by marketing | Sep 29, 2026 | blog, News @ ORT, Old News
By Meso Qhobela – ORT SA Junior Marketing and Communications Manager
Every morning in South Africa, long before the formal economy has had its first coffee, another
economy is already at work.
The woman selling vetkoek outside the taxi rank has been up for hours. The young man repairing
cracked phone screens from a folding table has already answered his first WhatsApp enquiry. The
spaza shop around the corner opened before most offices and will probably close long after them.
For years, we have spoken about these businesses almost affectionately, side hustles, survival
businesses, informal traders. The language makes them sound temporary, as though everyone is
simply waiting for a “proper job” to arrive. But what if the proper job isn’t coming?
According to Stats SA, Quarterly Labour Force Survey (QLFS) Q2:2026 South Africa’s unemployment
rate reached 33.6% in the second quarter of 2026, leaving about 8.5 million people unemployed.
Youth unemployment stood at 47.4%. Nearly one in two young people in the labour force could not
find work. At some point, unemployment at this scale stops being a temporary crisis and becomes
something an economy has to be designed around. And South Africans are already designing around
it.
Micro enterprises are doing far more economic heavy lifting than their size suggests. They put food
on tables, circulate money within communities and create livelihoods in places where formal
employment has failed to reach. Some eventually employ others. Many never will. That does not
make them insignificant.
I put the question to Christopher Dickie an ORT South Africa Project Manager and Business Coach
who works directly with young entrepreneurs from underserved communities. Their response was
refreshingly free of romance.
“We are well beyond the point where micro enterprises can be viewed simply as an inspiring
narrative. In the South African context, they have become an economic necessity.” That distinction
matters.
We have become very good at turning entrepreneurship into motivational content. There is always a
smiling founder, an inspirational quote and a photograph taken beside a new piece of equipment.
What tends to disappear from the frame is how extraordinarily difficult it is to keep a tiny business
alive.
According to the Dickie’s experience, roughly half of the micro enterprises they encounter begin
because someone has spotted a genuine opportunity. The other half begin because someone needs
to eat. Those are very different starting lines. His estimate is that an opportunity-driven micro
enterprise might have around a 30% chance of surviving, while a necessity-driven one may be closer
to 10%. Only about 15% of the businesses they work with are genuinely positioned for growth. These
figures are practitioner estimates rather than national survival statistics, but they expose something
important about the way we talk about entrepreneurship.
We are obsessed with scale. Every entrepreneur is apparently supposed to become an employer,
then a founder, then a CEO, preferably with a LinkedIn announcement somewhere along the way.
Real life is less tidy. If someone who could not find work builds a business that reliably pays their
rent, buys groceries and keeps the lights on, that matters. If it eventually employs another person,
even better. But a one-person business that creates a sustainable livelihood has not somehow failed
because it did not become the next big thing.
As Dickie put it, “If a young person can create a sustainable livelihood for themselves, that has real
economic and social value.” In a country with our unemployment numbers, we should take that
sentence seriously.
There is another uncomfortable truth hiding beneath South Africa’s enthusiasm for
entrepreneurship sometimes the difference between an idea and an operating business is not a
multimillion-rand investment.
It is R5,000…Or R10,000 according to Dickie. Enough for initial stock, equipment, transport or the
first small production run. For many young entrepreneurs, even that relatively modest amount
remains difficult to access.
Yet money is only part of the story. The businesses that stall are often undone by decidedly
unglamorous things. The owner does not understand who is actually buying. Customers are not
followed up. Prices are set without knowing the margins. Business money becomes household
money because, inevitably, the household needs it. Then comes the first serious setback and
suddenly the business is fighting for oxygen.
“Capital can help a good business grow,” Dickie told me, “but capital cannot compensate for a lack of
business capability.”
That is a less exciting message than “fund the youth”, but probably a more useful one.
A young entrepreneur does not necessarily need another six months in a classroom. They may need
someone they can call when their biggest customer has not paid, when their pricing makes no sense,
when sales suddenly collapse or when they are deciding whether to spend their last R3,000 on stock
or marketing. That is where sustained business coaching becomes far more interesting than once-off
training.
