2 | Editorial
19 October 2026
From the editor
PDBY Media Copy: Lereko Lebata Eddy Mailula Zukhanye Kani Hannah Roberts Luke Masala Hannah Roberts Paballo Makgabutlane
“Inheriting a legacy is an honour, giving it a future is my responsibility.”
P
erhaps it is fitting that my first entry begins the same way my life did: with my mother. Before I ever understood the weight of a byline, the responsibility of an editor, or the power of a story, she was where I first learned the meaning of a voice. She is where I began. My mother was my first example of strength, resilience, grace, and ambition. Beginning my tenure as Editor, my commitment is simple: to lead with integrity, to pursue the truth without fear or favour, to develop the voices entrusted to this publication, and to ensure that this newspaper remains one our university can trust. These are big shoes to fill, Dom. Thank you for leaving behind more than a title, but a standard and a legacy. I say that with both gratitude and humility. Humility because I stand on the shoulders of all those who ed came before me: the Editors, urc : So l a writers, photographers, and u Vis contributors whose dedication Sive and I are now fortunate enough to help carry forward. In a world where opinions compete for attention and headlines disappear almost as quickly as they arrive, having a voice means having the courage to question, to challenge, and, perhaps most importantly, to remember. To remember the stories that might otherwise disappear. To remember the people whose voices might otherwise have gone unheard. To remember that journalism is not simply about telling us what happened, but about asking why it happened, what it means, and what happens next. I have always loved reading. Literature
taught me that words can do far more than tell stories. They can challenge beliefs, preserve memories and confront power. It is that belief in the power of words that drew me to student journalism. Some writers have stayed with me long after I have closed their books. Orwell taught me to question power, language, and the stories institutions tell us about ourselves. Dostoevsky taught me to look inward, to sit with contradiction, morality, suffering, and the extraordinary complexity of being human. Most importantly, the work of the journalists at PDBY has influenced not only the way I read, but the way I think. They have taught me to think critically. Question deliberately. Listen carefully. Because the most important stories are rarely the simplest ones. Good writing does not always give us answers. Sometimes, it gives us better questions. Behind every article is a person who cared enough to ask a question. Someone who researched, listened, interviewed, challenged, edited, and returned to the story until it was worthy of being told. Journalism is collaborative, and this newspaper is no different. It is built by people who believe that our campus deserves journalism that informs, inspires, interrogates, and, when necessary, holds power to account. As student journalists, we are not merely observers of history. We are participants in it. And so are you. Every member of our university community has a voice. But a voice means little if we
are unwilling to use it. That is why, as we approach the upcoming elections, I encourage everyone to recognise the value of their voice and to use it. Read. Question. Listen. Consider the issues that affect you and the community around you. Engage with the choices before you, and when the time comes, vote. Whatever your position, your voice deserves to be informed, considered, and heard. And perhaps that is the thread that connects everything in this first entry. My mother taught me that a voice is something worth having. Literature taught me that words can change the way we see the world. Journalism taught me that those words carry responsibility. And this newspaper has reminded me that a voice becomes more powerful when shared. So, use yours. Speak when something needs to be said. And when you have the opportunity to shape the community around you, do not underestimate the power of participating. Perhaps that is what I hope this term of the PDBY will be about: not simply giving people a platform, but reminding them that they already have a voice, one worth remembering. With that, I pray you continue to trust our publication as we enter a new term. I am Amai and it is an honour to officially meet you as the incoming Editor of the PDBY’s 88th term.
Amai
yourcampusnews. To advertise in PDBY contact
PDBY Media
Print, Digital, and Broadcast Youth Media
www.pdby.co.za Twitter: @PDBYMedia Instagram: @PDBYMedia Facebook: PDBYMedia Tel: (012) 420 6597
Tel: 012 420 6597 Cell: 083 318 9738 carel.willemse@up.ac.za
Editorial Editor-in-chief Carel Willemse Editor Amai Ngulube Deputy Editor Sivenathi Makhanda News Kofi Donkor Features Lydia la Grange Entertainment Atanda Ntlantsana Sport Cayden Coetzer
carel.willemse@up.ac.za @Ed_in_Chief editor@pdby.co.za @pdbymedia digitalmanager@pdby.co.za news@pdby.co.za features@pdby.co.za entertainment@pdby.co.za sport@pdby.co.za
Copy Lereko Lebata Layout Lesedi Mathuloe Creative Design Khanyisa Motsepe Visual Media Bernedette Etchells Dynamic Media Mpho Mahlangu Web Mpho Makwela Social Media Jack Tsanwani
copy@pdby.co.za layout@pdby.co.za
visuals@pdby.co.za multimedia@pdby.co.za webeditor@pdby.co.za
Layout: Alyx Bell Lesedi Mathuloe Esethu Maganda Charney Breakspear Fundeka Mbanjwa
Social Media: Jack Tsanwani Precaution Shongwe Lara-Michell Olivier Ano Makhado Cover: Khanyisa Motsepe
Visual Media: Bernedette Etchells Gabriella le Roux Mpho Makwela Mila Jordaan Khanyisa Motsepe Amy Lamplough Daniel Green Jemma Thompson Dynamic Media: Mpho Mahlangu Dineo Tswai Anita Solarin Keira Thaoge Emery van Niekerk Ano Makhado Samukelo Mafuze Web: Mpho Makwela Christabel Muthoni Phathutshedzo Mashau Cynthia Mashaba Esethu Maganda
TIP LINE Send us your anonymous news tips by scanning the QR code.
KNOW SOMETHING? SAY SOMETHING
Letter policy PDBY appreciates that freedom of speech is an inalienable right enshrined in the Constitution of the Republic South Africa. We encourage our readers to engage in discussion and debate on issues that affect them through letters to the Editor, comments on our website, tweets, or posts on Facebook. We ask our readers to keep the following in mind: 1.PDBY will not edit letters, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts in any way. 2. PDBY will label letters, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts as opinion. These do not represent the views of PDBY in any way. 3. The PDBY editorial must approve letters, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts before they are published. 4. PDBY will not publish letters, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts that are defamatory, or libelous, or that contain offensive content. PDBY reserves the right to practice discretion when publishing letters, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts. 5. PDBY reserves the right to publish any content we receive unless the sender specifically requests otherwise. 6. PDBY reserves the right to retract a letter, comment, tweet, or Facebook post after it has been published. 7. PDBY reserves the right to retract a letter, comment, tweet, or Facebook post after it has been published. 8. PDBY will not accept responsibility for any consequences the author of a letter, comments, tweets, or Facebook posts may experience as a result of the letter being published. 9. PDBY will only publish letters between 150 and 200 words. 10. PDBY will not publish letters unless the writer confirms their full name, student number and contact number. PDBY will not publish this information, we need it for our records.
Copyright PDBY is printed by Paarlmedia. All rights reserved. Contributions are welcome. All due care will be taken with materials submitted, but PDBY and printers cannot be held responsible for loss or damage. The editor reserves the right to edit, amend or alter in any way deemed necessary. PDBYcannot be responsible for unsolicited material. The opinions expressed in PDBY are not necessarily those of the editors and printers of PDBY.
19 October 2026
News | 3
A Meal A Day Keeps the Budget at Bay: TuksRes Food Services Responds to Student Grievances By Londeka Mbokane
A
s living costs continue to skyrocket, UP students continue to increasingly feel the effects of inflation, specifically as it pertains to dining hall prices. This has caused frustration from as far back as 2014 per PDBY’s archives, leading many to question TuksRes Food Services’ priorities as it pertains to students’ food security and wellbeing. During the second-quarter SRC student forum, multiple questions were raised by attendees. Concerns regarding affordability, operating hours and food options were raised to the SRC Officer for Residence Life, Lesedi Mokgawa. Following which, he briefly stated how it is a frequent topic of discussion and TuksRes Food Services states that they are “already running at a loss” trying to ensure affordability for students. Mokgawa further proceeded to extend an invitation for concerned students to join him, upon request and scheduling with the relevant stakeholders. In response to some of these queries, PDBY corresponded with TuksRes Food Services Deputy Director, Peter Martin, who speedily furnished a reply. Many students report difficulty trying to manage the R100 daily food limit, with some reporting that they can only afford two light meals a day, excluding beverages and snacks. Mr Martin Visual: Sourced addressed the price justifications, explaining that UP food pricing is directly affected by the same pressures experienced across the wider food industry. It is therefore affected by the price increases of ingredients, labour, utilities, transport and other operational costs. However, within these constraints, TuksRes Food Services continues to strive towards ensuring good
quality and economical meal options for students. The response, ultimately filtered into the next question, was about why chicken is such a highly favoured protein source and the lack of a wider variety of options. Student purchasing patterns indicate that chicken is a popular choice and considerably way more affordable than any red-meat alternatives. Martin further went on to state
that menus include other protein options and put to rest any conspiracies as to whether the University is part of some “chicken cartel”. These patterns are likely to show increased purchases of chicken, especially since the menus regularly contain three chicken options and only one alternative protein source.
Notably, on 9 October 2025, TuksRes Food Services and former SRC Officer for Student Life, Nosikhumbuzo Jali, had arranged a meeting, open to all students, to discuss any dining hall concerns. The initiative was met with low attendance as it was scheduled two days before test week was set to begin, causing students to have to prioritise their academics. This was one of the few formal dialogue sessions scheduled to discuss related matters. Regardless of this, Martin stated that effective communication with students is essential. It is encouraged to occur across several channels, including House Committees, Heads of Residences, the SRC and direct engagement with Food Services via their email address to ensure constructive dialogue throughout the year. Similar considerations apply to the challenge posed by dining halls closing during regular operating hours during the irregular operation of test weeks. Martin proposed that Food Services is willing to consider and assess the need for extending operations during academically demanding periods. This would firstly require consultation with student leadership. Noticeably, the operation of the food caravans during weekends on South Street, opposite House Nala, has since followed. The response by Mr Martin clearly suggests a willingness for student engagement regarding food services. Proactive efforts are required from residence leadership in order to effectively voice concerns of the broader residence community. To bridge the gap between the logistical constraints and student wellbeing will require open and constructive dialogue between all the relevant stakeholders.
Studentpreneurs challenged to turn ideas into action at EDHE-ABSA Indaba By Kofi Donkor and Lutricia Phiri
S
tudent entrepreneurs from across South Africa were challenged to look beyond having innovative ideas and focus on the realities of building businesses that can create lasting economic and social impact during the EDHE-ABSA Studentpreneurs Indaba 2026. Held on 10 and 11 September by Universities South Africa through its Entrepreneurship Development in Higher Education (EDHE) programme, the two-day conference brought together student entrepreneurs, academics and industry professionals to showcase businesses, network and learn from established entrepreneurs. This year’s theme, “Entrepreneurship in Action: From Vision to Implementation. From Policy to Impact” highlighted the need to move beyond conversations about entrepreneurship and towards practical action.
From ideas to innovation
The first day placed innovation and technology at the centre of the programme, with students participating in a 24-hour Virtual FinTech Hackathon. Participants were challenged to explore how technology could help small and medium-sized enterprises access money from their bank invoices in less than 90 days. Teams were required to develop a prototype and present their solutions within the limited timeframe. The University of Pretoria team consisted of Joey Swandhle, Baraka Kileo and Tebogo Phasha. Together, they developed Proofflow, a programme designed to help SMEs access funding before invoices are paid by making sure that the invoice is consistent and having large customers approve said invoices. The hackathon challenged students to develop software under pressure, while also teaching them the importance of teamwork, pitching, marketing and networking.
Learning from established entrepreneurs
The second day shifted towards the conference, pitch festival and exhibitions, giving students the opportunity to engage with established entrepreneurs and showcase their own businesses. Entrepreneur and Chairperson Mr Abed Tau reflected on his journey from studying accounting to building businesses, encouraging students to understand the purpose behind their ventures rather than simply following popular trends. “Your why is your greatest motivation,” he said. Tau, a serial entrepreneur, also reminded students that their academic qualifications do not have to determine the limits of their careers. “Your qualification is not your cage. Live a life of passion,” he stated.
Entrepreneurship with a purpose
For some studentpreneurs, entrepreneurship begins with identifying challenges within their communities. PDBY spoke to UP student entrepreneur Adelina Belinda Mahuri, a B.Com student specialising in Business Management, whose business seeks to address water scarcity. Mahuri’s business, which began in 2025, is currently in its research and funding stage. Her ideas include using solar systems to turn moist sand into water and pump systems to extract water from soil. Her long-term vision
includes developing artificial plants capable of extracting and storing water, while drawing inspiration from plants that naturally retain water. Inspired by water shortages in her community, Mahuri hopes to develop solutions that can benefit communities where access to water remains a challenge. However, she said securing funding remains one of the difficulties facing her venture. Her experience highlights the challenge of balancing social impact with the financial sustainability required to grow a business.
Beyond the glamour
PDBY also spoke to UP Information Technology student Tebogo Phasha, who participated in the FinTech Hackathon through TuksNovation. One of the discussions that resonated most with Tebogo was Amohetse Shale’s focus on the less glamorous aspects of entrepreneurship. He reflected that entrepreneurship is often presented through exciting success stories, while much of the work happens behind the scenes. Understanding regulations, conducting research and obtaining the necessary licences are some of the less visible tasks involved in building a business. For Teboho, the biggest lesson from the event was the importance of slowing down when necessary. Drawing on an example shared at the event about the founder of Legends Barber, Tebogo compared entrepreneurship to boxing, where after being knocked down, it can sometimes be wiser to take the eight-count and regain composure rather than immediately getting back up while still disoriented.
