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
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
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
Beyond the polished grids and aesthetically pleasing feeds, Witsies are using social media on their own terms, transforming videos into value and posts into powerful tools to build a lasting digital presence.
On any given day around the Great Hall or the Matrix, you will see them. Students carrying heavy school bags, holding a coffee from Xpresso in one hand, and using the other to set up a tripod. Some are filming a quick “outfit of the day” at West Campus, while others record a “spend the day with me” vlog on their walk between lectures. Behind these quick videos, many Wits students are running real digital businesses right alongside their degrees. Across South Africa, the digital landscape is no longer just a virtual space: it has evolved into what Siphokazi Vuso describes in Forbes Africa as a strategic jobs engine.
Yet beneath polished Instagram feeds and viral TikTok clips lies a reality of late-night admin, delayed invoices, and the emotional weight of putting oneself into the world. For three Witsies Kungawo Gwayi, Praise Ngubeni and Amahle-Imvelo Jaxa, building a digital presence is not simply about chasing views. It is about discipline, courage, and transforming content creation into something impactful and valuable for their audience.
Every creative journey starts with a personal spark. For Gwayi, who holds an honours degree in theatre and performance, self-expression has always been central. “I started with fashion content because putting together an outfit felt natural,” Gwayi explains. As she grows, she has opened herself up to other spheres from skincare, perfumes and banking so she can be marketable across various brands.
An image of Kungawo taking pictures for her instagram page. Photo by: Rearabilwe Tsebela
An image of Kungawo going through her pictures. Photo by: Rearabilwe Tsebela
For Ngubeni, a third-year accounting student from Ermelo, Mpumlanga, content creation grew from a quiet desire to step outside familiar boundaries. “Being a boy from a small town with a simple culture really makes one feel boxed in. Intrinsically, I am an explorer, a leader and an opportunist,” Ngubeni explains. His entry point was through fitness. “People would enquire with me about their training, diets and just general life advice. I realized I could leverage all of this not only to better my life, but to inspire and motivate those around me”.
Praise shares a look into his workout session. Video: Courtesy of @praise_ye
Jaxa, an international relations honours graduate, was raised on news and politics by a single mother and political father turned serial entrepreneur. “Every Sunday my mom and I read the paper together”, Jaxa reflects. “Without that nurturing, I wouldn’t have the keen interest I have in current affairs and politics.” When her video on South Africa’s peacekeeping went viral, it confirmed her path. “I have created content since social media existed, it was an easy transition.”
An image of content creator Amahle Jaxa featured in a print profile by the Daily Dispatch. Photo: Courtesy of @jaxxofalltrades_sa / Daily Dispatch
The soft glow of a screen often hides the physical and mental endurance requires to sustain a digital footprint alongside university deadlines.
Ngubeni relies on careful time management to balance his degree with his creative drive. “My weeks are always planned in advance. I wake up early Monday through to Saturday and I know midday is for classes and gym, and then in the evenings I fight to get in the last solid block of studying.” He speaks openly about the weight it carries. “Burnout becomes life at some point, and I just learn to be patient enough to let it build my capacity”.
For Gwayi, the final year of her degree demanded profound emotional strength. “I had to balance work, academics and grief since I had lost my very close friend,” she recalls. “Listing my priorities and ticking off as I go definitely helped me show up as best as I can.
Beyond tight schedules, both creators acknowledge the vulnerability that comes with visibility. Gwayi notes, “It is not normal to have parts of your life always at people’s disposal even when you are a private person, digital content creation is a performance of self.” Jaxa echoes this feeling, adding: “From an emotional perspective, you expose yourself to strangers, from a mental perspective, it’s gruelling. It’s about posting consistently and sometimes even when you do not want to.”
A picture of Kungawo taking pictures for her Instagram page. Photo by: Rearabilwe Tsebela
Digital platforms open up genuine opportunities across the continent, but navigating industry structures requires patience and adaptability.
Learning the professional side of the media landscape was a formative process for each creator. Ngubeni’s first project came after sharing organic content for a major retail group, which led to a paid opportunity between R4 000 and R6 000. He has since poured his earnings back into tools like an iPad to support his workflow. “The one thing people miss is that this is a business, not a hobby that happened to pay,” Ngubeni notes. “Behind the videos, there are invoices, rate cards, vendor registration forms and pricing decisions.”
