on the Soweto Uprising of 1976 and the declaration of a state of emergency in the 1980s, which led to South Africa being politically isolated from the rest of the world.
However, despite this, Skipsey says, “Business still had to be conducted and holidays were still taken. There were not that many prominent hotel groups at the time and Southern Sun dominated the market, with business and leisure hotels aplenty.”
Justyn Spinner, managing director of Hello Lifestyle Magazine (formerly Hello Joburg, Hello Cape Town, Hello Durban and Hello Pretoria), says that in the 1980s, when his father pioneered the company, “There were no reliable sources of lifestyle and entertainment content.”
This is what inspired Spinner senior to create a guidebook-style publication featuring lifestyle and attraction spots in Johannesburg. It was targeted at people who had the freedom of movement and choice to partake in leisure activities.
Christo Nicolopoulos, a restaurateur in Johannesburg, says that pre-1994, “The process of opening a restaurant was less bureaucratic.” Nicolopoulos opened many high-end restaurants and he was also involved in “black eating houses… and opened the first eating house with proper plates and knives and forks in Kempton Park”.
“Black eating houses”, or restaurants for black people, show the depth of apartheid segregation in the tourism sector. Black people were not granted access to mainstream tourism activities and were often left undignified and underprivileged in what they could pursue for leisure.
Although Johannesburg was a world-class city with beautiful hotels and restaurants that international businesspeople or tourists would travel to see, its status was maintained on the foundation of apartheid.
State of tourism post-1994
The numbers say South Africa’s tourism sector has been on the mend since 1994. With international sanctions lifted, and the eyes of the world on South Africa’s new democratic state, tourism experienced a boom.
The inception of South African Tourism also helped to rebrand the country and manage its reputation. The body was instituted with the hope of allowing historically disadvantaged South Africans to benefit from the sector.
Rogerson says, “Domestic rather than international tourism is the backbone of the South African tourism economy. While the major component is accounted for by white South Africans, steady growth is occurring in the black tourism sector.”
The tourism industry is more diverse now in terms of ownership and clientele. The introduction of small to medium-sized enterprises and the department of tourism’s enterprise development and transformation programme allowed locally made products and services to enter the tourism market.
One example is the Yeoville Dinner Club, pioneered by Sanza Sandile. For Sandile, who grew up in apartheid Soweto, this dinner club “has become a vision and a direction of [his] childhood dream”. After moving to Yeoville at the dawn of democracy, he wanted to redefine what was once called “a derogatory shebeen in [his] grandmother’s day”.
Sandile’s dinner club “is about celebrating this piece of history through food socials”. The dinner club has “enjoyed a whole mix of international guests and real local foodies from a slightly higher LSM [Living Standards Measure]”.
Locals often describe Yeoville – and Hillbrow – as the geographical centres of deterioration and crime. However, Sandile says his patrons view the now “accidental pan-African suburb” as “one of the most popular cultural and topical spaces in Johannesburg”.
Despite being described as the cultural heartbeat of Johannesburg, Rocky Street in Yeoville also represents the decay of infrastructure in the tourism sector post-1994. Photo: Victoria Hill
Nicolopoulos says black economic empowerment policies created a group of black diners, colloquially known as “Black Diamonds”, who enjoy splurging on champagne and cognac on occasion.
A tourist of colour who often frequents the streets of Johannesburg is 21-year-old Uyanda Tyusha. After growing up in Johannesburg, Tyusha moved to Stellenbosch to finish his tertiary education.
He says: “Having previously lived in Johannesburg, I often travel back to visit friends and family… I mostly find myself going out for something to eat, either lunch or dinner… I also go to attend musical festivals or concerts… I am interested in.”
As a student on a tight budget, Tyusha dreams of “visiting the lesser-travelled areas in the country and discover[ing] more” in years to come.
Being a Born Free, Tyusha “can’t image having restrictions on the sort of travelling that [he] does”. He says if had been born during apartheid he “would most likely be restricted to movement within [or] between the townships”. There would be no chance of him visiting an establishment like the Yeoville Dinner Club.
At the National Job Summit in 1998, tourism was recognised as “the sector which had the greatest potential for reducing unemployment in the country”, Rogerson says. This potential was envisaged as manifesting through community-based initiatives and township, rural and cultural tourism.