Learning from failure
The experiences shared at Indaba also showed that successful businesses are not built without setbacks. Lesego Gumede, founder and CEO of Sneaker Cleanic, reflected on his journey from cleaning shoes with a friend in a township carport to expanding the business into multiple locations. His journey included closing one store despite it generating revenue because its location and operating conditions were not sustainable. He also spoke about developing systems that allowed the business to continue operating when he was forced to step away from it. Gumede emphasised patience, persistence, risk-taking and having a clear vision, reminding entrepreneurs that they need to know where they are, where they are going and how they intend to get there. “If you don’t risk, you don’t win,” he said.
Showcasing student businesses
The previous day’s programme also included giveaways, adding an element of engagement and excitement for participating students. Among the businesses represented at the Indaba were Mishies Company, Empowering Township Economics, Cyber Geek, Ubuntu Hackers and Increase from the University of Zululand, alongside student entrepreneurs from institutions including the University of Venda. The exhibitions provided studentpreneurs with an opportunity to place their businesses directly in front of fellow entrepreneurs, academics and potential supporters. For many, this created a space not only to showcase what they had built, but also to connect with others who could contribute to the growth of their ventures.
From vision to implementation
Across both days, one message continued to emerge: entrepreneurship is about more than having an idea. It is about being willing to test that idea, learn from failure, understand the realities of the market, seek support and continue building even when progress is slower than expected. For studentpreneurs, the difficult parts of the journey should not necessarily be viewed as reasons to stop. They can become opportunities to learn, refine an idea and build something stronger. The EDHE-ABSA Studentpreneurs Indaba ultimately reminded students that they do not have to wait until graduation to begin creating solutions. Universities can be spaces where ideas are tested, businesses are developed and meaningful connections are formed. For the student with an idea sitting in a notebook, the message is simple: start where you are, learn as you go and do not be afraid to take the time needed to build something of value. The next business, solution or innovation that changes a community could begin with you.
More than a conference
For students, the value of the Indaba extended beyond the formal programme. Student entrepreneurs were able to meet potential collaborators, receive advice from established entrepreneurs, showcase their businesses and learn from people working in sectors different from their own. UP student and founder of GlanSen Graduation Wear, Tetelo Glan Senyolo, highlighted the networking opportunities and advice he received from successful entrepreneurs. His business was created after identifying the difficulty students experience when trying to find affordable graduation regalia. He hopes to expand the business to other universities, with connections made through the Indaba helping him work towards this goal.
Photo: Sourced
4 | News
19 October 2026
Celebrating Mentorship, Honouring Excellence By Lutricia Phiri
H
eld on 10 September 2026 at the University of Pretoria’s Aula Hall, the STARS Mentorship Programme hosted its annual Awards Ceremony, bringing together mentors, student leaders, programme representatives and members of the university community to celebrate dedication, growth and excellence within the mentorship programme. The ceremony recognised mentors across the university’s faculties for their commitment to supporting students throughout their academic journeys. The evening also marked a transition in leadership as the outgoing STARS Executive Committee handed over to the incoming 2026/27 Executive Committee.
A Celebration of Mentorship The evening opened with a welcoming address by Lesedi Ramokoka, followed by opening remarks from Veronica Israel. A saxophone performance by student saxophone player Tendai further elevated the atmosphere, receiving a standing ovation from attendees. The programme then moved into the recognition of mentors across the faculties of Education, Natural and Agricultural Sciences, Health Sciences, Theology and Religion, Humanities, Economic and Management Sciences, Engineering, Built Environment and Information Technology and Law. When asked about the significance of the awards, Israel noted that the ceremony provided an opportunity to recognise the dedication, growth and achievements of mentors throughout the year. “The annual awards ceremony is an opportunity to celebrate the dedication, growth and achievements of our mentors throughout the year. It recognises the effort, commitment and positive influence of mentors who have guided and supported first-year mentees throughout their transition into university life,” said Israel. She added that standout mentors demonstrated “exceptional commitment, reliability and genuine care for their mentees,” consistently making themselves available to provide guidance, encouragement and support. Recognising Commitment and Growth Beyond academic assistance, mentorship provides students with a space to build confidence, navigate challenges and develop meaningful relationships. According to Israel, STARS has created a platform where students can learn from one another, share experiences and navigate university life more effectively. PDBY spoke to Education mentor Lebogile Tiyiselani, who said being recognised for her contribution was meaningful because mentoring was something she enjoyed. “Honestly, it means a lot to me. Being a mentor was something I genuinely enjoyed and knowing that my efforts were noticed makes me feel really appreciated,” she said. For Tiyiselani, mentorship also reshaped her understanding of leadership. “Sometimes leadership is simply being there for someone, listening to them and helping them find their own way,” she said. She encouraged future mentors to remain approachable and willing to listen. “My biggest
advice would be to be yourself, be approachable and, most importantly, listen. You do not always have to have the perfect answer. Sometimes just being there for someone and letting them know that they are not alone can make a big difference,” she said. Passing the Baton The awards ceremony also represented a change in leadership as the outgoing Executive Committee handed over Stars blazers to incoming members. The incoming committee also presented the outgoing members with certificates and chocolates in recognition of their contributions. Outgoing EBIT Faculty Coordinator Cynthia Mmathapelo Mashaba reflected on the lessons she gained from her term, particularly around planning, collaboration and leadership. “Being a Faculty Co-ordinator taught me that good events do not run on luck; they run on planning. Every event put together, from proposal to budgets and venue bookings to execution, shows how much intention it takes to create something mentors and mentees walk away valuing,” she stated. Mashaba identified FUN-Roller, a cross-faculty event organised by six faculty co-ordinators, as one of her memorable experiences. The event also became an opportunity to introduce new students to STARS when mentors and mentees brought friends along. Reflecting on leadership, Mashaba said it was less about being at the forefront and more about creating an environment where others could thrive. “Leadership on the EC taught me that it is not really about being the one out front but more about creating the conditions for other people to have a good experience,” she said. A New Chapter for STARS As the new Executive Committee prepares to lead the programme forward, incoming Theology and Religion Executive Co-ordinator Nonceba Zwane said the role presents an opportunity to challenge herself and give back to a programme that had a meaningful impact on her first-year experience. “I like challenging myself and doing things that are outside my comfort zone, because I believe there is no growth in being comfortable,” she said. Zwane hopes to strengthen her leadership confidence, critical thinking and conflict-resolution skills while engaging with different student bodies and faculties. Speaking on the wider purpose of mentorship, she said STARS demonstrates that university should be about more than obtaining a qualification. “For me, such a programme means that it cares more about the well-being of students, mainly the first years. It is not only about them coming to the institution to get their degrees/qualifications, but it goes beyond that.” Celebrating Faculty Excellence One of the evening’s notable recognitions was the announcement of the Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences (NAS) as the STARS Mentorship Faculty of the Year 2026. PDBY spoke to outgoing NAS Faculty Co-ordinator Christopher Zulu about the significance of the achievement and what contributed to the faculty’s success. “Being named Faculty of the Year is an incredibly meaningful achievement for the Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences. For me, it represents
the collective effort, commitment and consistency of everyone who contributed to mentorship within the faculty,” he stated. Zulu attributed the faculty’s strong engagement to its ability to respond to the needs of mentors and mentees while building meaningful collaborations. Partnerships with PULSE, NATHouse and SRC expanded support and opportunities for students, while collaborations with external partners such as Liberty introduced financial, professional and developmental opportunities. “Ultimately, I think it was the combination of strong internal participation, intentional collaboration and genuinely listening to what our mentors and mentees needed that contributed to the faculty’s success.” Looking ahead, Zulu hopes the award will become a foundation for continued growth. “I hope this achievement becomes a foundation rather than a finishing point. Going forward, I would like to see mentorship become even more inclusive, structured and sustainable within the faculty,” he said. Celebrating a Legacy of Mentorship The evening concluded with the announcement of the 2026/27 STARS Executive Committee, entertainment by Neri, special awards and closing proceedings. While the ceremony celebrated individual achievements, it also highlighted the relationships, leadership and sense of belonging that underpin mentorship. From recognising individual mentors to celebrating NAS as Faculty of the Year, the evening demonstrated that meaningful mentorship is built through consistency, collaboration and a willingness to support others. The STARS Mentorship Awards were not merely a thanksgiving to the mentors who have dedicated their time and efforts to the programme. They marked a continuous celebration of the people who keep the University of Pretoria’s first-year students going, supporting them through the challenges of university life and reminding them that they do not have to navigate the journey alone.
Photo: Lutricia Phiri
Beyond the TexT: UP Book Launch examines ngũgĩ wa thiong’o and AfricAn LiTerAry deBates By Lutricia Phiri
T
he University of Pretoria hosted the launch of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o in Context on 16 September 2026, bringing together scholars, academics and students for a day of intellectual conversations centred on the life, literature and legacy of the late Kenyan writer and scholar Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. The event was organised by Miss Amanda Thongha, Event and Communications Manager. The morning began with networking and intellectual exchanges among attendees, creating a space that brought together African scholars and University of Pretoria students. Guests from institutions including the University of South Africa (UNISA), the University of Johannesburg (UJ) and the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) were also in attendance. The launch was opened by James Ogude, the editor of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o in Context, who welcomed attendees before the discussions turned towards the importance of understanding African literature and scholarship within its wider context. Ogude, who previously served as a scholar at Wits, was also recognised for his contribution to scholarship and mentorship. His academic journey included 21 years of work in the field, during which he mentored numerous students. Professor Nolwazi Mkhwanazi, an anthropologist, also contributed to the opening discussions, reflecting on the significance of the conversations taking place around African knowledge and scholarship. The launch also featured Professor Simone Gikandi from the United States, bringing an international scholarly perspective to the discussions. A central theme throughout the launch was the importance of advocating for research produced by African students and scholars at African institutions. The discussions highlighted how research from the continent can contribute new debates and perspectives that deserve to be heard and explored. One of the questions raised during the discussions was: “Can any theories produced escape Africanism?” The question opened a broader conversation about Africanism across different fields of study, including anthropology, theology and literature. The speakers explored the different forms of knowledge that emerge from African contexts and how these can contribute to wider academic debates. The discussion also considered the different kinds of knowledge encountered in Ngũgĩ’s work and how changes in context can influence the way his writing is understood. Ngũgĩ’s books, the speakers noted, have continued to speak to multiple generations. His writing has created opportunities for readers and scholars to engage with questions surrounding history, identity, language and African
society. The first discussion segment featured Professor Grace Musila from the Department of African Literature at Wits University, Professor Ronit Frenkel from the Department of English at UJ, Professor Siphiwo Mahala from the Department of English at UJ and Professor Isaac Ndlovu from the Department of English at UP. Each discussant reflected on their contribution to the book and explained the approach they used when engaging with Ngũgĩ’s work. Their different contributions demonstrated the various ways in which his literature can be explored through different academic perspectives. The second segment returned to the importance of context when reading and interpreting literature. Ogude emphasised the need for readers to remain attentive to the text while also considering the critical contexts surrounding it. The discussion considered what may have influenced Ngũgĩ as a writer and the extent of the library and literary works to which writers are exposed. Ngũgĩ’s relationship with the past and history was also explored, including his reflection on being haunted by the past and history. Context, the speakers noted, is also important in understanding how writers travel and encounter different ideas, people and literary traditions. Professor Musila further reflected on how Ngũgĩ’s context is taught and understood, connecting the conversation to broader African literary debates and the place of African literary classics within university spaces. For students attending the launch, the conversations offered an opportunity to connect their academic studies with broader questions surrounding African knowledge and literature.
Visual: Mila Jordaan
PDBY spoke to Information Science Publishing student Lebo Hlakane, who attended the launch as part of an assignment for one of her modules. Hlakane said her biggest takeaway from the event was the importance of African universities prioritising the development of young scholars who can produce knowledge about Africa and share it with the rest of the world. “My biggest takeaway was that it is necessary and even more important for universities in Africa to prioritise the training of young individuals into scholars who are capable of producing knowledge about Africa and, as a result, sharing this knowledge about Africa with the rest of the world,” Hlakane said. Hlakane also reflected on why conversations around African literature remain important for university students today. “I think conversation about African literature is important for university students today because there is a very rich history that lies in African literature that African students need to be conscious of,” she said. She explained that engaging with this history can help students recognise how present-day issues are rooted in the histories from which African societies have emerged. Hlakane added that this awareness can encourage students to think about possible solutions through the different disciplines they currently study. “Only then can we begin to start finding solutions to these issues through the courses we currently study,” she said. The final segment of the launch shifted from scholarly discussion to a documentary exploring Ngũgĩ’s life and intellectual journey. The documentary was presented by Professor Ndirangu wa Wachanga and ran for approximately one hour and ten minutes. The documentary featured interviews and reflections connected to the reading of African novels and African literary traditions, including discussions around Chinua Achebe. It provided attendees with an opportunity to engage with Ngũgĩ beyond his written works and consider the experiences and intellectual influences that shaped his life and writing. For many Africans, English has become an adopted language, one we have had to learn because of its global use, while others have simply grown to love it. Yet, Ngũgĩ’s work reminds us to question the histories behind the languages we speak and the ways they shape our identity and knowledge. As the late Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o said, “English is not an African language; it is the language of the coloniser.” As we celebrate Heritage Month, let us not only reflect on our diversity, but also take time to celebrate our Africanness. The launch of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o in Context showed the importance of creating spaces where African voices, knowledge, languages and histories can be questioned, shared and celebrated. In doing so, we keep African conversations alive, ensuring that our past informs how we understand ourselves and the future we create.