Jaxa recalls her first paid campaign in 2020 earning R3000 for a DIY clothing brand shoot in her apartment and credits a major campaign with Steers for boosting her confidence and giving her a crash course in set professionalism.
Both Jaxa and Gwayi highlight managing long payment cycles often taking 30 to 90 days as one of the steepest learning curves for creators. Jaxa advises hiring an accountant as soon as possible to manage cash flow.
Despite the quiet sacrifices behind the scenes, all three creators are building careers to be proud of.
“I would tell them to start now,” Gwayi encourages fellow students. “The more you think about it, the less productive you are being. Allow yourself to be seen trying.
Ngubeni shares a similar sentiment: “Do it scared, do it unsure, do it. Second half: learn to manage your time extremely well and plan your content intentionally.”
For Jaxa, remaining grounded in one’s voice is everything. “Stay true to yourself; authenticity goes such a long way and that’s what your audience wants,” she says. “It is also one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. I have an autonomy over my life that many people are not afforded, and I will always be grateful.”
Watching Gwayi, Ngubeni and Jaxa navigate their paths, it becomes clear that student content creation is about far more than trends or viral moments. It is about brave young people deciding that their stories, their perspectives and their futures belong firmly in their own hands. As they balance long nights of studying with the courage to be seen, they remind us that building a life of purpose does not happen overnight, it is created draft by draft and, post by post.
FEATURED IMAGE: A image of three Witsies buildinding a digital presence as content creators. Photos: Top: Rearabilwe Tsebela, Bottom Left:@praise_ye, Bottom Right:@jaxxofalltrades_sa, Collage: Rearabilwe Tsebela
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
As students trade pen and paper for digital devices, research reveals that screen notes might be hurting memory, focus and learning.
A brain study reveals that handwriting activates deep neutral networks essential for memory and focus.
Typing relies on simple, repetitive key presses that cause students to forget key details.
Picking up a pen this September will help students actively engage with content to improve academic performance.
While many view a handwritten letter as a lost art, science shows that giving up pen and paper comes at a steep cognitive cost. September 1, marks World Letter Writing Day, an annual event meant to encourage people to put down their digital devices and write by hand.
A 2024 brain study from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology proves that handwriting fundamentally changes how the brain learns. Researchers attached 256 sensors to university students to track their brain waves while they wrote with a pen versus typing on a keyboard.
The results showed that writing by hand activated widespread interconnected networks across the brain, particularly in areas responsible for memory formation and encoding new information. Shaping each letter requires careful visual and physical control, movement that stimulates deep brain connectivity and improves memory, spelling accuracy and attention.
By contrast, typing involves simple, repetitive finger presses on identical keys, engaging far fewer brain circuits. Students who type notes process information shallowly and forget key details quickly.
Lerato Seohatse, a senior consultant at the Wits Reading and Writing Centre, explains that writing functions as an active thinking process rather than a mere final product.
“At the Wits Reading and Writing Centre we work with the idea that writing is thinking,” Seohatse said. “Handwriting plays a big role in cleaning out ideas. It slows down the writing process and therefore, the cognitive processes involved in writing”.
Seohatse notes that starting with physical tools allow students to map out concepts freely without the pressure of perfection. “One might start with a mind map, which is so much easier to construct through handwriting. At this stage, the topic is explored freely without pressure. Good writing often starts with a pen on paper,” he added.
On campus, students confirm the visual and mental benefits of sticking to traditional pen and paper.
Keletso Molapo, a first-year BSc electrical engineering student relies on handwriting his school notes to retain information. “When I handwrite, I am able to store information easily. The more I hand write is the more information I am able to obtain,” he said.
Lethabo Mofokeng, a third-year bachelor of arts student double majoring in media and African languages, shares that “I think I performed better academically when I wrote my notes by hand. The main reason is that handwriting made me actively engage with information, I could summarize difficult concepts, underline important words and create my own structure instead of simply typing everything from a lecture or textbook,” Mofokeng said.