Tourism in Johannesburg now has an economic, social, political, cultural and educational value. In 2024, the city has endless tourist attractions, most either born from apartheid, in remembrance of apartheid and the people who lived under it, or an attempt to advantage previously disadvantaged people.
Tourism as a a socioeconomic sector
According to the 1996 White Paper, South Africa relies on tourism to increase the rate of employment, promote equality in all aspects of society, and contribute to the overall gross domestic product (GDP) and investment in the country’s economy.
South African Tourism, the marketing arm of the department of tourism, says tourism promotes “the sustainable economic and social empowerment of all South Africans”. Tourism is a multi-sectoral industry, which means its growth allows multiple sectors to grow too and for more jobs to be created.
The White Paper found that tourism contributed 2% to the GDP in 1994, which increased to 4% in 1995. In 2024, Statistics South Africa (Stats SA) says tourism contributes an estimated 8.8% to the GDP. In 30 years, tourism has more than doubled its contribution to the economy.
Spinner says “we should see the tourism industry as a major contributor to our GDP”, due to its diverse offerings and the welcoming culture of our country to international visitors.
There were an estimated 70,000 working in the sector in 1994 and 1.7 million in 2024. Globally, one in every nine jobs is in the tourism sector, which is about 10.7% of the global workforce.
Skipsey says there is still a massive educational divide that limits equality in the tourism sector’s workforce. The majority of management positions were previously held by white people and unskilled positions were given to people of colour.
“This started to change with employment equity, brought about by the new government post-1994,” Skipsey says. “There are still hurdles. Some black South Africans are assigned jobs for which they are not qualified and this can end up messy.”
Rogerson estimates that 50,000 international tourists visited South Africa in 1986. When 1994 rolled around, the White Paper estimates South Africa welcomed 4.48 million international tourists. Stats SA estimates this number to be 10.7 million in 2024.
Stats SA says tourism is set to grow 7.6% annually over the next decade. This is above the overall economic growth rate of 1.8%.
To residents of Johannesburg, this might come as a shock. The city is not seen as glamorous by its inhabitants, but rather as deteriorating by the second.
Restaurateur Nicolopoulos says, “our economic hub, Johannesburg, is avoided by tourists”, due to the “lack of law and order, corruption and high levels of crime”. The city has simply become “a transit port of entry for Cape Town and the Kruger National Park”.
Overall, the department of tourism’s Rabotapi says tourism is “well-positioned to link under-developed regions with the developed ones as it transcends spatial and geographic boundaries”.
Tourism has a unique ability to promote and maintain harmony on the premise of a shared love for one’s country.
A peek into the next 30 years
Although tourism is classed as a leading socioeconomic sector in today’s South Africa, it still has unlocked potential.
Rabotapi says: “Growth of tourism to and within South Africa requires the portfolio to provide an enabling environment.”
This includes improving tourism assets and infrastructure, ensuring tourism safety and access to basic services, and developing a culture of travel among South Africans so the sector is supported domestically.
Throughout South Africa’s 1.27 million square kilometres, Johannesburg’s province of Gauteng takes up a mere 18,000. Yet, it has made significant strides in transforming the tourism sector during the 30 years of democracy.
Touring the city was once a privilege; now, doing so is a reminder of what humanity went through to be alive today.
International tourists are entranced by a tour guide at Constitution Hill, where they soak up the suffering of wrongfully incarcerated individuals in the apartheid era. Photo: Victoria Hill
Just metres away stands a school tour at Constitution Hill, creating a stark contrast between the domestic and international groups. These local visitors are here for an educational purpose that provides insight into their city’s history. Photo: Victoria Hill
A group of Zulu dancers entertain the international tourists on Vilakazi Street with a cultural display of song and dance whilst cameras were at the ready.