19 October 2026
Advertisement | 5
6 | Features
19 October 2026
The Struggle Within The Struggle: Nkoli and The Birth of Queer Constitutional Rights By Buhle Jantjies
W
struggles were even related. hat does it actually take to engrave freedom into law? Nkoli disagreed, loudly and repeatedly. Speaking at South Not the freedom that sounds good in a politician’s Africa's first Pride march in Johannesburg in 1990, he told the speech, but the kind that has to survive the crowd: "I am Black, and I am gay. I cannot separate the two courtroom, public scrutiny and a country still parts of me into secondary or primary struggles." For him, there was no ranking system for oppression. arguing over who counts as human. For Simon Tseko Nkoli, it took everything he had. You didn't get to fight After the 1994 democratic racism today and homophobia some elections, South Africa became the first country in the world to other day. It was all one fight, or it write protection from sexualorientation discrimination was not a fight for directly into its Constitution. freedom at all. Other places had gay rights on That conviction ran through the books before then; none had everything he built. anchored them in founding law. It's a fact often mentioned in After his release, passing, tucked into a Pride Nkoli founded the Month post or a footnote. Gay and Lesbian Organisation of the But behind that clause was a man who fought two Witwatersrand, known as GLOW, battles at once and refused to be told he could only pick one. one of the first Simon Nkoli was already an Black-led queer anti-apartheid activist when he was arrested in 1984 and charged organisations in the country. According to with treason during the Delmas Trial, alongside 21 other activists. While awaiting trial, he came out as gay to his fellow accused, The Conversation, in "Simon Nkoli's fight for and it did not go smoothly at first. According to South African History Online, in its profile of Nkoli's life and queer rights in South Africa is finally being celebrated," Nkoli went on activism, some of his co-accused initially struggled to help push the African with the idea that a liberation movement should also Visual: Mila Jordaan make room for gay rights, unsure whether the two National Congress
Cosy Corner The Sun is Still Shining By Buhle Jantjies The sun is still shining behind the grey, even when clouds have swallowed the blue, even when nothing goes the right way, even when I don't know what to do. The sun is still shining past every storm, past every door that slammed in my face, past the cold nights that left me unwarm, past the mornings I lost in this race. I don't have it figured out, not even close; my hands are shaking, my plans keep breaking, but I get up anyway, I face what's the worst, because some quiet hope in me keeps waking. The sun is still shining on tomorrow's ground, on a version of me who finally made it, on the dreams I've buried but never drowned, on the version of hope I refuse to forfeit. I wake up not because I'm sure, not because the answers came at night, I wake up because I trust there's more, because somewhere ahead, there's light. The sun is still shining, even unseen, behind the grey, behind the rain, it hasn't left, it's just between today's ache and tomorrow's gain. So let the night stretch long and slow, let the questions sit without reply I'll rise again, because I know the sun is still shining, up in that sky.
toward including sexual orientation in its vision of equality, laying groundwork that would eventually shape the 1996 Constitution's equality clause. He also became one of the first openly HIV-positive gay Black men in Africa to speak publicly about his status. Back then, an HIV diagnosis read like a confession as much as a health condition, carrying risks to someone's job, family and safety, and for a Black gay man it meant another layer of stigma stacked on top of race and sexuality. Silence was safer for most, yet Nkoli chose visibility instead. He died in 1998, at 41, having spent much of his short life absorbing risks so others wouldn't have to. Nearly three decades on, it is fair to ask what "enshrined" has actually meant since. Section 9 of the Constitution, the equality clause, makes it unlawful for the state or individuals to discriminate against someone based on sexual orientation. According to research published in the International Journal of Transitional Justice on Oxford Academic, Nkoli's activism was central to embedding sexual orientation protections in South Africa's constitutional order, a legal first that legal scholars still study today. But a clause on paper doesn't guarantee safety practically. Black queer South Africans, particularly in townships and rural areas, still face violence no wording alone can undo. Nkoli understood that gap better than most. He was not fighting for a law that would let the country congratulate itself and move on, but for a country that would have to keep living up to what it had written down; that is the contrast between his vision and where South Africa still falls short, and why the fight isn't finished just because his name made a textbook. Continuing it means holding the country to the promise he helped write, and that is the real weight of his legacy.
Can The Church Make Space for its LGBTQ+ Members?
By Buhle Jantjies
F
or a lot of LGBTQ+ Christians, church doesn’t feel like two separate parts of life sitting comfortably side by side. It feels like a choice nobody should have to make: be honest about who you are or stay welcome in the community that raised your faith. Plenty of people end up doing both badly, quietly editing themselves every Sunday just to keep their seat in the pew. That uncomfortable duality sits at the core of a much larger question South African Christianity hasn’t fully answered yet: is there actually space for LGBTQ+ people in the church or just the appearance of space? For some congregations, the answer has been a clear yes. The Reforming Church in Pretoria, led by Pastor André Muller, was built specifically for gay Christians who’d been failed elsewhere, and getting there was not a smooth journey. It started in a gay club, then moved outdoors when that club shut down, with the then-small congregation meeting in a park for a while before finally finding somewhere permanent without much support from the wider Christian community along the way. That kind of instability sinks most new churches before they get anywhere, yet it did not sink this church. More than three decades later, it’s still one of the clearer Photo: Daniel Green examples of a church that stopped merely tolerating queer members and actually built itself around including them. But that full inclusion is still the exception, not the rule. According to The Conversation, genuine inclusion depends on far more than a friendly welcome at the door. It means leadership willing to speak publicly rather than staying silent, a church that doesn’t treat queerness as a problem that you
can “manage” and everyday choices such as who leads prayer or whose relationship gets acknowledged from the pulpit that backs the open-armed welcome instead of quietly shunning it out. Getting all of these to line up is a rare occurrence. More often, LGBTQ+ Christians describe something closer to conditional acceptance. You’re allowed in the building, but maybe not behind the pulpit. You’re tolerated, but your relationship stays unspoken. According to openDemocracy, in “African activists show how churches can make space for queer people,” activists across the African continent have described this exact pattern, a kind of welcome that only holds up if queer members agree to shrink themselves down. That gap, between what a denomination declares and what an individual actually experiences walking into their local church, is really the heart of this story. A national statement of affirmation doesn’t guarantee a warm welcome in a smalltown congregation still working through its own discomfort. Inclusion, it turns out, isn’t something a church can announce once and be done with. It has to be practised, repeatedly, at every level, from the pulpit down to the person sitting next to you in the pew. So where does that leave LGBTQ+ Christians right now? Somewhere in between, mostly. Progress is real in places like the Reforming Church, and real too in denominations formally shifting their stance. But for many LGBTQ+ believers, belonging still depends entirely on which door they happen to walk through on a Sunday morning and whether that door was ever really open to them in the first place.
19 October 2026
Features | 7
How We Imported American SocioPolitical Discourse
By Rona Disetlhe
“
Ha se mo States mo!” (This is not America) South African More recently, one can draw parallels between the U.S. netizens like to say when an unfamiliar topic dominates the Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s (ICE) “targeted arrests” discourse. earlier this year and South Africa’s March and March movement. The United States of America, as a global superpower, wields According to the U.S. government’s own description, ICE targets immense cultural influence. How the world dresses, public safety threats, including convicted criminals, undocumented speaks, thinks, creates and consumes media is aliens and gang members – people who have otherwise violated substantially shaped by American culture. U.S. immigration laws, including those who illegally reThe influence comes as a double-edged sword; entered the country after being removed and the same twang praised as intelligent can in the immigration fugitives ordered same breath be mocked if you “yo yo yo” too removed by federal immigration much. The same modern styles applied to judges. In contrast, the March traditional attire are called chic one moment and March Movement’s website and uncultured the next. describes it as a local movement Against this backdrop, American focused on illegal immigration, discourse doesn’t just influence South employment competition, and access African style; it can overshadow and to public services. While the two are reshape how South Africans discuss their own issues fundamentally different in structure and by filtering it through a Western lens informed by mandate, their impact is similar. AntiAmerica’s own history and social circumstances. immigration protests led to great violence That lens can empower the youth’s activism but and in some cases the death of some also distort local realities. According to the 2026 foreign nationals. Though not initiated Global Digital Report, 64.8% of South Africans by March and March, the movement use social media, meaning most people are triggered a special operation ahead of the directly exposed to American media and culture. movement’s 30 June deadline that cost A recent example is South Africa’s reaction to taxpayers R600 million for security the death of right-wing political activist Charlie around the demonstrations. In the Kirk. An event that should have had little bearing U.S., the city of Minneapolis estimates on South Africa, had Afrikaner activist and the total economic damage from ICE author Ernst Roets threatening to report anyone enforcement sweeps totaled nearly $700 who mocked the death of Charlie Kirk to their million, as reported by multiple media employers. In an interview with conservative outlets, including CBS News. political commentator Tucker Carlson, Kirk said Two very different countries arriving he does not want to live in South Africa, describing at costly aftermaths arising from comparable Visual: Amy Lamplough it as a country of resentment and bitterness where he logistics. That is the concern: South Africa has a would have to drive around in armoured cars and wouldn’t be able completely different history and social background that could make to leave his house after 10 pm. Despite that, the same man had a comparable instances much more dire in local circumstances. While number of South Africans rush to his defence and mourn his death. American discourse and language can provide tools for South The point is not to interrogate Kirk’s views, but to examine South Africans to express themselves, it can also blind us to the specific Africans’ adoption of American discourse over a story with no real historic and economic nuances of local issues. domestic stakes.
I nt e nt vs . Impa ct : Moving Beyon d Performat ive Su p p ort
By Thiya Kalan
W
hen non-LGBTQ+ people talk about queer relationships, outdated idioms often carry quiet biases. The phrase “who wears the breeches” was coined in the 1500s, reflecting a time when only men wore pants and were legally recognized as the head of the household. Centuries later, the phrasing has evolved into “who wears the pants in the relationship?” – a question historically used to identify which partner holds authority. Today, however, this gendered assumption is frequently pushed onto same-sex couples, exposing how easily heteronormative expectations are forced onto queer love. This phenomenon is backed by empirical research. A study presented at the American Sociological Association (ASA) revealed that when observing same-sex couples, the vast majority of heterosexual respondents automatically imposed "masculine" and "feminine" roles based on personal interests and earning power. If one partner enjoyed romantic comedies or shopping, respondents routinely branded them as "the woman" in the relationship – and subsequently expected them to handle stereotypically "feminine" household chores. As journalist Arwa Mahdawi noted in The Guardian, these assumptions reveal a pervasive cultural belief: that a relationship simply cannot function without a traditional malefemale power dynamic. In today's climate, these rigid structures are obsolete. Research consistently shows that same-sex couples actually share domestic responsibilities and childcare far more equally than heterosexual couples, rejecting traditional division of labour. We don't have to erase femininity or masculinity to recognize equality – expression is personal, not operational. But when we learn to view relationships outside our own preferences, we can finally stop worrying about who is "wearing the breeches." This tendency to force queer people into familiar, nonthreatening categories extends beyond romantic relationships. In social settings, it is remarkably common to hear non-gay women refer to a gay male friend as “one of the girls”, a “bestie”, or an automatic shopping partner. Just as lesbian relationships are flattened into masculine/feminine binaries, gay men are frequently subjected to a subtle form of erasure. While often intended as a gesture of warmth and inclusion, this dynamic carries an underlying bias rooted in femmephobia, a prejudice that trivializes feminine traits in men by treating a gay man's identity or expression as something existing purely for outside entertainment. These interactions reveal a fundamental flaw in modern allyship: the gap between intent and impact. Intent centres the person taking
the action: “I didn’t mean to offend anyone” or “I said it out of love!” Impact centres the person receiving it: “This comment flattens my identity and reduces me to a stereotype.” Well-meaning allies often hide behind good intentions to avoid the discomfort of self-correction. However, a lack of malicious intent does not erase a harmful effect. When allyship prioritises the supporter’s intentions over the community’s lived reality, it ceases to be supportive. It becomes performative. This same dynamic plays out on a broader, institutional scale every June. Corporate logos transform into rainbow gradients, social media feeds fill with celebratory posts and brands launch limited-edition merchandise. The intent is presented as celebratory and progressive. But when July arrives and the flags are put away, LGBTQ+ people are left navigating the same casual assumptions, microaggressions and structural barriers. A rainbow logo has little impact if workplace policies, social circles and everyday conversations still demand that queer people conform to heteronormative expectations. Visibility is meaningful, but only when it is supported by sustained action. Transforming good intentions into meaningful impact requires deliberate, daily practice. For non-LGBTQ+ readers looking to bridge this gap, actionable allyship comes down to three core shifts: Interrupt casual assumptions: When you hear someone ask a queer couple “who wears the pants” or classify a gay man as “one of the girls”, gently challenge or redirect the framing. Normalising relationships and identities outside the heterosexual binary starts in informal, everyday conversations. Accept feedback without becoming defensive: If a queer person points out that a phrase or assumption was harmful, resist the urge to explain your good intentions. Acknowledge the impact, thank them for offering their perspective and adjust your behaviour moving forward. Advocate beyond visual signs: Meaningful allyship pushes for concrete structural inclusion. This includes advocating for clear non-discrimination policies, gender-inclusive administrative forms, equal parental leave and genuinely safe environments in workplaces and social groups. Rainbow symbols have value only when they are backed by consistent action and everyday respect for queer people and relationships as they are. Ultimately, allyship is not measured by how supportive someone intends to appear, but by whether queer people genuinely feel heard, respected and safe.