While digital devices offer speed, neuroscience and some student experiences suggest that picking up a pen this September might be the best revision tool for Witsies.
FEATURED IMAGE: A visual prompt asking if pen-to-paper writing is now reserved for formal signatures rather than everyday note-taking. Graphic: Rearabilwe Tsebela
Women in journalism face online abuse – threats, harassment and silencing – but their courage and solidarity, show that storytelling and seeking truth matter more than hate.
We live in a remarkable but complex time of converging crises. The shift from ‘traditional’ journalism to digital platforms has transformed the field. Journalists no longer wait for print deadlines or broadcast slots; they speak directly to audiences, explain issues, challenge power and help people make sense of a world that often feels overwhelming.
This excites me, as it opens new creative ways to engage, but it also scares me. Visibility comes with risks and for women, the price is disproportionately high – harassment designed to discredit, exhaust and silence. Threats of physical harm, sexualised abuse and online attacks have become the new ‘normal’.
On August 6, I attended a discussion in Johannesburg between Karyn Maughan, Qaanitah Hunter and Redi Tlhabi, titled Women VS. The Digital Machine. These are three prominent women in journalism, and they spoke about navigating digital hostility while remaining visible and credible. For women, visibility often comes with targeted abuse that is designed to drive us out of the conversation.
A SANEF study found that 75% of South African women journalists face online misogyny. I don’t need statistics to believe it. It is a lived reality for many of the women I look up to. The hostility is not random. It is ‘manufactured anger’, heightened by platforms whose business models thrive on outrage and misinformation.
Women covering politics or corruption are especially targeted. In 2024, Women Press Freedom identified 12 Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation (SLAPP) suits against women reporting on gender issues.
As a postgraduate journalism student, I often think about the work of photojournalist Lynsey Addario. Her career reshaped my understanding of journalism’s power. Addario is a strong advocate that women should not be limited in the assignments they work on. “Men and women have different access, we relate to people on different levels, and people respond to us differently, so certainly that will create a different dynamic with a camera, but I don’t think that, for example, as a woman I see differently,” she said. “What I choose to capture is possibly different from what my male colleagues do.”
Social media, the same tool that connects us to readers, also amplifies anger and division. Anonymous accounts and bots spread lies and hate. We are living in a time that some call ‘hyperpolitics’ – a state of politicisation without corresponding political action.
Yet women journalists continue to report, hold power to account and to tell stories that matter. Their dedication inspires me. It reminds me that journalism is not about ourselves; it is about trying to tell the truth, empathy and refusing silence. As Tlhabi said, “If we get obsessed with the hate we get, then they have won.” Section 16 of the South African Constitution protects freedom of expression. The question Tlhabi always comes back to is, “What is the cost of my silence? If I stay quiet, who benefits and who suffers?”
Safety of women in journalism. Graphic: Hannah Brown
There are no easy solutions. Governments and media institutions must take cyber misogyny seriously. Platforms must be held accountable for the anonymity that shields abusers. Newsrooms, even as they shrink, need stronger support systems. And as journalists we must find solidarity, because joy is a form of resistance too.
As Hunter shares, “Don’t become what you fight. Foster joy. There is nothing that can contend with hate more than seeing a happy woman.”
Journalism has the power to change how people see the world. That is worth fighting for and it is worth protecting. As filmmaker Alice Aedy stated, “how to bring stories to life in a landscape that feels more challenging but perhaps riper with possibility than ever.”
Despite the hostility, I feel hopeful entering this field. Women in journalism have already transformed the industry, but the attacks are disproportionate, and we must continue to stand together. The advice I hear repeated is simple: never stop learning, never stop reading, and never forget the privilege and responsibility of this work.
FEATURED IMAGE: Safety of women in journalism. Graphic: Hannah Brown
On International Left Handers Day, students share the everyday struggles of navigating a space built almost entirely for the right-handed majority.
Thursday, August 13, marks International Left Handers Day, an annual event meant to highlight the daily challenges faced by left-handed people living in a space built predominantly for right-handers.