Corporate South Africa also needs to reconsider what successful enterprise development looks like.
A programme should not be judged primarily by how many entrepreneurs entered it, how many
training hours were delivered or how many certificates were printed.
But where are those businesses three years later? Are they trading? Are their revenues improving?
Have they entered new markets? Are they employing anyone? Can the owner now support
themselves without returning to unemployment? Those answers tell us far more than an attendance
register ever will. And perhaps that requires a longer attention span. Building viable businesses takes
years, not the neat twelve-month cycle of a corporate budget.
So please, lets Stop calling it a side hustle. There is something revealing about this phrase. A side
hustle is supposed to sit beside something else. But beside what?
For millions of South Africans, there is no salaried job sitting on the other side of the equation. The
hustle is the income. The micro enterprise is the employment strategy. The person selling food,
repairing phones, braiding hair, coding websites, manufacturing furniture or running a township
delivery service is not waiting in the wings of the economy. They are already in it.
That does not mean South Africa should give up on creating formal jobs. Quite the opposite. We
desperately need investment, industrial growth and businesses capable of employing people at
scale.
But waiting for those jobs while treating micro enterprise as an interesting sideshow would be a
serious mistake. The future South African economy will not be built exclusively in boardrooms in
Sandton. Some of it is already being built at taxi ranks, on WhatsApp, in garages, back rooms,
kitchens, salons, workshops and township high streets. Stall by stall. Customer by customer. Invoice
by invoice.
The people building it do not need us to keep calling them inspirational. They need access to
markets. Faster payment. Sensible finance. Serious business support. Safer places to trade. And
enough time to turn survival into something sturdier.
Perhaps the most important shift is the simplest one. Stop treating micro enterprise as the waiting
room for the formal economy. Start treating it as fuel for the economy itself.
by marketing | Sep 2, 2026 | blog, News @ ORT
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐂𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐞.
𝐁𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐨 𝐐𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐚
Every August, South Africa celebrates Women’s Month. We share stories of remarkable women, quote the pioneers who came before us, and applaud the progress we’ve made. And rightly so. We’ve come a long way.
But somewhere between the celebrations and the statistics, it’s worth asking an uncomfortable question:
𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?
It depends on where you’re looking.
If you’re looking at Parliament, the answer seems to be yes. South Africa consistently ranks among the better-performing countries globally for women’s political representation. Women hold around 44% of parliamentary seats, and female leaders occupy prominent positions across government. Our Constitution is unambiguous in its commitment to equality, and our laws have created opportunities that many countries are still striving towards.
On paper, South Africa looks like a success story. Yet step into many boardrooms, executive committees and corporate headquarters, and the view changes dramatically. The higher you climb, the fewer women you see. One of the most misleading things about progress is that it can look complete long before it actually is. A generation ago, the barriers were obvious. Women were openly told certain jobs weren’t for them. Promotions were denied without apology. Leadership was often considered a man’s domain.
Today’s barriers are far subtler. Nobody says a woman can’t become CEO, they simply don’t appoint many. The glass ceiling hasn’t shattered, it’s become almost invisible. That’s what makes it so difficult to challenge.
According to the Commission for Employment Equity’s latest annual report and Just Share’s 2025 analysis of the JSE Top 40, women occupy only around 27% of executive management positions in South Africa’s largest listed companies. Just 6% of JSE Top 40 companies are led by a woman CEO.
Those numbers tell a very different story from the one reflected in our political achievements. The obvious assumption is that women simply aren’t entering the pipeline. The evidence suggests otherwise. Across professions such as finance, law, healthcare, education and human resources, women enter the workforce in significant numbers. Universities continue to produce highly qualified female graduates. Young women are ambitious, capable and increasingly well educated.
So where do they go? Somewhere between middle management and the executive floor, the pipeline begins to leak. Not because talent disappears but rather because opportunity often does.
One reason is something economists refer to rather clinically as unpaid care work. Although most of us might simply call it family life. It’s school runs, sick children, elderly parents, household chores and late homework. The endless invisible logistics that keep homes running.