Welcome to the internet, where somehow everything's about you Gabriella van Niekerk
S
omeone posts a video about their experience of something. Nothing particularly controversial. Nothing directed at you. Nothing requiring your immediate intervention. Yet, somehow, within five minutes, the comments have become a town hall meeting about why the video does not represent you. “Okay, but what about people who…?” “I don’t actually like beans.” “Why isn’t there an option for…?” “But this is not my experience…” Welcome to the internet; have a look around. Specifically, let us look at the bean soup theory. As explained by MerriamWebster, the phrase comes from a viral TikTok about bean soup. The original creator shared a recipe and commenters began explaining that they did not like beans and asking for alternatives. The recipe was not aimed at people who hate beans. Nevertheless, the comments apparently needed to establish that fact. This is not about soup. It is about our increasingly powerful instinct to make everything about ourselves. A post can be about one person's experience, a particular cultural group, a niche hobby or an incredibly specific situation, and somewhere in the comments someone will inevitably arrive to announce that it does not apply to them. The phenomenon taps into a broader issue of context collapse, which is the digital phenomenon where distinct social circles, audiences and personal identities merge into one single, flattened communication space. As Encyclopedia.pub explains in its discussion of social media and context collapse, online platforms bring audiences together that would ordinarily exist separately. The result is that something intended for one group can suddenly be consumed by everyone from your closest friends to complete strangers. Suddenly, a conversation that was never yours feels like one you need to have an opinion on. We want to see ourselves represented. We want to feel included. Social media has also trained us to constantly ask where we fit: Do I look like this person? Do I agree with them? Does this apply to me? Would I do the same thing? The problem is when the answer is “no,” and we treat that as an issue with the content rather than simply accepting that it was never made for us. As highlighted in the piece written for the site Medium, Remember the Bean Soup Theory? Well, Here Is My Take, the phenomenon highlights how easily we centre ourselves in conversations that were never actually centred on us. This is one of the stranger consequences of having our own personalised little corners of the internet. Algorithms give us content based on what we like, what we watch and what we engage with. We are constantly shown things that are supposedly for us. Eventually, we start expecting everything to be tailored to us, but not everything has to be. Someone else’s experience does not become any less valid simply because it is not our own. A video made for one group does not need to make room for every other group, just as a story does not need to contain every possible perspective before it is allowed to be told. Maybe we have become so accustomed to seeing ourselves reflected in everything that we have forgotten that not everything is meant to reflect us. Sometimes, something can simply belong to someone else. We can listen without inserting ourselves, recognise that an experience exists without making it our own and let a story remain where it began. Not everything needs our opinion. Not everything needs our correction. Sometimes, we can simply keep scrolling.
Photo: Daniel Green
8 | Entertainment
19 October 2026
More than j Lentedag br students By Cayden Coetzer and Lydia la Grange
U
nder the spring sun at the Pretoria National Botanical Gardens, thousands of festivalgoers gathered on 16 September for the 24th edition of Lentedag – a day where live music, friendship and student culture collided. With four stages, multiple artists, food vendors, drinks stations, games and activities spread across the venue, Lentedag 2026 offered far more than a series of performances. For many students, however, the music was only part of the attraction. For first-time attendee Melissa, 20, the festival was something she had wanted to experience for years. She had previously struggled to attend with her friends, but this year the group finally managed to make it happen. “I thought it was basically just going to be people drinking and watching music,” Melissa said. “But there’s actually a lot more going on. It feels more like a whole experience than just a concert.” Her favourite part was not a particular performance, but the atmosphere around her. “Everyone seems to be in a good mood,” she said. Melissa’s experience reflects what makes an event like Lentedag particularly significant within student culture. While the lineup gives people a reason to buy a ticket, the promise of spending an entire day with friends is what turns the festival into an experience. After attending for the first time, Melissa said she would return next year – and would likely arrive earlier to make a full day of it. That social element was echoed by returning attendee Henry, 22, who was attending his third Lentedag. For Henry, the festival has gradually become an annual tradition with his friends. While he feels the event gets bigger every year, with increasing crowds and more artists, he said its identity remains familiar. “I think the student atmosphere,” he said when asked what separates Lentedag from other festivals. “Lentedag feels very Pretoria and very student-focused. You’re basically guaranteed to bump into someone you know.” That familiarity has become part of the festival’s identity. Rather than being an event attended once and forgotten, Lentedag has become something that groups of friends return to each year. Henry said that his group started attending together a few years ago, and the festival has since become almost a tradition. Even between performances, he said, some of the best moments came from simply spending time with friends.
Photo: Mpho Mahlangu
Behind the festival
While thousands of attendees spent the day enjoying the performances, another group experienced Lentedag from a very different perspective: the people working behind the scenes. For vendors and staff, the festival was not simply a day of entertainment. It was a working day – one that began long before many festivalgoers arrived and continued as the crowds moved through the venue. For one first-time bar worker, the experience offered an unexpected perspective on an event she had never previously attended. “I think this is the experience I actually wanted more than actually attending the event itself,” she said. The worker admitted that Lentedag itself was not necessarily her preferred type of event, but working at the festival allowed her to experience the atmosphere while also earning money. “I was here for free and I made money,” she joked. The biggest challenge was the heat. Working under gazebos for long periods made the conditions particularly uncomfortable, but she said staff were looked after throughout the day. Workers received food and water, while her manager allowed her to sit down when she became dizzy. “They do take care of you,” she said. Another first-time worker described the experience as an opportunity to step outside her comfort zone and interact with people. For workers who spend the day serving customers rather than standing in front of the stages, the festival offers a completely different experience. They still hear the music and experience the atmosphere, but their attention remains focused on the people moving through the venue. One worker said that interacting with customers and being surrounded by people throughout the day was challenging at times, particularly because of the length of the shift. Despite this, the opportunity to experience an event of this scale from behind the scenes provided a different perspective on what goes into making Lentedag possible.
Keeping the cro
While the majority of festivalgoers were there to enjoy t had a different responsibility: ensuring that the day rema and the event progressed. One security guard explained that the workload change The morning was relatively quiet, but as more people a The most difficult period, he said, came towards the en began leaving. Some attendees were intoxicated, while others reporte injuries. On the day, however, he said security had not experi incidents. One of the main issues involved heavily intoxicated at Medical personnel were present, and people who we were not allowed to enter or were directed out of the even For security, the job therefore extended beyond sim meant dealing with lost property, injuries, intoxication an of people through the venue. A security guard mentione was showing people where to go for the bus versus the leaving the festival, so no one got lost. The security guard said the nature of the job could cha day. The arrival of more people created one set of chall festivalgoers created another, particularly when people h That less visible work formed an important part of t attendees could focus on the music and their friends, responsible for managing the crowd and responding whe
19 October 2026
Entertainment | 9
just a day out: rings Pretoria s together
owd safe
hemselves, security personnel ained safe as the crowds grew
ed throughout the day. rrived, the demands increased. nd of the event, when people
d lost or stolen belongings or
enced significant theft-related
endees. re considered too intoxicated nt. ply monitoring the crowd. It d the movement of thousands d an important part of his job ir own transport as they were
nge depending on the time of enges, while the departure of ad been drinking. he festival experience. While security personnel remained n things went wrong.
More than just a festival for vendors
For the businesses operating inside the festival, Lentedag represents more than simply a place to sell products. It is also an opportunity to introduce businesses to thousands of potential customers. Rockio Clothing, which operates both online and from a shop at Ferndale Village Shopping Centre, returned to Lentedag for its second year. Unlike the attendees who purchase a ticket and arrive on the day, vendors have to go through a separate process before they can set up. According to the Rockio Clothing vendor, businesses first have to make contact with the event organisers and provide information about who they are and what they offer. If accepted, vendors pay for their trading space and are then responsible for bringing the stock and staff required to operate throughout the event. For the vendor, the process begins with businesses finding out about the event and approaching the organisers themselves. “Once you get invited, then you pay for your store and that’s how you get in,” the vendor explained. From there, the responsibility shifts to the individual business to make the most of its space. The vendor said Lentedag’s organisers provided the infrastructure and support needed to trade, while vendors were responsible for ensuring that they had sufficient stock and staff to serve customers. “You have to have the stock. You have to have the people so you can do your service,” he said. Having previously attended a number of festivals as a vendor, he said the quality of the organisation can make a significant difference to businesses working at an event. His experience at Lentedag was positive, particularly when it came to the infrastructure and precautions in place for vendors and attendees. “These organisers are very, very professional,” he said. “They provide the right things for us to trade.” The vendor also compared Lentedag with other festivals where his business has operated. While many events provide spaces for vendors, he said the quality of the overall setup can differ significantly. Facilities such as toilets and general infrastructure can become a problem at large events, particularly when organisers underestimate the number of people attending. Although queues were still present at Lentedag, he said the festival compared favourably with some of the other events at which he had traded. For him, the difference came down to organisation. “They are very different to other organisers. They’re very professional,” he said. The vendor estimated that between 10 000 and 12 000 people were at the festival, although this was his own estimate rather than an official attendance figure. After returning for a second year, he said there had not been a dramatic change from the previous edition in terms of the overall experience. “It’s the same. I wouldn’t say there’s much difference,” he said. However, he acknowledged that organisers may have changed aspects of the layout and setup behind the scenes. For Rockio Clothing, the appeal of Lentedag is also connected to the people it attracts. Describing the young festivalgoers as “beautiful youngsters” and “our future”, the vendor said the large student crowd created an environment that was valuable for businesses wanting to engage directly with younger customers. Rockio Clothing’s own identity also fits naturally into the festival environment, operating around the motto “peace, love, and rock and roll”. For vendors like Rockio Clothing, then, the festival is not simply something happening around them. It is a temporary marketplace, networking opportunity and chance to engage directly with a large student audience who otherwise might not have heard of their store
Photo: Mpho Mahlangu
A Pretoria tradition
By the end of the day, Lentedag had once again demonstrated why it has remained a fixture in Pretoria’s spring calendar. For first-time attendees such as Melissa, it was an introduction to a festival that was bigger than expected. For returning attendees such as Henry, it was another chapter in an annual tradition. For Kayla and her friends, it was a temporary escape from lectures, assignments and the routine of university life. And for the people working behind the scenes, it was a long day of serving, selling, securing and supporting the crowds that make the festival possible. The four stages and headline performances may have provided the soundtrack, but the people moving between them provided much of the festival’s character. From the friends trying to find one another in a crowd, to the vendor trying to keep up with customers, to the worker taking a moment to recover from the heat, to the security guard managing the final wave of festivalgoers, Lentedag was experienced differently depending on which side of the barrier you stood. Yet all of them were part of the same event. And perhaps that is what makes Lentedag more than simply another festival on the student calendar. It is the music and the artists, but it is also the group of friends finally finding one another in a crowd. It is the returning student who has made the event an annual tradition. It is the first-time attendee discovering that there is more to the festival than expected. It is the vendor selling to a new customer, the bar worker dancing behind the counter and the security guard watching over the crowd. As Kayla put it, there was perhaps only one word that could capture the experience. “Chaotic,” she said with a laugh. “But in a good way.”