A pie chart graphic illustrating the gap between left-handed and right-handed people. Photo: Rearabilwe Tsebela
Handism is prevalent even though 10% of the global population is left-handed. From lecture halls to basic household items, almost everything is designed for the right-handed majority.
For many lefties, this bias starts at home from a very young age. In many families left-handed children are trained to use their right hand for writing or eating.
Using right-handed tools every day might seem like a small issue to most, but it leads to physical discomfort and a slower working speed.
At Wits University, students share how these design barriers shape their daily lives.
Enhle Luthuli, a fourth-year postgraduate diploma in specialized accounting student, said, “I was never aware that they were actually left-handed scissors, which I acquired once and made my life easier as I could see where I was actually cutting”. Writing also presents physical challenges. “I have become so picky with the type of pens I write with because if the pen is a gel pen, my hand may smudge on what I had just written resulting in my work looking untidy,” she added. In lecture halls Luthuli makes it a point to sit on the far left side to avoid bumping arms with right-handed peers.
Katlego Modiba, a third-year accounting science student, noted that specific everyday objects still create challenging moments. “You feel demoralized when you encounter a situation that forces you to change your hands,” Modiba said. He explained that everyday tasks like using a tin opener or shifting gears while driving can be tricky because as a left-handed driver using their stronger arm can damage the car when too aggressive. In high school, Modiba even had to give up softball because all the available sports gloves were made for right-handed players.
Compounding these struggles is the reality that left-handed items like specialty scissors and sports equipment often cost more than the standard right-handed ones. Because schools and sports teams rarely buy these pricier options, left-handed people often do not know they exist, leaving them with no choice but to adapt or pay the price out of their own pockets.
A graphic defining “handism” as an unintentional design oversight that fails to account for 10% of the population. Photo: Rearabilwe Tsebela
Yet, despite having an official date on the calendar. International Left Handers Day usually passes without most left-handed people knowing it exists, let alone celebrating it.
This raises an important question: is International Left Handers Day really meant for left-handed people or is it a necessary wake up call for a right-hand dominated society? Behind every smudged notebook, awkward seating choice and missed opportunity lies a quiet daily effort to adapt. A little empathy and more inclusive design can ensure that no one feels left out in a world that so easily forgets them.
FEATURED IMAGE:A graphic highlighting the purpose of International Left-Handers Day. Photo: Rearabilwe Tsebela
I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See invites visitors to discover the extraordinary hidden in everyday places.
On 4 August 2026, the Wits Art Museum opened “I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See”, an exhibition that explores the idea of home through photography. Rather than presenting home as simply a physical place, the exhibition challenges visitors to consider how belonging can exist in ordinary spaces and everyday moments that often go unnoticed.
The exhibition celebrates the legacy of renowned South African photographer David Goldblatt in what would have been his 95th year. Inspired by Goldblatt’s belief that photography reveals what is often overlooked, the exhibition explores themes of identity, memory, belonging, and place. It features work by nine predominantly Johannesburg-based photographers documenting diverse experiences of life in and around the city, alongside photographs from the “Of Soul and Joy” photography initiative. The exhibition’s title comes from a memorable encounter in which a stranger described Goldblatt’s work by saying, “I understand what you do. You show us what we do not see.”
That sentiment is reflected throughout the exhibition. A passer-by may see only a busy Johannesburg street or an ordinary neighbourhood, while someone else recognises it as a place of comfort, memory, and belonging. The exhibition encourages viewers to pause and reconsider these familiar spaces, revealing the stories that exist just beneath the surface.
One of the exhibition’s greatest strengths is its curation. Each body of work flows naturally into the next, allowing the conversation around home and memory to develop seamlessly as visitors move through the gallery. Although each photographer presents a distinct perspective, the exhibition never feels disjointed. Instead, every collection builds upon the last, reinforcing the central theme and making it easy to understand the exhibition’s message without it ever feeling repetitive or forced.
