On a grey morning in Cape Town, the College of Cape Town campus felt unusually heavy. The corridors, once buzzing with the chatter of students rushing to lectures, carried whispers instead, whispers of fear, betrayal, and anger.
At the heart of it all stood Mhangarai Muswaba, the CEO whose name had become a shadow over the institution. Allegations swirled like a gathering storm: assaulting staff members, irregularly awarding a R46 million contract, and creating a climate where silence was safer than truth.
I watched as staff huddled together outside the administration block, their voices low but urgent. One woman clutched her notebook tightly, as if it were armor. She told me, “We’ve lived under intimidation for too long. Speaking out feels dangerous, but keeping quiet feels worse”.
Students, too, were restless. Posters demanding accountability clung to the walls, their bold letters a cry for justice. A young activist, his eyes burning with determination, said: “We came here to build our futures. Instead, we’re watching leaders tear it apart”.
The scandal had already reached Pretoria. Higher Education Minister Buti Manamela had dispatched a team to probe the cracks in governance, administration, and operations. Their final report, expected next week, carried the weight of hope and dread, hope for reform, dread for what it might reveal.
As the day wore on, the campus seemed to hold its breath. The College of Cape Town, once a proud institution, now stood at a crossroads. Would it emerge stronger, rebuilt on accountability? Or would the storm consume its legacy?