10 | Entertainment
19 October 2026
Girls Just Wanna Have Blood Milan Govender
O
relation to the man. Fundamentally, you either nce upon a time, women were given one had to be morally pure, sexually punished or role in the genre of horror: survive. She psychologically destroyed. would run through a dark forest, tripping Historically, horror has relished in punishing over an all-too-visible branch and shriek a tragic women, but Scream flipped that script. Horror “NOOO!!” Then, either die a bloody, gory death tortures girls for literally anything, from wanting or barely survive from an unrealistically lucky to have sex to having a personality. In Scream, series of events. But the tables are turning and Sidney does not behave like the traditional, the writers are talking. Women are evolving from helpless girl in horror. While Ghostface is just being merely in horror into becoming a walking stereotype of every horror cliche horror, and guess who’s ever, Sidney defies traditional horror and frightened? The patriarchy. does what she needs to, intelligently and From Scream to Mia Goth’s forcefully, to survive. X trilogy, from Dani in Now, women do not merely Midsommar and Annie in defeat the monster, they become Hereditary to Elisabeth the monster. Mia Goth’s X trilogy Sparkle in The Substance, depicts aging, sexuality and female contemporary horror has visibility as literal horror. Pearl is metamorphosed women’s terrifying, but also tragic – a woman bodies, anger, ageing, taught that youth and beauty is her sexuality, grief and desire into only source of value and it comes the actual source material of terror, with a fast-approaching expiration painting the raw realities of what date. Hereditary makes motherhood patriarchy, misogyny and blatant messy and imperfect (which it is), dehumanisation does to women. Such is Midsommar makes an example seen in the new film, Obsession, with Inde of a suckish boyfriend, and The Navarrette’s performance of the disturbing Substance takes the pervasive Nikki, who becomes obsessed with a guy after Visual: Gabriella le Roux pressure to stay young, pretty he wishes for her love. However, on a deeper and desirable and turns it into a level, the film comments on how patriarchy biological crime scene. and its agents shamelessly override women’s Yes, women deserve to be vile, disturbing, autonomy and independent thought while putting enraged, and bloodthirsty, because the acts they “Be careful what you wish for” into perspective, commit are not the real horror. The real horror as what a supposedly desirable woman has to is the patriarchy stripping them of dignity, be is sanitised, seized and supplemented. Dire independence, autonomy and the right to exist. consequences, but nonetheless you deserved Contemporary horror paints women as angry, it, Bear. The real horror was his willingness to ambitious, sexual, grieving, ageing, complicated control her mind, heart and body. – and sometimes completely unhinged while Modern horror has undergone a change from recognising that the real scare is the societal the woman as a screaming victim to a walking enforcement of gender roles and beauty standards. problem. Previously, women in horror were put The real terror is the misogynistic abuse and into an iron maiden box: the virgin, the slut, the violence against women. This is just their very hysterical mother, the dead girlfriend. Notice how valid, very warranted reaction. all these categories are defined by the woman’s
Computa, Give Me a Man Made of Wicker: Why Women Are Choosing Anything But Men
Melissa Aitchison
E
ver wanted a husband made of wicker? Watched Wicked: For Good and thought, "smash," when Fiyero became the Scarecrow? If so, you are certainly not alone. The internet has developed a growing fascination with fictional men who are not quite human. From vampires and werewolves to magical husbands and even wild animals, women are increasingly joking about choosing fantasy creatures over actual men. What sounds like a strange internet trend may reveal something more serious about how women perceive modern masculinity. The upcoming film Wicker, starring Olivia Colman, provides an entertaining example of this phenomenon. Based on Ursula Wills-Jones's short story The Wicker Husband, the film follows an ostracised fisherwoman who commissions a husband made entirely from wicker. When her creation comes to life, their relationship challenges the expectations of the conservative village around them. At first glance, the premise sounds ridiculous. A woman ordering a husband from a basketmaker is hardly conventional romance. Yet the trailer has sparked online fascination, partly because the wicker husband represents something many women find appealing in fantasy: a partner created specifically for them. There is something revealing about choosing a fictional creature over a real man. A magical wicker husband cannot arrive with years of emotional baggage disguised as personality. He cannot weaponize incompetence, send mixed signals or expect someone else to manage his emotional needs. He is literally made to be a partner. This fantasy is not necessarily about finding the perfect man. It may instead reflect exhaustion with the emotional labour and uncertainty that can accompany modern relationships. This becomes clearer when considering the viral "man or bear" debate. In 2024, women were asked whether they would rather be alone in a forest
with a random man or a bear. Many chose the bear, sparking widespread discussion and outrage online. The question was never really about believing bears are harmless. It was about the predictability of danger. A bear is dangerous, but its behaviour is relatively straightforward. A woman encountering one knows what she is dealing with. A strange man, however, may appear friendly while presenting an entirely different kind of threat. The anger directed at women for choosing the bear arguably proved the point. Rather than asking why women might feel unsafe around men, some men responded by insisting that women were irrational. Others focused on explaining why bears are dangerous, missing the larger conversation about trust, safety and women's experiences. This is where Wicker becomes more interesting than its unusual premise suggests. The wicker husband represents an alternative to traditional masculinity. He is physically unusual and fundamentally different from the men around him. Yet his difference becomes part of his appeal. The relationship exists outside the expectations of the village and traditional romance. This may also explain the continued popularity of supernatural love interests. Fictional creatures allow audiences to explore relationships without accepting the limitations often placed on real-world masculinity. The monster may be dangerous, but at least the audience knows what he is. Of course, wicker husbands and bears have their own problems. A wicker man could catch fire. A bear could kill you. Fictional romance is not necessarily better than real life. But that is not really the point. The popularity of these alternatives reveals something about women's frustrations with romance and masculinity. Women may not actually want bears or magical husbands. They may simply be asking why relationships with real men so often feel more exhausting than they should.
“Perhaps the real fantasy is not finding the perfect man. Perhaps it is finding someone who feels safe, predictable and worth the effort. Even if that someone happens to be made of wicker.”
Bodies: Breathing Canvases
By Kopanyi Ramokgopa
O
ur bodies have always been more than just vessels that try to keep us alive and healthy; they act as sites for creativity, cultural identity and aesthetic expression. In Africa, body modifications such as scarification, earlobe stretching, lip plates and teeth removals transform us into sentient artworks that tell our stories before we utter a word. Scarification is a process in which a piece of skin is pulled up using a thorn or hook, and the raised skin is then sliced or cut to create a wound. The fresh wound is then irritated by rubbing ash or charcoal on it over time, so the skin can heal by forming keloids. The Nuba people of Sudan use this method to signify milestones in a woman’s life. At puberty, they are marked on their chests, forehead and abdomen. When they first start menstruating, they receive additional marks under their breasts, and after bearing and weaning their first child, their final markings are etched on their sternum, back, buttocks, neck, and legs. Beyond milestone indicators, these geometric scars are also used for healing and protection; scars above the eyes are believed to sharpen vision, and those on the temples ease headaches. The Maasai group from some parts of Kenya and Tanzania mainly focus their bodily modifications on one part of their body, the ear. Enkipea (earlobe piercing) and earlobe stretching signal a person’s social rank and maturity. The size and length of the lobes symbolise life experience, meaning elders in the community have the most elongated and dramatic earlobes, as they possess the most knowledge. For women specifically, stretched earlobes become a canvas for heavy, elaborate beaded leather flaps draping down their shoulders called Enkarewa. The heaviness of this jewellery further stretches their ears and
acts as a marker for their lineage, social and marital status. In Ethiopia, the women of the Suri and Mursi tribes (collectively known as the Surma tribe) wear lip plates called dhebi a tugoin, symbols of beauty, fertility and marriage eligibility. Girls usually begin the process of getting one in their teens, and it is believed by some that it can influence a woman’s dowry (though there is no consensus on this). The Surma women take pride in the creation of their lip plates; they include colourful decorative patterns and embellishments, showing how this practice holds both cultural and aesthetic value. The passion gap (also known as the Cape Flats smile) is a form of dental modification practised by some members of the Coloured community in South Africa. It involves purposely removing healthy front teeth as either a rite of passage, a symbol of social status among peer groups or simply a fashion statement. This practice has been around for over 60 years, and it has historically functioned as a way for the youth to assert control over their bodies and to signify strength, independence and acceptance into the community’s street culture. The passion gap also allows for people to wear dentures locally known as valstanne. These dentures are also modified with gold caps and diamonds to display personal styles. These different cultures from all over Africa illustrate the dynamic nature of our bodies, as they act as locations where our cultural identities and individual expressions coexist; different modifications signal healing, rites of passage, wisdom, survival, beauty and personal style. Ultimately, body art proves to us that creativity does not only exist in text or canvasses but on the human being themselves.
Trick Or Treat: America is at the Door Zizo Mtshemla
I
f you asked any South African about Halloween culture for centuries. Much effort has been put into 10 years ago, you would either be met with a creating a global space to export American media, disgruntled answer about it being “an American technology and economic influence to the rest of the thing” or something “demonic”. Now, many around world. Most importantly, many technological tools the country go all-out for the holiday. But how did such as the internet, TV broadcasting and personal we get here? computers are mediums for American influence, Halloween hails from Central and Western offering them the ability to control the default Europe where an ancient Celtic festival, Samhain, channels of media communication throughout the was celebrated. The Celts celebrated their new world. year on the 1st of November. This was to usher in South Africa, as a result, stood no chance in not the beginning of a harsh winter – a time that they being influenced by American culture. Despite only associated with human death. According to History. operating in South Africa and other sub-Saharan com, the Celts were of the belief that “the boundary African countries, the satellite and streaming between the worlds of the living and the dead provider, DStv, offers dozens of American and became blurred” on the new year’s eve. On that European channels, most of which we grew up night they would celebrate Samhain, which is when on, such as Cartoon Network, Disney Channel or the ghosts of the dead returned to the living realm. TLC. Thus it is no wonder we become completely History.com goes on to detail that Celtic priests immersed in American pop culture. Due to would gather around bonfires to burn crops economic constraints, South Africa does not have as and animals as a sacrifice to their deities. established a media industry as the USA, especially They did this whilst wearing costumes for media targeted towards children and teenagers. made of animal heads and skins. Further This is exactly how American culture slithers its along the timeline, growing Christian way into our everyday lives. influence in the Celtic lands resulted We grew up watching countless Halloweenin the celebration of All Soul’s Day themed episodes and movies. It is no surprise that on the 2nd of November to honour we have become connected to the holiday as the dead and replace Samhain with though it is one of our a “church-approved observance.” own. The continued All Soul’s Day was celebrated hold that Western culture with bonfires, costume dresshas on the Global South ups as saints, angels and points to a still lacking devils. It is then noted that local culture of this day was also called Allmedia creation and Hallowmas and the night influence on global Visual: Gabriella le Roux before it, All-Hallows Eve – which then broadcasting channels. became Halloween. But we should not focus on the negatives only, The main reason Halloween became a global pop right? Like the children connecting over “67” culture phenomenon mostly boils down to its large through the video portals despite being from hold on American media and society. While being different countries, having a holiday that many all a European invention, Halloween grew in America over the world celebrate shows that we aren’t all as a result of European migration to the Americas. that different. We all crave community and reasons And in the 19th century, Halloween began to to celebrate. In Hatfield alone, thousands of us move into a holiday about community and parties spook-ify the streets with elaborate costumes, and instead of ghosts and witchcraft, with seasonal that is not set to change this year. So, start planning foods such as pumpkins becoming a holiday focus. that costume because Halloween falls on a Saturday This brings us to the rest of the world. The USA’s this year! popular culture has been synonymous with global
19 October 2026
Entertainment | 11
The Rainbow above The anTiapaRTheid MoveMenT Zizo Mtshemla
O
ctober sees the celebration of South Africa’s Pride Month. This is to commemorate the first Pride March held in both the country and the continent. When discussing liberation efforts, many activists have expressed the importance of focusing on intersectionality. In SA, the fight against racial discrimination was as important as the fight against that of discrimination against gender and sexuality. The Apartheid regime was not kind to the queer community. South African History Online details that under the National Party, homosexuality was a crime punishable by several years in prison. The party’s main fear of racial intermixing made them nervous about what they thought to be the “grey areas” of sexuality transgressions. Most infamously, a 1969 amendment to the Sexual Offences Act of 1957 criminalised men who engaged in any form of sexual conduct when more than two people were present; this was used to outlaw LGBTQ+ events and placed a target on the backs of gay men. As a result of this policing, SA’s queer community found innovative ways to assert Photo: Sourced themselves. This led to the birth of a pseudolanguage called “Gayle” or “Moffietaal”. It is made up of a mix of Afrikaans and English with the use of popular women’s names as code words for activities that were illegal to discuss openly. While there is contention over its origins, with some debating that it was born out of prison, it is widely accepted that it came from the Coloured gay community of District 6 in Cape Town. It acted as a code for the LGBTQ+ community to communicate openly without detection under the government and social duress that they were under. It offered them protection especially in heterosexual or other spaces that put their safety at risk. For example, Betty Bangles referred to the police. The lesbian community was also recognised for developing their own variation of Gayle named “Lettytaal”. This is a testament to both the difficulty that the queer
community faced whilst living under the Apartheid regime and their creativity in still creating identity and community for themselves despite it all. Gay activist Simon Nkoli stands as one of the most respected figures in the intersecting fights against homophobia and racism in Apartheid South Africa. After being in the predominantly white Gay Association of South Africa, that ironically claimed to be apolitical, he founded the Gay and Lesbian Organisation of the Witwatersrand (GLOW). The organisation aimed to create a “non-homophobic, non-racist and non-sexist” space for the queer community in Johannesburg. GLOW would go on to organise Africa’s first Pride March in Braamfontein. The Pride March occurred on 13 October 1990. Despite still being under Apartheid, 800 people marched through Johannesburg. Many did this while wearing masks and paper bags over their heads to prevent being identified or targeted by the Apartheid regime. Nkoli firmly believed in the importance of a parallel, intersectional fight against Apartheid. Before the march, he was quoted saying: “I am Black and I am gay. I cannot separate the two parts into secondary and primary struggles. In South Africa, I am oppressed because I am a Black man and I am oppressed because I am gay. So, when I fight for my freedom I must fight against both oppressors. All those who believe in a democratic South Africa must fight against all oppression, all intolerance, all injustice.” His efforts were also instrumental in getting the ANC to acknowledge and publicly support gay rights in the South African constitution. Pride was an integral, yet underrated, thread that ran through the Anti-Apartheid Movement. SA’s Pride Month is important to continue honouring and creating discussions around the still socially ostracised queer community in both our country and continent. This month honours those who have been lost, the beauty of the community and the continued fight for social acceptance. As American civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer said: “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.”