On a pavement in Vilakazi Street, local artists sell their crafts to all visitors. South Africa needs more of this domestic tourism where talent becomes a livelihood. Photo: Victoria Hill
International tourists poured onto the Soweto Hop On & Hop Off bus after visiting Mandela’s House, and were easy to spot in their red contraption. Photo: Victoria Hill
Locals commemorate those who died for their country by visiting the South African National Museum of Military History, and marvel at what it would have been like back in the day. Photo: Victoria Hill
International tourists photographing the infamous Hector Pieterson Memorial in Orlando West had cameras swinging from their necks in their classic dress of shorts and t-shirts. Photo: Victoria Hill
Where international tourists would visit the Kruger National Park, locals in Johannesburg simply visit the metropolitan zoo to spend a day in the sun with roaring lions and grazing rhinos. Photo: Victoria Hill
The infamous open-top City Sightseeing Bus is visible most days in Johannesburg. When locals are hard at work, internationals sit atop the red double-decker and view the city in its holistic form. Photo: Victoria Hill
Residents of Johannesburg call the Maboneng Precinct their artistic playground with its vibrant stores, boutique cafes, and entertainment centres that provides locals with opportunities to relax after work or over the weekends. Photo: Victoria Hill
FEATURED IMAGE: Johannesburg is known for the spotting of Jacaranda trees all about its suburbs, and they have become a tourist attraction in Spring time. Photo: Victoria Hill
Nearly 30 years into democracy, the city of gold’s residents face the harsh reality of a broken service delivery system.
Imagine living in a city that was once hailed as the economic titan of Africa but is now subject to the daily indignity of deteriorating infrastructure. Even after 30 years of democratic governance, persistent power cuts, erratic water supplies, roads riddled with potholes, and uncollected garbage have become unfortunate realities for many Johannesburg residents. The aspirational goals of equality, liberty and socioeconomic progress appear increasingly unattainable to some people.
For individuals like Maureen Ncube, this is the hard truth. “We are struggling, we do not have electricity,” Ncube says. “We are stranded in the informal settlements.” In Kanana Extension Four – an informal settlement located northeast of central Johannesburg in Rabie Ridge – Ncube, a mother of eight, lives in a humble home where poor service delivery makes it challenging for her to manage her daily tasks. Her home – built from discarded materials and sheets of corrugated iron – sits just a few feet away from a stream of sewage.
It’s a typical Saturday morning in the settlement, alive with the sounds and colours of township life. The scene is both vibrant and unsettling. Outside Ncube’s home, the stench of sewage is overpowering: a mix of decaying waste, stagnant water and rotting refuse, with dead rats occasionally floating by. The communal tap stands right next to the sewage, forcing residents to fetch water while the smell lingers heavily in the air. Children run around barefoot, oblivious to the health risks that lie in the murky water they splash through.
Residents are left in the dark on certain days when the electricity is totally cut off. In addition, they must frequently go without water on days when the supply runs out due to leaking communal taps. Like millions of other Jo’burg residents, Ncube and her children rely on these basic services to survive. With every dry tap, power outage and pile of uncollected garbage, she is reminded of just how much Johannesburg’s service delivery has failed its people.
Numerous locals such as Ncube face a daily dilemma: either deal with water scarcity or spend money on expensive private water supplies. Their physical health is negatively affected by the unreliability of critical services, and their everyday lives are overshadowed by the emotional toll of living in uncertainty. As they negotiate a system that has repeatedly let them down, families are left anxious by the constant fear of upcoming power outages or water problems.
The establishment of municipal state-owned entities
The Municipal Systems Act gave rise to organisations like City Power and Johannesburg Water in the early 2000s. Section 73(1)(c) of the Act emphasises that municipalities must ensure “universal access to essential services that are affordable to all” and move progressively toward “the provision of basic services to all our people, specifically the poor and disadvantaged”. The Act saw Johannesburg Water and City Power as essential providers of reliable and reasonably priced services that supported the constitutional goal of fostering equitable development.
City Power and Johannesburg Water were expected to adhere to the Act’s mandates for financial sustainability and community engagement. Section 73(2)(b) requires that municipalities provide services “in a financially and environmentally sustainable manner”. Despite their mandates to offer affordable services, City Power and Johannesburg Water have encountered both financial and operational challenges. Mismanagement and rising expenses have made it more difficult for these organisations to achieve their initial objectives.
A Kanana resident tries to navigate through the uncollected waste. Picture: Rivaldo Jantjies.
What went wrong?
City Power and Johannesburg Water were established to improve service delivery in Johannesburg; however, they have not met their objectives. The Municipal Systems Act, section 95(c), mandates municipalities to maintain sound financial management to ensure sustainable services. However, these state-owned entities have been embroiled in corruption and mismanagement.