A picture of one of the art works displayed by Sanele Sithole
Among the featured artists, Jabulani Dhlamini’s “Poloko: In Soweto” stood out most. His work explores the hidden histories of Soweto through photographs of homes, portraits, and personal stories. Rather than focusing solely on well-known historical sites, Dhlamini captures everyday spaces that have quietly become symbols of resilience, identity, and belonging. His photographs reveal how residents have transformed apartheid-era houses into places that carry personal and collective memories while also reflecting on the legacy of the 1976 Soweto Uprising and his own family history.
As someone from Soweto, Dhlamini’s work resonated with me on a personal level. The homes, streets, and familiar surroundings he photographs are places I have seen countless times, often without giving them much thought. Seeing these everyday spaces displayed in a gallery reminded me that what feels ordinary to those who live there can also hold extraordinary meaning. His photographs challenged me to look beyond what is immediately visible and appreciate the stories, memories, and histories embedded in places I have always called home.
More than a photography exhibition, “I Understand What You Do. You Show Us What We Do Not See” succeeds in encouraging visitors to slow down and look closer. Its thoughtful curation ensures that the works complement one another, while its central theme of home is communicated with clarity and sensitivity. By the time visitors leave the gallery, they are reminded that home is not simply a place on a map but a feeling shaped by memory, identity, and lived experience. It is an exhibition that quietly asks us to reconsider the familiar and, in doing so, reveals the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary.
Hundreds took to the streets, calling for protection of housing rights and an end to rising xenophobia.
Operation Ubuntu marched to the Premier’s Office to oppose the PIE amendment and rising anti-migrant sentiment.
Housing activists and informal settlers argue that the revision to the PIE Act criminalises poverty.
The march’s memorandum calls for greater state accountability in handling anti-migrant hostility.
On the morning of August 8, a coalition of over 60 social justice organisations under the name Operation Ubuntu led a march to the Premier’s Office demanding an end to xenophobia and a rejection of the proposed amendment to the Prevention of Illegal Eviction (PIE) Act.
The march was one of many coordinated protests taking place in Johannesburg, Cape Town and Durban in response to two issues affecting marginalised communities: ongoing xenophobia and housing insecurity.
Marchers charging through the streets holding banners and placards. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Woman holding a placard condemning xenophobia. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Frustration as protestors march for housing rights and an end to xenophobia. Photo Jamie Ho.
Central to the protest was the recent proposal for an amendment to the PIE Act. Currently, people cannot be evicted from their homes without a court order as the Act operates in accordance with Section 26 of the Constitution, which stipulates that “everyone has the right to access adequate housing”.
Activists fear the proposed amendments would weaken these protections, particularly for people living in informal settlements and other forms of insecure housing. They are particularly concerned that courts could order evictions without requiring municipalities to provide alternative accommodation.
“The municipality cannot have that power of evicting us without meaningfully engaging with us and without even understanding our background,” said Operation Ubuntu coordinator, General Moyo.
Housing activists condemn the proposed revision for failing to address the structural causes of housing insecurity that stem from poverty, entrenched inequality and poor governance. Instead, it places further strain on already vulnerable communities by forcing them out of their homes.
“Critics have long referred to this approach as pounding the tip of the ice-berg or swatting at the flies when a corpse is rotting,” explained Marie Huchzermeyer of Siyafana Sonke, a civic movement aligned with Operation Ubuntu.
Furthermore, the government’s persistent failure to address housing insecurity has left residents with few options. “In 33 years, not one RDP house was built in our community,” said Fagmedah Edeies, who resides in an informal settlement within Eldorado Park. “As a mother, I must remember that I have children and I have grandchildren. Where will they then go if this amendment is passed?”
Data visualisation showing housing backlog. By: Jamie Ho.
Beyond housing insecurity, the march also confronts escalating waves of xenophobia across the nation. “We are in solidarity with all the African brothers and sisters that are facing the crisis,” Moyo affirmed.
In their memorandum, Operation Ubuntu called for greater action from state institutions in handling matters of anti-migrant hostility.
Firstly, it singled out SAPS for not protecting vulnerable migrant communities from vigilantism. “We are calling on the police,” Moyo explained, “to make sure that they abide by their obligation which is to serve and protect without discrimination and without favour.”
Secondly, they highlighted the issue of documentation as a systemic failure by Home Affairs and demanded a two-year moratorium on all arrests and forced repatriations to allow migrants sufficient time to obtain documents.