The Coffin is made of Glass
Melissa Aitchison
V
ampires have always been a little bit gay. This isn't a hot take, it's literary history. Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla from 1872 was a sapphic love story written before the word “lesbian” was widely used. Bram Stoker's Dracula from 1897 was published shortly after the Oscar Wilde trials. The novel reflects a period of intense societal panic regarding "degeneracy" and hidden same-sex desires. Queer writers have long used the vampire as a disguise, a way to explore desires that could not be spoken about openly without risking everything. AMC's Interview with the Vampire took the subtext and brought it out into the open. The story, however, isn't just about “gay vampires”. It uses vampirism to explore what it means to be seen as different. The vampire is a creature that lives in the shadows, hides its true nature, fears being discovered and desperately wants to be invited in. As far as metaphors go, it's almost too perfect for queerness. Vampires also exist outside of human time. They do not reproduce in conventional ways and create their own families, their own rules and their own ways of living. This is why vampires have often represented people society labels as “other”. However, queerness has been one of the most obvious readings throughout the last three centuries. AMC's adaptation makes this connection impossible to miss. Louis du Pointe du Lac is not just a vampire. He is a Black gay man living in 1910s New Orleans. He is already treated as an outsider because of his race and his sexuality before he becomes a monster. He struggles with two things he cannot change: being a vampire and loving Lestat. He tries to hide and control both. He refuses to drink human blood, treating vampirism almost like an addiction he can overcome if he just tries hard enough. At the same time, he keeps his relationship with Lestat hidden because being openly gay was dangerous at the time. His queerness and vampirism become two parts of himself that he feels forced to conceal, leaving him isolated from both his family and the life he once knew. What makes Louis’ struggle so devastating is that his denial of vampirism and his denial of queerness are mirrors to the same problem. He tries to remain human by rejecting the blood, even though the blood is what sustains him. This becomes especially clear when his refusal to drink blood starts affecting his relationship with Lestat. Without enough blood in his body, Louis has no energy and becomes physically weak. His lack of blood
leaves him unable to fully participate in intimacy, turning his struggle with vampirism into a physical reflection of his struggle to accept his sexuality. Many queer people grow up learning to see their desires as something to manage, hide or cure. Louis takes this feeling and manifests it physically. His body weakens because he refuses to give it what it needs. His shame does not make him noble. It makes him miserable and hurts the people who love him. On the opposite end of the scale, Lestat de Lioncourt has never pretended to be anything other than what he is. He is theatrical, vain and completely unapologetic. Where Louis sees vampirism as a curse, Lestat sees it as a promotion. Why would anybody want to be human? Humans are boring. Humans die. It is easy for Lestat to be unapologetic though. He is a white man, and a wealthy French aristocrat at that. He has never had to make himself small in the same way Louis has. Lestat’s queerness and vampirism make him different, but his privilege gives him more freedom to be loud and visible. What Lestat offers Louis is a different way of living. He doesn't just want to be accepted, he wants to be adored. He doesn't want tolerance on society's terms, he wants to rewrite these terms entirely. This becomes even more interesting in the Vampire Lestat release in 2026, where Lestat becomes a public rockstar. By putting himself on stage, the show allows him to turn his difference into something visible and powerful. He is not hiding in the shadows. He's making himself impossible to ignore. But even embracing who you are does not make the danger disappear. Vampires still need a community – not just physically, but emotionally as well. This feels familiar to queer audiences. Representation in community can offer recognition and belonging, especially for people who have been made to feel isolated by society. The Stonewall Uprising of 1969 showed how visibility and resistance could become powerful forms of community. Yet visibility alone is not liberation. Louis spent decades hiding and wallowing in misery. Lestat refused to hide and became a target. Neither approach offers an easy answer. This is what makes these shows so compelling. They do not present queerness as a single experience or vampirism as a simple metaphor for being different. Instead, they show how identity, shame, privilege, desire and survival all intersect. This Halloween, maybe the bravest thing a vampire can do is come out of the coffin.
12 | Entertainment
19 October 2026
Bridging Borders, One At A Time: The OVUWA Heritage Day concert: A Celebration of European Film Festival Returns Cultural Diversity By Buhle Jantjies
C
inema has a strange way of making the world feel smaller. For ten days this September, that is the goal of the European Film Festival South Africa, which lands in Johannesburg, Cape Town, Durban, and Pretoria from 17 to 27 September, bringing with it twelve films from twelve countries and a theme that hits closer to home than you'd expect: family. Now in its 13th year and produced by the Encounters South African International Documentary Festival, the festival has built a reputation as something more than a showcase of subtitled arthouse films for the culturally curious. It is a cultural exchange dressed up as a night out at the cinema. This year's line-up draws from Belgium, Denmark, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, the Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Ukraine and the UK, with Ukraine's entry made possible through backing from Austria, Flanders, the EU and the UK. "Family" as a theme is not a soft one. It is family in all its complicated, unglamorous forms, which are biological, broken, chosen, rebuilding. You'll find it in the festival's opener, The Last Viking, a blackly comic Danish crime caper starring Mads Mikkelsen as one of two brothers untangling old secrets. You will find it further in Fatherland, director Paweł Pawlikowski's Cold War-set road trip between a German father and daughter, and in My Father's Shadow, the BAFTA-winning debut following a dad and his two sons through Lagos on the eve of political upheaval. Spain brings Javier Bardem in The Beloved, the Netherlands offers A Family with Carice van Houten, Poland enters with Agnieszka Holland's Franz, Ireland with Christy, Portugal with Aquí, loosely based on J.M. Coetzee's Jesus trilogy, of all things, and Italy rounds the festival out with Paolo Sorrentino's La Grazia. Ukraine's Porcelain War and France's Colours of Time fill out the twelve. But if one film carries the theme on its shoulders, it is Belgium's Young Mothers, which the PDBY had the privilege of viewing. Filmed inside an actual home for young, single mothers, the
movie doesn't dramatise teenage pregnancy so much as sit with it, refusing easy judgement, showing the women behind the label instead. Speaking at the screening, a representative from the Belgian embassy explained why the film mattered enough to bring across the world. Young mothers, he stated, are too often reduced to hardship and shame, whether in Belgium, elsewhere in Europe or here in South Africa. Young Mothers asks audiences to look past the stereotype and see the person – someone still trying to build a future for herself and her child against odds that would break most people. He put it simply: the festival works like a bridge. Distance does not erase the fact that we are all carrying versions of the same stories. That is the whole spirit of the event in one line. There is something quietly comforting about sitting in a dark room with strangers, watching a mother in Belgium or a father and son in Lagos wrestle with the same messy, ordinary love that shows up in every home, everywhere. Young Mothers says it loudly: behind every label we hand people, there is someone doing their best with what they have got. You do not need to speak French or Flemish to feel that, you just need to show up.
Atanda Ntlantsana
T
he lunch hour concerts are not enough, and when the OVUWA cultural ensemble announced their Heritage Day Celebration Concert, University of Pretoria students, alumni and many more made sure to be there. PDBY was lucky enough to sit in the front row at the breathtaking celebration of culture. Heritage Day is a beautiful holiday which allows South Africans to celebrate our diversity and express pride in our cultural heritage – a privilege which many South Africans did not always have. When asked about the significance of Heritage Day, Andile Mathe, UP’s 2026 SRC head of Transformation and Student Success, explained that this is a day where we are finally able to celebrate South Africa and celebrate that, as diverse as we are, South Africans are a collective of people from various cultures who share one common goal on one land. He stated that events like OVUWA’s heritage celebration are a reminder that we have not lost our roots. This is a very true sentiment. Celebration of one's cultural identity is a key part of the transformative goals of South Africa as a nation. Even before the Aula doors opened, the campus was covered in audience members dressed proudly in their cultural attire, eager to see what the ensemble had to bring – and they did not disappoint. What was most beautiful about OVUWA’s performance was the performers. Their cultural pride shone through their bright smiles as they provided a spectacular experience. In a time where hatred seems so prevalent, such a passionate expression of our diversity evokes pride so strong you have to cheer, ululate and sing along. Through the Heritage Day celebration, OVUWA provided visibility for and recognition of the rich cultures which form South Africa. OVUWA Chairperson and Ensemble Well-being Logistics Officer, Masego Christopher Mahlangu, described the ensemble as “a tool for remembrance, preservation and celebration”. This highlights that the ensemble’s mission is more than just to entertain. This celebration showcased the beauty of South African diversity and its indigenous cultures. At the end of the celebration, OVUWA’s Conductor and Logistics Coordinator, Mxolisi Manamela, reminded us of the ageold saying “I am Because You are” – umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu. This is what Heritage Day is about – being proud of our cultural identity, the community and history which have made us who we are.
Photo: Anita Solarin
By Kopanyi Ramokgopa
M
Is Everything Moja kwa Moja Love?
oja Love has positioned itself as a television channel that portrays life in Mzansi in its “most authentic and unfiltered form”. Launched on Valentine’s Day in 2018, it has steadily gained and maintained popularity as one of DStv’s most popular channels. That being said, it has generated a lot of discourse amongst viewers, with some being fans of the channel and others finding some of the shows aired problematic. Supporters of Moja Love argue that the channel’s TV shows mirror the societal realities of Black people living in townships. Shows such as Sizok’thola and No Excuses Pay Papgeld tackle important issues, such as uncovering criminal networks with the help of police officials and holding people who evade child maintenance accountable, respectively. Further arguments state that the channel acts as a voice for marginalised people, as seen in shows such as Ufelani, where victims or families of victims of Intimate Partner Violence (IPV) tell their stories and raise awareness of this important topic that plagues South African communities. The final argument is that some of the shows result in meaningful actions, for instance, X-Repo, where people’s wrongfully withheld or taken items are retrieved on their behalf. On the other hand, critics of the channel bring about their own arguments, one of them being that it sensationalises the Black experience and exploits people’s trauma for profit. The channel consistently generates controversy through its shows, such as
Isencane Lengane. The protagonists, Thando and Siyacela, had their customary marriage at just the ages of 15 and 16, which raises questions of the ethicality of their union to begin with. Additionally, throughout the 8 seasons of the show, the relationship between the couple has increasingly become both emotionally and physically abusive towards Thando, with viewers calling for it to be cancelled to no avail. Another criticism of the channel is that it markets some of its shows, such as Teenage Pregnancy, as “educational”, claiming that it raises awareness and teaches teenagers about the dangers of unprotected sex and young parenthood. Contrary to Moja Love’s claims, viewers express that there are no meaningful learning opportunities in the show and most of it seems scripted. The teenagers consistently show a lack of knowledge about their reproductive organs, informed consent and statutory rape, since there have been several participants who have experienced it without even being aware of what it was. A truly educational show would take these moments to teach not only the participants but the viewers about these issues and clear up common misconceptions about these topics. The issue of exploitation arises from the fact that a lot of people featured in Moja Love reality shows come from impoverished backgrounds, so the financial incentive is usually cited as the reason they are and continue to be part of them. Those critical of Moja Love believe that instead of people participating in these shows to
SHOOT YOUR SHOT
ver s lo y o u h t Ma bout t it de a hi n o bl : How ually liking y l t s ct ust j iou den d a r e v c i s t u co u l a d o f p e e e S p w th st s. To Com p so e, in tuse d e u tim sta To n a e m Na the my hit k som gu la fin c ba an ys a doin e , g bo d t nd g p old XO yfri he b Ive sych en s XO en eau no ... un D. d of ty. tice No ray . yo I ' v d y w I ' f r ur e a ou m om ad the h e v I' o s i ls 've an H kin wh ver: I see no p sn o o g o o m u p u 't et. To my rush on fore y r e h ar bse ot b bser se t e g c o t t s 't e g n ou rv ra va e r big a e w nd ed ins nt why rea s o n an tha ym t or e.
share their stories or to generate educational opportunities, their financial desperation leads us to question whether their participation is authentic or whether they are akin to paid actors. As a result, the authenticity of the channel as a whole and some of its participants is compromised. There are various negative implications regarding the portrayal of Black people on the channel. The constant platforming of dysfunctional families and portrayal of illegal acts without any meaningful intervention from professionals validates stigmas, reinforces harmful stereotypes and influences how society at large views Black people and how Black people view themselves. The shows, whether the channel intends to or not, lead non-Black viewers who are already prejudiced to reinforce the negative views they already have. Also, the normalisation of spectacle above meaningful storytelling and education distorts the actual realities of the people they assert they represent. Moja Love is undeniably a complex channel; it exists in a space where it dually represents the Black experience to an extent but simultaneously misrepresents it. The main problem does not lie in whether the channel should exist or not but instead in its ability to evolve and live up to what it claims is its vision and mission. Before that happens, people will continue to ask, “Is everything actually good at Moja Love?”
k lo o f ro o n i n g g t a , h anyt l wa M Baba on’t know d if you t d e m n x mId er te ’t mi l I na e gir ass, ma’a i wouldn y numb h t o l T t got m 313 c g bu OPV teachin t you. Uu t u u abo me abo teach me.
s, pu m a c o th et o u co m s b y e to re the ate m l 😍😍 NM tiv nd s mo schoo a LK uy To ou g y
Visual: Sourced
To t ho he V my odie end RR w a P2 ho’s guy 00 w cla nam ith es ab ss all tar lac s h o ow m ts w i k p u e t th a ma t os ho T in ot my
To t scie he Chin nces e , I lo s e g u y d ve y ou f oing Ac o w i f e r m e < co u n t i n 3. It ee g ’s yo ur
19 October 2026
Fun and Games | 13
14 | Sport
19 October 2026
Beyond the Rainbow Flag: The Reality of Pride in the Locker Room
Corné Snyman
I
n one of the most harrowing sequences ever aired on Glee, Blaine Anderson shouts the words “I’m waiting for this cough syrup to come down” while Dave Karofsky lays out his suit on his bed, steps onto a chair with a look of utter despair in his eyes and comes down. This bruising, hyper-masculine high school football player completely unravels in this scene. For years, Karofsky used physical aggression and locker-room bravado as a shield to hide his sexuality. But in the quiet isolation of his bedroom, the weight of a secret he feels he cannot survive crushes him. This is a gutwrenching depiction of a tragedy that happens behind closed doors far too often. While Karofsky is a fictional character, what could perhaps be called the "Karofsky Complex" remains a terrifying reality in modern contact sports. The locker room is a pit of traditional masculinity. As documented by organisations like the American Psychological Association regarding mental health stigma in sports, athletes are conditioned from an early age to absorb heavy hits, project unyielding dominance, and view any emotional or physical vulnerability as a liability. When the entire culture of a sport equates silence with strength, a closeted athlete is forced into an agonizing psychological corner. They are celebrated for their physical armour on the pitch but left entirely defenceless against their own isolation off it. In recent years, many sports federations have attempted to address this, but their playbook is fundamentally flawed. Rather than dismantling the toxic elements of locker-room culture, leagues have leaned heavily into "rainbow capitalism", the practice of what business publications like Forbes classify as “rainbow-washing”,
which is the act of slapping PR-friendly inclusivity symbols onto a product or sport for a designated weekend without doing the actual structural groundwork. Mandatory Pride-themed warmup kits, rainbow corner flags and branded armbands have become the corporate standard. However, forcing performative allyship onto athletes and fanbases often sparks unnecessary hostility. It creates a cultural flashpoint that divides the stadium, while doing absolutely nothing to help the athlete suffering in silence. This growing frustration with superficial marketing isn't just a fan issue; it echoes among the athletes who actually live it. Take Phuti Lekoloane, Africa's first openly gay professional male footballer. Having faced severe discrimination and witnessed closeted players being forced into early retirement, he has openly criticized the lack of genuine institutional support in South African sports. Lekoloane has pointed out that while overseas leagues launch polished PR campaigns like #RainbowLaces, local federations have largely ignored the toxic locker-room cultures on the ground. When inclusivity initiatives are dictated by boardroom executives as forced PR exercises rather than structural reforms, they feel entirely hollow. True acceptance must be built organically in the trenches of training and match days, not mandated by a commercial sponsor looking to tick a diversity box. The harsh reality is that a rainbow logo painted on the 50-metre line provides zero psychological safety to a teenager terrified of being alienated by his teammates. Forced participation in ideological campaigns substitutes genuine cultural support with cosmetic band-aids. It allows organisations to pat themselves on the back and sell themed merchandise while the underlying stigmas remain firmly intact.