A study by Morne Oosthuizen published by the University of Cape Town, Development Policy Research Unit demonstrates that women continue to shoulder more unpaid domestic and caregiving work than men yet none of these responsibilities, or should I say skills, appear on a CV in spite of the fact that they shape careers every single day.
Corporate culture still tends to reward the person who’s available at any hour, who can travel at short notice, who can stay late without rearranging family life. Productivity is increasingly measurable, but visibility often remains the currency of promotion. And this may not always be deliberate discrimination but rather the result of an outdated model of work.
But let’s say the role of unpaid care worker doesn’t apply to a particular woman. Let’s say she works hard, she shows up, she adapts, and she remains reliable. There’s still the factor of mentorship, or rather, sponsorship. The two are often confused.
There’s another element of this conversation we don’t bring up often enough: leadership itself still has an image problem. Many workplaces continue to reward leadership styles traditionally associated with confidence, certainty and decisiveness, traits that have historically been interpreted differently depending on who displays them. Where a man is decisive, a woman can still be labelled difficult. This shows the same behaviour is often judged through different lenses. And progress has certainly been made, but unconscious bias has proved remarkably adaptable.
None of this diminishes what South Africa has achieved. Our constitutional commitment to equality matters. Women’s representation in government matters. The many women leading businesses, universities, schools, hospitals, laboratories and community organisations matter enormously but individual success should never be mistaken for systemic success. Celebrating a few exceptional women should not become an excuse to ignore exceptional barriers.
The encouraging news is that none of these challenges are beyond our ability to solve. Organisations that are serious about transformation need to move beyond annual diversity statements and symbolic campaigns instead they need to ask harder questions. They need to be asking who is being prepared for succession? Who actually gets recommended when nobody is looking? And perhaps most importantly, who is quietly being overlooked?
Women’s Month is, of course, a time to celebrate but perhaps it should also be a time to reflect honestly. The glass ceiling hasn’t disappeared. It has simply become cleaner. Harder to see making it easier to pretend it no longer exists.
Real progress won’t be achieved when we can point to a handful of remarkable women who broke through despite the odds. No, this is not enough. It will be achieved when breaking through no longer requires being remarkable in the first place. Because equality isn’t about proving that women can lead, South African women have clearly been proving that for generations. The real challenge is ensuring that leadership opportunities finally catch up with that reality.
Author Biography: Meso Qhobela is the Junior Marketing and Communications Manager at ORT South Africa. She holds postgraduate qualifications in Media Studies and Mass Communication. Through strategic storytelling, she helps amplify ORT SA’s work in education, skills development and youth empowerment. She is also a committed advocate for youth and gender empowerment and actively contributes to community upliftment initiatives.
by marketing | Jul 27, 2026 | blog, News @ ORT
𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩
By Mikayla Brown
As one of thousands of young South Africans, I know the reality of the job hunt—that exhausting, heartbreaking cycle of disappointment. It is the quiet mountain of sent CVs, the endless application forms, and the emails that return unanswered. It is those rejection calls telling you that you don’t have adequate experience for the job. I’ve walked in those shoes, and I’ve heard the motivational speeches telling you not to give up hope. But sometimes, you just can’t find hope in a sea of “nos.”
As youth unemployment climbs to a staggering 60.9% according to the Statistics South Africa young people grow more eager to make a difference in their lives and the lives of those around them. As a young person who has been a part of those statistics, the fight not to be another number weigh heavily on you. Your main goal becomes clear: I want to be the headline. I want to be noticed in the workspace, and be the one who actually grows and makes a difference. Now, I know you are probably wondering if this is just another article telling you to “be different” without actually telling you how to do it.
Let’s look at the numbers. While youth unemployment in KwaZulu-Natal currently sits at 46.1%, there is a massive gap in the tech sector. According to statistics from media information and communication technologies and training authority and statistics South Africa quarterly labour survey research found, Nationally, there are thousands of open ICT positions; in fact, across the country, roughly 118,000 digital roles remain unfilled, reflecting a 37% vacancy rate. Crucially, 41,000 of those jobs are at the junior level ideal for youth. The real hiring momentum for junior roles appears to be in areas like data science, analysis, and Microsoft development. In these fields, demand has outpaced mid- and senior-level supply, forcing employers to look for cost-effective, trainable junior digital talent.