An August City Press article reported that auditor-general Tsakani Maluleke’s 2022-23 report raised significant concerns about financial mismanagement in the City of Johannesburg. The City retained its previous year’s unqualified audit opinion with findings, yet issues of poor financial management persisted, according to City Press. In addition, a July Mail & Guardian report highlighted allegations that City Power and Pikitup have been heavily tainted by corruption and political interference. Prominent ANC leaders are accused of compromising public services by capturing the city-owned companies for their own benefit. Investigations into the entities are under way for anomalies in tenders that led to poor service delivery. Patronage networks have allegedly been strengthened by these actions, which are believed to have enriched certain politicians at the expense of taxpayers and the construction of vital infrastructure.
Section 73(2)(c) of the Municipal Systems Act requires services to be financially and environmentally sustainable, but the deteriorating infrastructure suggests otherwise. For instance, Coronationville has faced weeks without water, leading to protests as frustrated residents demand their basic rights. A recent Daily Maverick report found that Coronationville depends on the Hursthill 1 Reservoir, which is facing severe operational challenges and structural decay, resulting in major water losses. Similar issues plague Kanana, where residents endure recurring blackouts and broken water-supply systems, despite the initial goal outlined by these state-owned entities to provide equitable service delivery. The common thread for these failures is a lack of transparency and accountability.
Political analyst Ebrahim Harvey argues that service-delivery issues in Johannesburg stem from external pressures placed on local leadership. According to Harvey, the World Bank played a role in pushing ANC councillors and officials toward restructuring municipal services in the early ’90s. He adds, “The World Bank is the place that put pressure on the ANC councilors and leadership to go the route to collapse all the services in the municipalities.” The foundation for future initiatives and economic changes in South Africa was established by the World Bank as early as the 1990s. To prepare South African officials for the Bank’s possible participation in local projects, should an interim government request this, the Bank held policy seminars and capacity-building workshops, as well as conducting informal economic research.
The consequences for Johannesburg residents
Two Kanana residents, Moitheri Tau and Tembi Elizabeth Mokwele, publicly voice their dissatisfaction and disenchantment with the city’s inadequate services.
Tau, who has lived in the area since 1993, describes a daily struggle for electricity and safety. She explains that residents connect power cables to a nearby transformer. “We don’t have electricity and the service delivery is poor. We connected ourselves illegally after City Power disconnected us,” she admits, pointing out the dangers of living without basic services. “Our children use candlelight to study, but when they fall asleep, the candles set the shacks on fire. One burning shack can cause 14 more to catch fire,” she says.
Mokwele emphasises the unsanitary conditions in which they live. “There’s dirty water everywhere and it makes our children sick,” she says, sitting outside her home. She is enjoying a lively conversation with her neighbors, laughing and cracking jokes, despite the dire situation. Mokwele speaks of her frustration with the government’s repeated promises during election cycles, only for these promises to be forgotten afterwards. “We vote and every time they promise us better living conditions, but nothing happens,” she says.
Both Tau and Mokwele, like many other residents, are desperate for change, pleading for electricity, RDP housing and basic services to ensure their safety and dignity.
The frustration with Johannesburg Water and City Power is not limited to informal settlements, but extends across the city. On Johannesburg Water’s X page, complaints are rampant. One resident expressed outrage after being left without water for days, saying, “We have no water for two days! You just shut off the water without any plan. It’s ridiculous and unacceptable.” Another user echoed this sentiment, frustrated by the repeated failures: “You clearly don’t serve Jo’burg… Why is it taking so long? Why can you never get it fixed correctly the first time?”
The alarming decay of Johannesburg’s water infrastructure is driving the city toward a potential ‘Day Zero’. This raises serious concerns about management and upkeep. In June News24 reported that Rand Water’s maintenance problems make it difficult for Johannesburg Water to satisfy demand, which leads to frequent supply interruptions. The prolonged timescale for these upgrades raises concerns, even while efforts are being made to enhance and modernise water infrastructure to mitigate these problems. Why has it taken so long to fix and improve vital water infrastructure that millions of people depend on every day after more than 30 years of democracy?
Similarly, the City Power X page is filled with complaints from residents affected by constant power outages. One exasperated user shared their frustration, saying, “Every week it’s the same story… whenever Kanana has no power, we are also affected – this is ridiculous! Matriculants are writing exams, how are they supposed to study?” Another commenter highlighted the effect on their livelihood: “Getting fired for always making the same electricity excuse. Working from home is a nightmare.” These posts reflect the widespread discontent across Johannesburg, as both water and electricity services fail to meet residents’ most basic needs.