True Pride in sports should not be measured by the vibrancy of a weekend marketing campaign, but by the structural safety nets available to the players. It requires comprehensive mental health support, coaching staff trained to foster environments of authentic respect and a systemic shift away from the "win-at-allcosts" toxicity that demands emotional suppression. Until sporting bodies stop treating inclusivity as a merchandising opportunity and start treating it as a matter of player welfare, the silence in the locker room will remain deafening. We must ensure that for the athletes quietly fighting their own battles, the game offers a lifeline, not an exit.
Two Sides of the Same Blade: How Patriarchy Claims the Lives of Men and Women By Sawelelwa Zuleikha Gumede
J
onny Steinberg discusses in Against the Odds: Engaged Young Fatherhood in Contemporary South Africa that patriarchy functions like a tacit contract for men: submit to the system by working hard, suppressing your emotions and enforcing the hierarchy, then you will be rewarded with dominance, a family to rule over and economic stability. He postulates that capitalism broke that contract. Youth unemployment causes an observed phenomenon of “thwarted belongingness,” a core construct of Thomas Joiner’s Interpersonal Theory of Suicide that leaves young men stuck in “boyhood”, because manhood is tied to financial capability like financing lobola, a homestead and family support. The male role under this paradigm is rigid and when the culture offers little alternatives to be “valid”, suicide becomes a tragic answer to a rigid question they can’t answer themselves. September was Suicide Prevention Month, and although we describe suicide as a permanent solution to a temporary problem, we cannot challenge this crisis without addressing the systemic circumstances that claim the lives of men and women alike. Epidemiological data from the National Library of Medicine reveals a stark and uncomfortable contradiction known as the Gender Paradox of Suicidal Behaviour coined by suicidologist Silvia Sara Canetto: women report higher rates of suicidal ideation and survive non-fatal attempts at roughly three times the rate of men, while men die by suicide at more than four times of the rate
of women. Yet in South Africa, where men account for more than four out of every five recorded suicides, it is clear that patriarchy is a predatory contract causing a public health crisis. We are confronting a singular, hyper-masculine engine that conditions young men to direct their pain outward to the women around them or inward towards themselves. This is where visibility bias enters campus discourse. Distress that turns inward is often invisible until it’s fatal, read afterward as an isolated tragedy rather than a pattern. Distress that turns outward is visible, immediate and, disturbingly, sometimes normalised as “just how men are” rather than named as gender-based violence. Both are downstream of the same enforced silence; one is simply easier to look away from until it’s too late. An academic and lecturer at the University of Pretoria’s Department of Psychology who prefers to remain anonymous describes patriarchy as a “narcissistic parent” with “women as the scapegoat child expected to absorb blame for problems they didn’t create, while rigid gender conformity like homophobia is the golden child protected at all costs. Both reinforce the dynamic and neither challenge it while both are dehumanising positions to be in.” She further lamented that “men blame women and feminism instead of capitalism and the patriarchy, but there is clearly a [failure] that claims the lives of men, women and other gender minorities. Homophobia is the enforcement mechanism that exacerbates rejection of male victimhood and gender minorities are the scapegoat for cishet men and women alike, which ultimately hurts us
all as a society. Gender minorities are attacked because they prove that the boxes aren’t real, which threatens everyone who has built their entire self-worth on staying inside their box.” The Cambridge Dictionary describes “alexithymia” as the difficulty identifying and naming one’s own emotions. This is the default setting many boys are trained into. “Indoda ayikhali” (“a man doesn’t cry or complain”) is an instruction where shame becomes socially lethal in a system where vulnerability is coded as weakness. A female final-year BSc Computer Science student and a male final-year BA Law student who prefer to remain anonymous, both speaking about navigating acute mental health crises during their degrees, describe strikingly similar root experiences like isolation, fear of being dismissed and a campus culture quick to label distress as either “attention-seeking” or “just stress.” That dismissiveness isn’t neutral but is, itself, the fear of being dismissed and ignored is not neutral nor is it inconsequential and it costs lives on both sides of the same blade. Patriarchy doesn’t protect men by harming women, and it doesn’t protect women by demanding men suppress themselves. It fails everyone, simultaneously, by the same mechanism. Recognising that shared root is not about equating harms – it’s about recognising a single system worth dismantling together. This piece discusses suicide statistics and mental health crises. If you or someone you know is struggling, UP’s Student Counselling Unit and the South African Depression and Anxiety Group (SADAG) helpline (0800 567 567) are available for support.
Pedalling Towards the Future of South African Cycling Betty Molefe
W
hile most students were focusing on lectures and assignments at the end of September, young cyclists from across South Africa were preparing for one of the country’s key youth cycling competitions in Oudtshoorn. The SA Youth Road Cycling, Criterium and Time Trial Championships, presented by Eden Cycling, took place from 24 to 27 September and brought together riders in age categories from u11 to u17 for three days of competition. The championships offered more than a weekend of racing. They provided an opportunity to see the level of competition within the sport and the development of young riders who could eventually move into senior and elite cycling. The competition began with the criterium races on Friday, 25 September, at the VG Church Hall in Bridgton. Riders then competed over short, fast races, with the U17 categories racing for 25 minutes plus one lap.
Saturday shifted the focus to individual performance, with the time trials taking place at Highgate Ostrich Show Farm. The U17 categories covered 20km, while younger riders raced distances between 9.2km and 15km. The championships finished on Sunday with the road races. The U17 riders faced the biggest challenge of the weekend, with both the boys’ and girls’ races covering 80km. Furthermore, U15 riders had to race over 60km, while U13 and U11 riders covered 30km and 20km respectively. For university students who already participated in cycling, the event offered a chance to follow emerging riders and understand the Visual: Sourced
competitive pathway within the sport. It also raised questions about how accessible cycling is to young South Africans and what support riders need to continue competing as they progress through different age groups. Unlike sports such as football and rugby, cycling often requires athletes to have access to expensive equipment, transport and organised training. The championships also included a Para Blind Division, which competed over 30km in Sunday’s road race. Para-cycling riders received championship medals and jerseys regardless of the number of competitors in their category. The event was run according to Union Cycliste International (UCI) and Cycling South Africa rules. Riders had to be members of Cycling South Africa and belong to an affiliated club to qualify for a championship podium position. As the championships rolled into Oudtshoorn, the riders were chasing medals and championship jerseys. But for some, the bigger goal may be discovering whether cycling can take them from youth competition to the next level of the sport.
19 October 2026
Anastacia Couloubis
Sport | 15
L i f e A f t e r t h e Tr y L i n e
F
or most of his life, Morné Steyn knew exactly what came next. Training. Matches. Tours. Trophies. Another week of rugby. After more than two decades in professional rugby, that routine eventually had to change. While stepping away from playing could have meant losing a huge part of his identity, Steyn believes the key is making sure rugby is never the only thing that defines you. Photo: Morne Steyn Steyn’s career began shortly after school, coming through the Blue Bulls system before making his professional debut at just 19. Rugby had already been a major part of his life long before that, with his father and brothers also playing a role in shaping his relationship with the sport. That early introduction eventually became a career that lasted more than 20 years, but according to Steyn, some of the biggest lessons he took from rugby had little to do with what happened on the field. Discipline, for one. Being part of professional teams taught him the importance of the small things that can easily be overlooked outside of a sporting environment: being on time, working hard and understanding what it means to be part of a team. “It taught me some great things for life after rugby as well,” Steyn said. But life after rugby was always going to be a big adjustment. After spending so many years in a professional sporting environment, suddenly not being a player could have left a sizeable hole. For Steyn, however, the transition was made easier by the fact that he never really left rugby behind. After stepping away from playing, he moved into coaching with the Lions, taking on a role as a kicking coach. It meant that he was still going to training, still travelling and still spending time around players, just without having to worry about being the one on the field. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, there are some perks to that. “It’s more of a relaxing role for me, being a kicking coach and not the head coach,” he said. “For me, it’s a different role, but I actually want
to say it's much more fun.” There are still things he misses. The feeling of playing in a winning team. Lifting trophies. Being in the changing room afterwards with his teammates. And, yes, having a beer with the players. “Just to be in a team environment,” Steyn said. “But, like I said, it’s still good for me. I am still involved with rugby, but I think playing is just a different feeling, different role.” That difference is something many athletes eventually have to face. For some, the end of their playing career can feel like the end of everything they have worked towards. Steyn has seen it happen to people he played alongside. “I think [for] a lot of them, rugby is everything for them. And then, as soon as it gets taken away, it feels like their whole life is falling apart,” he said. His own experience was different. Rugby was a huge part of his life, but it was never all of it. “I think as soon as I got married, [had] kids, then you actually see what life’s about,” Steyn said. “Your priorities change.” It is a lesson he believes younger athletes need to learn before their careers come to an end, rather than after. Steyn’s advice is simple: build a life outside of sport. “Get something outside of rugby, get friends outside of rugby,” he said. “Just to get your head out of rugby sometimes.” For student-athletes, that can be particularly important. University sport can easily become a 24/7 lifestyle, with training, matches, gym sessions, travel and studying all competing for attention. But even for those who dream of making sport their profession, there is no guarantee that their career will last as long as they hope. Steyn believes that there is currently a gap in helping young athletes prepare for that reality. Some players are still in grade 11 or grade 12 when they begin earning money from professional unions, he explained. Learning how to manage that money, plan for the future and understand that a sporting career can be cut short are lessons that need to come much earlier. “Use your money wisely, think of your time after rugby, because this can be cut short anytime,” he said. “And then you need something else to fall back on.”
For UP student-athletes balancing university with their sporting careers, his message is equally straightforward: have a plan B. “Rugby’s not gonna be there for all your lives,” Steyn said. “Always get something, a plan B as well.” That does not mean walking away from sport while still playing. In fact, Steyn believes staying involved in sport after playing can be an important part of the transition. His own coaching career has given him a new way of measuring success. Rather than worrying about the next trophy, his focus is now on helping someone else improve. As a kicking coach, Steyn gets to see young players develop over time, whether that means improving their goal-kicking percentage or simply becoming better players. For him, one of the biggest rewards is hearing from someone months later who tells him that the work they did together made a difference. “That’s a bit of a tap on the shoulder for me,” he joked. That desire to make a difference has also taken him to smaller towns and schools where young players might never otherwise get the opportunity to spend time with someone who has played at the highest level. “You go there, spend some time with the kids and just be there for them,” Steyn said. “Just give back a little bit.” And perhaps that is where Steyn’s definition of success has changed the most. During his playing career, success could be measured in points, victories and trophies. Now, it can be something much smaller. A player improving from 60% to 80% off the tee. A young athlete remembering a conversation years later. A parent sending a message to say that something Steyn did made a difference to their child. “Success is not always winning trophies and being the best guy in the world,” Steyn said. Instead, he believes success is about making the most of whatever talent you have, regardless of where it takes you. “If it’s in playing rugby, if it’s in big business, if it’s in selling cars, you know, success is to make a success of your work, wherever you are.” For someone who spent so much of his life being measured by what happened on a rugby field, it is a fitting change in perspective. The final whistle does not necessarily mean the end of the story. Sometimes, it simply means the game has changed. For Steyn, rugby is still there. It is just no longer the whole picture. And perhaps that is the most important lesson for anyone standing at the end of one chapter of their life: moving on does not mean leaving everything behind. Sometimes, it means taking what you learned with you and finding a new way to use it.
