Opinion article by Puleng Matebesi and Prof Sethulego Matebesi, Acting Vice-Dean: Research, Innovation and Postgraduate Studies, Faculty of the Humanities, University of the Free State
In the high-stakes arena of South African tertiary education, where dreams of upward mobility clash with systemic overload, the Tshivenda phrase for patience, kondelela, echoes like a rallying cry. This term, which signifies enduring hardships, has featured in several Venda Afro-pop songs since 1991. It urges perseverance, not only through storms, but even when skies are clear, a reminder that true endurance builds character.
Yet today, for students, kondelela feels less like empowerment and more like a cruel irony.
Piled under mounting academic pressures, financial strain, and societal expectations, young minds are fracturing. The academic journey has turned toxic for many, poisoning the very perseverance we celebrate. Universities, as social and cultural infrastructure, must confront this mental health crisis head-on, or risk losing a generation’s potential.
The toxic gauntlet students navigate
Consider the toxic gauntlet students navigate daily. A third-year student wakes at 3am to beat looming submission deadlines, despite sleep deprivation from hunger. Group projects devolve into blame games when peers ghost, burdened by multiple jobs flipping burgers or tutoring to fill gaps in the National Student Financial Aid Scheme. Social media bombards us with curated “success” facades, fuelling imposter syndrome, and romantic pressures and family duties (sending remittances home) pile on.
Racial tensions continue to simmer and occasionally erupt at South African universities, forcing some students to endure microaggressions, while queer students or students with disabilities hide their identities to avoid ostracism.
Panic attacks in lecture halls, substance abuse as self-medication, and a pervasive dread where every setback whispers failure.
Puleng knows this toxic gauntlet intimately. In her second year as an agriculture student, without any warning, her world crumbled as she plunged into more than four years of mental strife, forcing her to abandon her studies. She survived and returned to campus to complete a Journalism degree. And over the past three years, a passionate Anthropology lecturer unknowingly created new perspectives on the world.
But how many students find their way back? How many fall by the wayside, degrees dust, dreams deferred forever? How many orphaned young, thrust into the role of breadwinner, can carry the assumed parental responsibilities while attending classes?
The underlying assumption is that these students will, somehow, find ways to cope. Unfortunately, though, a glaring reality is that caring relationships are centred on the family, a fundamental societal unit. Without a parent figure or a caring family, the long-term impact on academic journeys becomes a whirlwind of despair. As a result, student wellness programmes must move beyond traditional reactive counselling services and actively disrupt established academic norms that prioritise productivity over human well-being.
Amplifying student voices through the co-creation of intervention programmes
Recent global reports indicate a sustained crisis in university student well-being, characterised by high levels of anxiety, depression, and burnout, which have not fully returned to pre-COVID-19 levels. In Sub-Saharan Africa, research indicates a need for stronger, updated mental health policies, as many countries rely on general health policies that lack specific provisions for students. In high-income countries, high levels of investment in mental health initiatives are evident, as student well-being is included in national plans. At the international level, policymakers and higher education leaders have adopted measures to halt the decline in student well-being.
Closer to home, while studies indicate very high rates of suicidal ideation among university students, wellness interventions have transformed from top-down dictates to co-created collaborative efforts. In line with UN Sustainable Development Goal 3, which focuses on “good health and well-being” to ensure healthy lives and well-being for all through the development of evidence-based practices and policies, many university wellness programmes have emerged as lifelines, amplifying silenced voices. Of note is how these programmes have been reframed within higher education as relational co-creation of knowledge rooted in communal reciprocity and contextual resilience.
Finding your self-care fit: A generational commitment
There has never been a more urgent time than now for students, across the board, to invest in regular, quality self-care to improve mental health. Studies consistently demonstrate that self-care is not merely about relation but is a foundational, active process that builds resilience, helping individuals navigate stress and recover from adversity.
And of course, there is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to self-care.
In the spirit of kondelela, this is more than individual persistence. It is a generational commitment to equip everyone with the tools to thrive amid mental storms. Thus, vulnerable students facing anxiety, depression, or academic burnout must embrace self-care without stigma.
As one mental health survivor shared: “The first thing you try may not be right, but the first pair of shoes you try on may not be right either. You’ll still find the right chunky white sneakers, so don’t give up.”
Those chunky white sneakers, a bold emblem of Gen Z style, chunky soles for stability, crisp white for fresh starts, represent that ideal, custom-fit strategy, be it mindfulness, therapy, or rest.
Together, let’s commit across generations to foster resilience, ensuring no student walks alone.
* Puleng Matebesi is a recent Journalism Graduate at UFS