Kanana household’s illegal electricity connections hang over an informal pathway. Picture: Rivaldo Jantjies
Rising frustration and economic effects
In vulnerable communities like Kanana, the breakdown of service delivery in Johannesburg has aggravated socioeconomic disparities. Dr Morné Oosthuizen, chief research officer at the Development Policy Research Unit of the University of Cape Town, explains that whereas wealthier households can adapt by installing solar panels or purchasing bottled water, poorer households are left with no such alternatives. “Poor households are much more constrained than better-off households in their ability to insulate themselves from poor service delivery,” Oosthuizen notes. This inability to access basic services not only deepens inequality, but also compromises efforts to reduce multidimensional poverty. As Oosthuizen puts it: “Basic services typically serve to reduce inequalities – if you look at multidimensional poverty [and] inequality measures, which include these kinds of services, you will see relatively low rates of multidimensional poverty and lower inequality levels.”
The collapse of infrastructure also raises operating costs for businesses. Oosthuizen says, “There is real potential for this phenomenon to raise costs for employers – for example, they need to install solar panels, or they need to repair vehicles more frequently because of higher wear and tear – putting pressure on their ability to remain competitive.” This added burden weakens local economies, further limiting employment opportunities and driving up costs for businesses already struggling to cope with unreliable services.
In the long term, Johannesburg’s infrastructure problems are discouraging business investment and pushing skilled labour out of the city. The South African Chamber of Commerce and Industry business confidence index for July 2024 reflects this sentiment, showing only a marginal improvement of 1.8 index points from the previous year – a gain too modest to counteract the ongoing concerns about local infrastructure and utility reliability. Oosthuizen emphasises that service-delivery failures can serve as a “push factor”, driving businesses to relocate. “Where businesses do not need to be located in Johannesburg, poor service delivery encourages businesses to relocate elsewhere,” he says. This potential exodus of both businesses and workers threatens to further erode Johannesburg’s economic stability, affecting not only established companies, but also informal businesses reliant on formal-sector earnings. Oosthuizen says, “This can undermine local economies, also through the impact of a weakened formal sector (and earnings from the formal sector) on the informal sector.”
Ncube and other Johannesburg residents deserve better. The city’s inability to supply basic utilities like safe power and clean water is a catastrophe that has to be addressed immediately. It’s time to invest in this city’s future and end the cycle of neglect.
Residents of Kanana share their daily struggles of service delivery. Video: Rivaldo Jantjies
FEATURED IMAGE: A visual representation of a dripping communial tap in Kanana. Photo: Rivaldo Jantjies.
The Ahmed Kathrada Foundation, OUTA, and other civil society organizations continue the search for justice for Babita Deokaran’s assassination, while politicians dither and delay.
At a small Baptist church in the suburb of Mondeor, Johannesburg, a crowd gathered on August 23, 2024, to remember Babita Deokaran three years after her assassination.
Babita Deokaran was gunned down in the driveway of her home in 2021, just three weeks after flagging R850 million in irregular payments at Tembisa Hospital. Beyond sentencing the six gunmen who conducted the assassination, no paymaster has been found or charged.
As a result, this remembrance has occurred every year since her murder, as both a support mechanism for her family and a platform to demand justice for Deokaran.
Ahmed Kathrada Foundation Executive director, Neeshan Balton, calls it an “accountability forum”, where Gauteng politicians are invited every year to speak on the progress of the investigation and answer questions the family may have.
Neeshan Balton, Wayne Duvenage, Vuyiswa Ramokgopa, Andy Mothibi, Mark Heywood, and Trene Poragadu. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
Speaking to Wits Vuvuzela, Balton expressed his disappointment at the government’s response to Babita’s assassination. “I don’t even think any senior Gauteng official met with her family”, he said, which the family later confirmed. “The Gauteng provincial government have just been…unconcerned.”
While Balton noted that “the SIU [Special Investigations Unit] have been exemplary” in their continuation of Babita’s corruption investigation, he says that most officials involved in the case have made promises but “kept none of them”.
SIU boss, Adv. Andy Mothibi, came to speak at the event, as he has done every year. He noted that the value of irregular payments has risen from the original R850 million to a staggering R2.2 billion. He confirmed that the “syndicates involved [at Tembisa hospital] are involved in other hospitals” as well – this is far from an isolated incident.