Thirdly, in light of the upcoming elections, Moyo warned political parties against scapegoating migrants for electoral gain. “We will be watching those that will be campaigning trying to use the platform of hate and violence in communities to get votes.”
Held on the eve of Women’s Day, the march highlighted the broader demand for dignity, security and equal protection. For protestors, xenophobia and housing rights are part of the same struggle: a move to ensure that vulnerable communities, and the women and children within them, are not left without a home or a voice.
A mother holding a placard advocating for women and children safety. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Protestors chanting through the streets against the PIE Act amendment and xenophobic violence. Photo: Jamie Ho.
“Stop treating us like animals” reads sign at protest. Photo: Jamie Ho.
FEATURED IMAGE: A placard advocating for women and children safety during the Operation Ubuntu protest. Photo: Jamie Ho.
Young researchers gather at Wits to present solutions to rising global issues.
Falling Walls Lab Gauteng was held at Wits where students competed for a spot on the international stage in Berlin.
The competition required pitchers to present an idea that addresses global challenges.
Researchers, innovators, and entrepreneurs were given an opportunity to engage with people outside of their disciplines and institutions.
A Wits honours student, Alimerinda Mlambo, will represent Gauteng at the international Falling Walls Lab finale in Berlin after winning the provincial competition, with an AI-powered translation platform designed to break language barriers.
Picture of Alimerinda Mlambo, the winner of Falling Walls Lab Gauteng 2026, and her certificate & ticket to Berlin. Photo: Kerese Govender
The competition, held at Wits on August 5, saw about 20 students drawn from Wits, University of Pretoria, and Tshwane University of Technology, present their innovations aimed at tackling some of the country’s most difficult challenges.
The event was hosted in partnership with the DAAD Information Centre Johannesburg and the Falling Walls Foundation. Participants had just three minutes, including answering judges’ questions, to convince an expert jury that their pitch could help solve global issues.
Mlambo, an Information Systems honours student, took first place with her invention, eLingo AI, which aims to solve language exclusion in public spaces through real-time translations. She used a fictional character by the name of Lerato in her pitch, but the story was inspired by her lived experience of sitting through a conference presentation delivered in French that she could not understand.
When asked if this will cost human interpreters their jobs, Mlambo said, “We’re not trying to replace interpreters. We’re making language accessibility available to organisations that could not afford it otherwise.”
Unlike traditional interpretation services which rely on multiple interpreters, special equipment, and significant expenses and planning, eLingo offers an affordable alternative. The platform already includes all 11-official spoken South African languages and has attracted more than 100 beta users. Mlambo stated that the team has plans to expand to other languages.
She believes this kind of software is especially needed in South Africa, where only a small portion of the country’s population speaks English as a home language. “I want to create a future where people are no longer excluded from conversations they were meant to be a part of,” Mlambo said.
Dr Samia Chasi, Head of Wits Internationalisation and Strategic Partnerships Office and chair of the judging panel, said the competition is much more than selecting a winner. “It gives students an opportunity to present their own research to audiences beyond their own disciplines and institutions,” Chasi said.
“We have very creative and innovative communities in South Africa and Africa, and we can offer our own solutions to the rest of the world. We can’t always look at importing ideas,” Chasi said.
Among the interesting innovations was the third-place winning project by Cynthia Gwada which focused on an affordable diagnosis for sickle cell disease. The solution aims to expand access to rural areas in South Africa so “they don’t have to go to the cities with money that they don’t have,.” Gwada said.
Picture of Cynthia Gwada, third place winner of the Falling Walls Lab Gauteng 2026, and her certificate. Photo: Kerese Govender
Gwada also hopes to expand the diagnostics to other diseases such as malaria and tuberculosis, making diagnosis more affordable and accessible.
As Mlambo prepares to compete in Berlin, she hopes her success will inspire more young black women to pursue careers in male-dominated fields such as hers.
“Don’t wait for a seat at the table. Go and build a table,” she said.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of Falling Walls Lab Gauteng 2026 pamphlet and souvenir. Photo: Kerese Govender
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 […]