With those stats in mind, let’s look at the story of someone who decided to take a step toward reducing those numbers and testing the tech space. Sandile Mgobhozi, a young man from Durban, saw an advertisement for a Victor Daitz and ORT SA three-month program in Big Data Analytics. Recognizing a turning point when he saw one, he said to himself, “I’m going to take this chance and step out.”
Now a graduate of the program, Sandile recently returned to speak to the incoming cohort of Big Data analytics students to share the mindset required to succeed. He challenged the new students to rethink their motivations, asking them,”𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞?”
He challenged the typical answers, noting,”𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝.”
He urged the cohort to view their current opportunity as the ultimate stepping stone.”𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, “Sandile emphasized.”𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭. 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭; 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲.”
Many looking from the outside might have thought, “Why not just find something long-term? Why waste time on a short program?” But that short program was Sandile’s stepping stone to success; that is where his journey for change started. By taking pride in the program and pouring himself into the work, he eventually landed a permanent career in data analytics at Cape Union Mart.
Overcoming a mountain doesn’t happen in one giant leap; it happens in the small, deliberate steps we take every day. If you are looking to kickstart your journey, my advice is simple: take that first step, just as I did when I applied for a learnership at ORT SA.
That program did far more than teach me essential business skills, it gave me a renewed confidence in my own talents. It taught me to step out of my comfort zone and embrace new risks, because you will never truly know what you are capable of until you try.
I encourage the youth of today to actively seek out opportunities, short courses, and programs that bridge the gap to employment and real-world work experience. Look for platforms that don’t just build your skills, but also build your confidence. If you want to take that video editing course, take the leap. Partner with organizations like ORT SA that are dedicated to empowering youth. Every single step shapes your future, so start with just one.
by marketing | Jul 14, 2026 | blog, News @ ORT
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠
𝐁𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠
Every July, during Mandela Month, South Africans are asked to give 67 minutes to something bigger than ourselves. This year, perhaps we should begin by giving a few minutes to something Mandela said about unemployment when the stakes were still raw and the country still new.
On 7 May 1996, speaking at the first graduation ceremony of the ORT-STEP Institute, Nelson Mandela named the crisis directly: the country, he said, was faced with a huge unemployment problem, and education was a key ingredient in solving it, because it gives people the skills the economy needs. He was not describing a fixed number of jobs, with one group taking from another. He was describing capacity, a country emerging from apartheid with schools that had denied millions the tools to participate meaningfully in the economy. His answer wasn’t to shrink the pool of people chasing work. It was to grow the pool of people equipped to create it.
Thirty years on, that distinction has been lost in the noise of this winter’s protests against foreign nationals. The anger is not difficult to understand. Joblessness in South Africa is not a statistic on a page. It is rent unpaid, food stretched, young people sitting at home after matric, parents unable to provide, and communities losing faith that tomorrow will be better. That anger is real and deserves to be taken seriously, which is exactly why it matters where we point it.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦
South Africa’s unemployment crisis is not caused by foreign nationals. It is caused by an economy that has failed to grow fast enough, a schooling and skills system that still leaves too many young people behind, a state that too often frustrates rather than enables enterprise, and a labour market that has not created workplaces at anything close to the scale required.
The numbers are brutal. The Centre for Development and Enterprise’s 2025 report describes South Africa as having the deepest and most persistent unemployment crisis in the world. More than 12 million South Africans want work but cannot find it, and for 17 years, roughly 1,000 people have joined the unemployment queue every day. CDE’s diagnosis is not that migrants are taking jobs. It is that policy and governance failures have slowed growth to almost nothing, and without growth, no unemployment solution can work.
Stats SA’s latest labour figures confirm the scale of the disaster. In Q1 2026, the official unemployment rate stood at 32,7%. Among young people aged 15 to 24, it was 60,9%. Among those aged 25 to 34, it was 40,6%. That is the heart of the crisis: not a country with too many outsiders, but a country with too few pathways into work.
𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲
If the facts don’t support it, why does the narrative persist? Afrobarometer study by Christopher Claassen, modelling the drivers of South African xenophobia, found that poverty, relative deprivation and frustration with government were the strongest predictors of anti-foreigner sentiment, a mechanism of scapegoating, in which hopelessness looks for a visible target.