Activist and journalist, Mark Heywood, agreed with Adv. Mothibi’s assessment. “Tembisa hospital is the rule, not the exception”, he said. Corruption syndicates that exploit tender processes like this are everywhere in the Gauteng Health Department.
Gauteng MEC for agriculture and rural development, Vuyiswa Ramokgopa, attended the remembrance not in her political capacity, but as a concerned citizen. She spoke to the “micro-corruptions” that exist in everyday life in South Africa that snowball into massive abuses of power and government corruption.
Babita Deokaran was a woman of integrity, Ramokgopa declared, and integrity is “the willingness to speak truth, even when it is not easy.” Speaking the truth should not cost one their life, however.
While Babita Deokaran died fighting against corruption, and for the constitutional right to healthcare, today there is also a daughter missing her mother; cousins missing their aunt; a home that is less bright.
The family and civil society organizations hope that by August 23, 2025, justice will be served.
FEATURED IMAGE:OUTA members dancing and singing at the remembrance. Photo: Ruby Delahunt.
The financial contribution of storytelling to South Africa’s economy, highlights its influence across the national landscape.
Storytelling in South Africa has long been celebrated for its cultural significance, but its role in driving economic growth is often underappreciated. Beyond captivating audiences, the storytelling industry spans multiple sectors – from film and television to publishing and digital content creation – contributing to job creation, tourism, and overall economic development.
The data visualisation below delves into the influence of storytelling and uncover the ways in which it supports industries and generates income.
FEATURED IMAGE: SA Storytelling graphic created by Ofentse Tladi
Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) victories, international trophies and Olympic medals have made being South African a pleasure and tremendous source of pride.
South African pride is soaring, with UFC victories, another Rugby World Cup win and a handful Olympic medals. Dricus Du Plessis’ recent UFC title defense, the Springboks maintaining their world champion status and Tyla’s musical accolades are all examples of how South Africans are making their presence known on the global stage.
On Sunday, August 18, 2024, South African UFC fighter Dricus Du Plessis retained his UFC Middleweight Championship by submitting Israel Adesanaya. Seven months prior to that, Du Plessis became the first South African UFC champion after he defeated Sean Strickland for the championship.
These recent triumphs build on a wave of victories that all started just less than a year ago when the Springboks won back-to-back World Cups by defeating New Zealand in 2023. Euphoria was injected into the air as South Africans celebrated. The victory showcased that despite the challenges we face as a nation, South Africans can achieve on a world stage.
In the same year, the global music stage was set alight by South African popstar Tyla, who released her breakout hit Water. The single gained Tyla worldwide recognition, receiving a Grammy and a BET award in 2024; achievements which are unprecedented for South African performers. Tyla continues to display her South African pride and has made it easy for her fans to relate with and adore her.
These accomplishments, however, are not enough for us to turn a blind eye to the issues that we face as a nation. South Africa continues to experience high levels of crime as well as high unemployment, with there being an average of 45% youth unemployment. South Africa has a rich history of inequality and oppression, and the longstanding effects of these detriments continue to affect the modern lived experience of South Africans.
So, the question is why could anybody be proud of being a South African? Racism has been a longstanding component of the nation and there continues to be unequal distributions of wealth; why on earth would I be proud of being from such a nation? The answer for me is simple – because it’s my nation of birth and I have no choice but to be proud of it.
Despite the issues that the nation faces, South Africa is made of a variety of beautiful cultures and languages that give us our unique identity. Our differences are our strength in many cases.
2024 has been a great indication of the rollercoaster of emotions that South Africans must endure. In the month of May, the National Elections saw South Africans vote for a new government, resulting in a national coalition government for the first time in its history. This, coupled with Bafana Bafana’s third place victory in the AFCON tournament and the South African Olympic team receiving six medals all make up for an eventful year for South Africans.
I am a proud South African and I am a firm believer that our nation has so much potential to fight for. In the face of challenges and obstacles, I am confident that South Africa will find ways to prevail, and I encourage every South African to share the same belief. We, as South Africans, are not allowing the ghosts of our pasts to affect our present but are rather focused on building a better future for South Africa.
FEATURED IMAGE: South African flag reworked into DNA helix. Photo: Reddit/@lwazilwapheshey
According to the Quarterly Labour Force Survey released by Statistics South Africa on August 13, 2024, the unemployment rate in South Africa has increased from 32.9% in the first quarter of the year to 33.5% in the second quarter. Unemployment has increased in the second quarter of each year since 2019.