When the Lights Went Out, the Spirit of the Sappi Tuks Night Race Stayed On Cayden Coetzer and Kofi Donkor What was meant to be a night of running, music and celebration at the University of Pretoria’s Hillcrest Sport Campus instead became an unexpected test of patience and perseverance when a power outage forced the cancellation of the 2026 Sappi Tuks Night Race on Wednesday, 9 September. The race, which was scheduled to start at 18:30, had attracted a sold-out field for its 5km and 10km events. The evening had been billed as more than just a road race, with TuksFM providing entertainment, hype points and music alongside the running action. For the runners who arrived at Hillcrest, the excitement was palpable. “It's completely different to last year,” said one runner's husband, who attended with his family to support his wife, who works for Sappi, as well as his daughter, a first-year UP student. “This is a lovely vibe. Good atmosphere. The energy is fantastic.” That energy was evident throughout the race village, with runners arriving in colourful outfits and groups, preparing for an evening of running and socialising. Among them were runners from Zinnia, who summed up their motivation simply: “It's all about the vibes.” For the TuksFM runners, the evening was an opportunity to combine their love of running with the social side of the event. “We're just here for the atmosphere,” they said, adding that they were looking forward to the fun along the route and the race's hype zones. A personal best would have been an added bonus. TuksSport Director Steven Ball said that the night race was designed to provide precisely that type of experience. “There are very few night races still in Pretoria,” Ball explained. “So, I think it's just an opportunity. But for us, it was about how we create an opportunity also for our students.” With students having just come through test week, Ball said that the event was intended to give them an opportunity to “take a deep breath, enjoy the opportunity and get out with friends.” The broader goal, however, extended beyond one evening. TuksSport has positioned participation and recreational sport alongside high-performance sport as an important part of its sporting offering. Ball said that the night race formed part of a bigger vision of encouraging the university community to get moving. “My dream is for us to have a ‘Tuks on the Move’ thing,” he said. “So, how do we get Tuks moving?” For Ball, the ultimate message was that physical activity does not have to be about competition. “Healthy lifestyle can be fun,” he said. “And you've got to find where the fun is, and it's not about winning.” That message was tested in an unexpected way when the power went out shortly before the scheduled start of the race.
Because the race is held at night, the loss of essential route lighting meant that continuing was not considered safe. TuksSport, TuksAthletics and title sponsor Sappi subsequently announced the cancellation, with the organisers apologising for the disappointment and confirming that all registered entrants would receive a full refund. For runners waiting at the starting area, however, the uncertainty continued for more than two hours before the cancellation was finally announced. The mood understandably changed as the wait continued. “I am tired,” said one runner. “My feet hurt because of this. I would have been done by now,” another said. Others described themselves as restless, annoyed and increasingly frustrated, although there remained optimism that the lights would eventually return. Despite the frustration, the atmosphere did not disappear completely. Gustav Liebenberg, who had arrived ready to run, admitted that he was disappointed after waiting for more than an hour and a half. “I was so hyped up and everything, and now all of a sudden they just say it's cancelled,” he said. Fellow runner Liam Smith shared the disappointment but acknowledged the circumstances. “The power that got tripped, it's out of the organiser's hands,” Smith said. “It's more just disappointment and it's unfortunate. We would have loved to participate, but next time.” Both runners, however, praised the atmosphere before the cancellation. “It was amazing,” Liebenberg said. “All of the music playing all of the time. I was so hyped up all of the time. I just kept on dancing.” Smith pointed to the runners' outfits and glow sticks as another highlight of the evening, describing the concept as a “very cool initiative.” And then, despite the official cancellation, some runners decided that their night was not quite over. Levi, a runner from Morula Residence, decided to complete the 5km he had promised himself he would finish. “I think I promised myself I'm going to finish a 5K,” he said. “I was close to finishing it, so that's the reason.” Water station staff from sponsor Typek also remained behind to hand out water to those who chose to run independently after the cancellation. “Everybody is disappointed. So, at least lift the spirit,” they said. For some, the night ultimately became less about an official finishing time and more about simply being part
of something. The runners' reactions reflected that. One wanted to celebrate the end of the evening with cake. Another was still eager to see what time she could achieve over 5km. Others simply wanted to enjoy the experience. Even Livingston Banda arrived ready to embrace the occasion – in a suit, having come directly from a presentation. “It’s commitment,” he joked when asked about his unusual running attire. One runner’s determination stood out as she arrived in a dress and sandals, only to borrow a pair of running shoes from another participant and decide she was going to take on the 5km. “I’m doing this thing, guys. Like, I’m running,” she said, embracing the unexpected challenge despite the evening’s uncertainty. Although the 2026 Sappi Tuks Night Race did not unfold as planned, the response from the running community demonstrated why the event has become such a popular fixture on Pretoria's running calendar. The race had been marketed as a celebration of participation, energy and community, with Sappi and TuksSport highlighting the importance of shared experiences and active lifestyles. The organisers have since thanked runners, sponsors, service providers, volunteers and partners for their support and understanding, emphasising that runner safety remains the priority. The lights may have gone out at Hillcrest, but for many of those who arrived ready to run, the spirit of the Sappi Tuks Night Race remained very much alive. Photo: Cayden Coetzer
Sport More Than Rivals: Why the All Blacks “Love” South African Rugby Seeing South African Rugby Through Ruben Love’s Eyes Cayden Coetzer
F
or 80 minutes, the Springboks and All Blacks are opponents. But beyond the final whistle, Ruben Love sees something far more human. There are few fixtures in world sport that carry the weight of a Springboks-All Blacks test match. It is a rivalry built on history, physicality and an almost mutual refusal to give the other side an inch. Since their first meeting in 1921, South Africa and New Zealand have produced some of rugby’s most defining contests, including two World Cup finals separated by 28 years. For All Blacks player Ruben Love, that history matters, but the contrast between competition and connection is what makes playing South Africa so special. “What [playing against the Springboks has] taught me is that it is just about a game of who can endure the most pain for the longest while being accurate,” Love said. The Springboks and All Blacks have met 114 times since their first Test in Dunedin, with New Zealand holding the historical advantage in victories. Between them, the two nations have also claimed seven of the 10 Rugby World Cups played since 1987. The rivalry has survived political upheaval, World Cup heartbreak and decades of fiercely contested Tests. The 1981 Springbok tour of New Zealand became a flashpoint in the country’s opposition to Apartheid, while the 1995 and 2023 World Cup finals added two of the sport’s most enduring chapters to the rivalry. The All Blacks’ 2026 return to South Africa for their first full tour of the country in 30 years added another layer of significance. For Love, however, the meaning of the rivalry is not found solely in the result. It is found in the relationships that exist underneath it. “Nothing’s bigger than the game,” he said. “And at the end of the day, we’re all human.” Love described the experience as one of competing fiercely against players he can simultaneously form genuine connections with. “I just think the connections that you can have with players [in] the
Springboks is something special,” he said. He also mentioned that he and Sacha Feinberg-Mngomezulu stay in contact quite often. Supporters experience the rivalry through jerseys, national anthems, tackles and scoreboards. Players experience it differently. They share the same field, the same physical demands and the same understanding of what it means to represent a rugby nation. For Love, that becomes particularly obvious once the game is over. “As soon as you get into the change rooms and you start talking to them, you realise you’re not too dissimilar to each other.” The Rivalry without the Hostility Rugby rivalries are often sold through division: us against them, one nation against another, one jersey against another. Love’s perspective offers a different interpretation. The respect between the two sides exists precisely because both understand what the other is capable of. For 80 minutes, that respect manifests itself as competition. “But make no mistake,” Love said, “for the 80 minutes, we’re trying to dominate and stuff like that.” The ability to separate the competition from the person is part of what makes elite sport possible. A player can spend an entire Test trying to overpower an opponent before shaking his hand afterwards. The two nations have spent generations trying to prove themselves superior to one another, yet the intensity of that contest has created a shared understanding between the players who live it. Love believes that shared experience extends beyond the players themselves. “You just want to inspire the next generation and everyone’s just living out their own dreams,” he said. More than a Result For South African supporters, the All Blacks have long represented the ultimate measuring stick. For New Zealand, the Springboks offer much the same challenge. Neither side can take the other lightly. That is why Love’s description of the rivalry as a battle of endurance is so fitting. It is not simply about who is more talented. It is about who can withstand more pressure, more physicality and
more uncertainty while still executing when it matters. But there is another measure of success beyond the final whistle. “We just know that we’re inspiring a lot of people around the world,” Love said, “and giving, I think, a lot of people an outlet to watch the games on Saturday with good emotion.” That may be the greatest irony of one of rugby’s fiercest rivalries. The same game that creates international division can create personal connection. The same players who spend 80 minutes trying to dominate one another can walk off the field recognising that they are not so different after all. For supporters, there may always be love lost between the Springboks and All Blacks. For the players, there is respect, shared experience and a recognition that the rivalry is only possible because both sides understand what the other brings to the game. For 80 minutes, they are trying to endure the pain longer than the other side. After that, they are simply rugby players who got to live out the same dream Visual: Jemma Thompson
A Different Shade of Green: What Vici-Rose Green Sees in South African Women’s Rugby Cayden Coetzer
F
or New Zealand Black Fern Vici-Rose Green, South Africa has offered more than a different rugby environment – it has offered a different perspective on what it means to play the
game. For years, New Zealand has been the benchmark of women’s rugby. The Black Ferns have built one of the most successful legacies in the sport, with seven Rugby World Cup titles and a professional environment that has increasingly allowed their players to make rugby a career. Meanwhile, South Africa is still building. The gap between the two systems was visible at FNB Stadium on 5 September when the Black Ferns defeated the Springbok Women 52-20 in a historic Test. New Zealand’s pace, skill and experience ultimately proved too much, but South Africa’s four tries and periods of dominance offered evidence of a team continuing to establish itself against the world’s best. For Green, however, the difference between the two countries cannot simply be measured on a scoreboard. It can be measured in resources, opportunity and what players are able to make of the circumstances they are given. And, unexpectedly, it can also be measured in gratitude. A Game that Became a Career Green knows what it means to come from a system where women’s rugby has been given the opportunity to grow. For her, one of the most significant differences between New Zealand and South Africa is not necessarily the quality of the players, but the infrastructure surrounding them. “I think the differences that we probably have in our women’s rugby is that we’re really well resourced,” Green said. That support extends beyond the rugby field. “We’re really grateful for being able to have support from our NZ government from the rugby perspective,” she said. Most importantly, that support has allowed players to make the transition from fitting rugby around their lives to making it their lives. “Just being able to do it as a full-time job is amazing.” That reality is relatively recent. Green pointed out that a few years ago, women’s rugby in New Zealand was not a full-time profession.
“A couple years ago it wasn’t full-time,” she said. “So being able to have the ladies that paved the way for us to be full-time, it’s just made our rugby take it up a notch.” Professionalisation does not automatically create success, but it creates the opportunity for players to train more, recover properly, develop professionally and dedicate themselves to the sport in ways that are difficult when rugby has to compete with work or other responsibilities. South Africa is still working towards that level of opportunity. But Green’s experience suggests that the conversation cannot stop at what South Africa does not yet have. “You could be anything or come from anything.” Ask Green what South Africa has taught her, and her answer moves away from rugby entirely. It begins with gratitude. “I think just the gratitude they have for each other and for what they have,” she said. “I think we take for granted what we have back at home,” Green added, pointing to resources, access to fields and the ability to simply play. Her experience in South Africa challenged that perception. The players she encountered came from different circumstances, including backgrounds marked by hardship, yet they continued to pursue rugby and push themselves forward. “These girls, they’ve come from really [difficult] backgrounds,” Green said. “You could be anything or come from anything and you’re still able to be the best version of yourself.” The Springbok Women are not yet where the Black Ferns are. New Zealand’s experience, depth and resources remain a significant advantage. But the distance between the two nations is not necessarily a reason for South Africa to look only towards New Zealand for answers. It can also be a reason to recognise what is already being built. Different Systems, Same Ambition South African women’s rugby is developing in a landscape where the professional opportunities available to players are not yet comparable to those of New Zealand. And yet the Springbok Women have continued to make progress.
Their run to the knockout stages of the 2025 Rugby World Cup marked a historic first, while their performances against the Black Ferns – including periods of scrum dominance and four tries at FNB Stadium – showed that the gap is not without resistance. The lesson from New Zealand is not that South Africa needs to become New Zealand. It is that sustained investment can change what a generation of players believes is possible. Green is living proof of that progression herself. She is part of a Black Ferns side that benefits from the work of players who came before her – women who helped push the game towards full-time status and created opportunities that previously did not exist. South Africa’s current players are attempting to do something similar for the generation that follows them. The pathway may look different. The resources may not be equal, but the ambition is familiar. What Comes Next It is possible to acknowledge the gap without overlooking the progress. South African women’s rugby needs continued investment, opportunities and visibility so that future players can look at rugby and see a viable career in the same way Green does. But those players are already here. They are representing their country, pushing against the boundaries of what women’s rugby in South Africa has traditionally been expected to look like, and paving the way for someone else. Green arrived in South Africa as a Black Fern, carrying the experience of a rugby system that has spent years building towards professionalism. However, she leaves with something less tangible: gratitude. For Green, South Africa’s lesson is not simply about rugby. It is about perspective – about recognising where opportunity comes from, appreciating those who created it and understanding that circumstances do not have to determine how far a person can go. “You could be anything or come from anything,” Green said, “and you’re still able to be the best version of yourself.” The fields may be different. The systems may be different. But the dream is the same.
30 000 people read the print version of
To advertise email carel.willemse@up.ac.za
visit www.pdby.co.za for ad rates