FEATURED IMAGE: Poster saying ‘help unemployed graduates’, held by a rally attendee. Photo: File
Customers waited in long queues to experience Shein’s first pop-up store in South Africa.
The Chinese online clothing store, Shein, opened a pop-up store in Mall of Africa, where attendees got to physically engage with the products before buying, for the first time.
But strangely, customers could only feel and try on clothes, purchases still had to be finalised online, not at the store itself. Instead, they had to install the Shein app and scan the QR codes to buy their hauls.
Walking into the store, predominantly pink decor and calming tunes played by the in-store DJ made for a less chaotic experience than going on the app itself, with countless pop-up’s and spinning coming at you.
Apart from clothes, beauty products like make-up and fragrances were also on display and available for testing.
Teacher, Rorisang Jones, commented on the long wait she had to endure, she said, “I actually find it hilarious because you can’t actually buy”.
In a statement, Shein said the aim of the store is to offer an immersive in-store experience, as well as “empowering individuals to embrace their personal style without reservation.”
The opening of the pop-up store comes at a time when Shein has come under fire for exploitative labour practices, environmental harm and tax evasion. Shein, along with rival e-commerce clothing brand Temu, have been accused of exploiting a tax loophole which has enabled them pay 20% import duty as opposed to the 45% tariff that local retailers have to pay.[KK1]
The South African Revenue Service (SARS) has put a hold on implementing a tax hike that would be imposed on Shein and Temu, stating that various stakeholders need to be engaged to ensure sector readiness for a tax hike.
Nevertheless, the introduction of the Shein pop-up store indicates that they have a large enough market in South Africa to stay the course when that comes to pass.
FEATURED IMAGE: Shoppers line up at Shein pop-up store. Photo: Siyanda Mthethwa
The Olympic Games are the pinnacle of sporting excellence, and these women athletes are the perfect example of South African sporting talent.
This year, South African Women’s Month coincides with the Summer Olympic Games, which makes it a perfect time to honour just some of the countless women who have made history in these prestigious games. From Penny Heyns to Caster Semenya, South African women have continued to showcase their skills at the highest level.
The Olympics are some of the oldest athletic competitions in the world, starting in 776 BC, but women only joined the competition in the 1900 games. South Africa has an interesting relationship with the Olympic games because of the nation’s Apartheid policy which had them banned from 1964 until the negotiations to end Apartheid began in 1990 (Olympedia). This means South African women only participated in the Olympic Games on a larger scale from the 1992 Summer Games, with 26 women at once, as opposed to the combined 31 between 1920 and 1990.
Since their readmission, South African women have proven to be worthy contenders, holding their weight in all competitions, from swimming to athletics and even hockey.
Penelope ‘Penny’ Heyns, one of the nation’s most successful competitors, won 3 total medals (two gold and one bronze), and became one of the world’s greatest swimmers after becoming the first woman in Olympic history to win both the 200m and 100m breaststroke events at the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games.
Despite questions about her gender, Caster Semenya won gold medals in Women’s 800m athletics at the London 2012 and Rio de Janeiro 2016 Olympics. Semenya’s Olympics journey was cut short when World Athletics (formerly International Association of Athletics Federations) ruled in 2018 that she and other female athletes like her with high testosterone levels should take medication to reduce these levels. She remains one of the greatest South African women athletes to participate at the Olympics.
Tatjana Smith (formerly Schoenmaker) is yet another South African woman who continues to achieve phenomenal results at the Olympic Games. As of July 30, Smith received one gold medal in the women’s 100m breaststroke event, the country’s first of the tournament. This gold medal achievement is her third after winning two others at the 2020 Tokyo Games, where she set a new world record for the Women’s 200m breaststroke.
These are just a few of South Africa’s amazing women athletes who have flown the South African flag high. Their passion, dedication, and skill serve to inspire generations of young women as the country celebrates women this Women’s Month.
FEATURED IMAGE: Tatjana Smith posing with her Olympic gold medal on TV. Photo: Kamogelo Kungwane
Societal expectations and experiences can often place pressure on people’s relationships. With Valentine’s Day coming up we have asked individuals questions about their views on certain relationship dynamics especially when it comes to the most anticipated day of the year for some lovers, Valentines Day. Viewers shared their beliefs and Siyanda and Katlego talk about […]