The immigration numbers do not support the scapegoating narrative either. Stats SA’s 2022 Census recorded just over 2,4 million international migrants, just below 4% of the population. That is not enough to explain a national jobs crisis of this depth.
This is not a story about who is taking jobs. It is a story about jobs never being created in the first place, at anything like the scale the population needs.
None of this means South Africa should have no immigration policy. Of course, the country needs lawful, competent, fair immigration management. Home Affairs must work. Borders must be managed. Labour laws must apply to everyone. Employers who exploit undocumented workers, or use them to undercut South African workers, should face consequences.
But vigilantism is not policy. Most people caught up in this moment are not its architects, they are frightened and out of options, looking for someone to blame in a system that has given them very little. Still, chasing people from spaza shops, threatening tenants, looting businesses or blaming African migrants for state failure will not create a single sustainable job. It will only destroy livelihoods, deepen fear, scare investors and distract us from what needs to be done.
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬
The research on migrant entrepreneurship often runs opposite to what the slogans suggest. A World Bank study found that between 1996 and 2011, immigrant workers in South Africa had a positive impact on local jobs and earnings, estimating that each immigrant worker generated approximately two jobs for local South Africans.
These positive outcomes are largely attributed to higher rates of entrepreneurial activity and self-employment among migrants compared to local residents. By engaging in the informal economy and establishing small businesses, these individuals provide vital services and generate a multiplier effect that benefits the wider community.
That does not mean every foreign-owned business is good, lawful or fair, no economy works like that. It means the broad claim that foreign nationals are the reason South Africans are unemployed is not supported by the evidence.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧
The informal economy also deserves a more honest conversation. In Q4 2025, Stats SA reported that the informal sector accounted for 21,4% of all jobs, the second-largest source of employment after the formal sector. These spaces are where millions of South Africans survive, trade, learn, hustle and build.
Instead of harassing informal traders, South Africa should be asking how to help more of them grow: how to make permits simpler, how municipalities can support trading spaces rather than destroy them, how to help spaza shops, hair salons, repair businesses, food traders and township manufacturers access finance, training, digital tools, bulk buying power and safer infrastructure.
𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝
Which brings us back to Mandela, standing at that first ORT-STEP graduation of technology and science teachers, calling the organisation’s work an imaginative and far-reaching contribution to opening doors that had been closed to most South Africans, built on a partnership of educators, business and government.
At ORT SA, that partnership is the work we see every day: building skills, supporting teachers, opening pathways for young people, and helping communities access the tools that make participation possible. It is not dramatic work. It rarely fits into a slogan. But it is the work Mandela pointed to, patient, practical, partnership-driven, capacity building.
So, this Mandela Month, the 67 minutes’ worth giving might not be a single act of service but something smaller and more sustained: mentoring a young person looking for their first opportunity, supporting a skills or enterprise programme in your community, hiring locally where you can, or simply correcting the record in a taxi rank, around a Shabbos table, in a staffroom or a boardroom. Yes, the unemployment crisis is real. Yes, the anger is understandable. Yes, the state must do its job. But the fix was never going to come from fewer foreigners, it comes from more people equipped, and more doors held open.
by marketing | Jul 8, 2026 | blog, News @ ORT
Your Story, Your Draft
By Mikayla Brown
We often hear the phrase, “You are the hero of your own story.” It sounds inspiring, but for the longest time, I saw it as just another comforting cliché adults used whenever life felt uncertain.
When I was around sixteen, approaching the final years of high school, the future felt overwhelming. It seemed like everyone around me already had an idea of what success should look like. Success meant pursuing a career that was stable, respected, and financially rewarding. I found myself surrounded by voices telling me what career path would make the most money, what would bring the most recognition, and what would make me successful in society’s eyes. For a while, I believed those voices.
I thought life had to follow a clear and predictable script. Study hard, choose the “right” career, follow the expected path, and success would naturally follow. But as I grew older and started making real decisions about my future, I began to realise something important: life does not come with a single script, and no one else should be writing mine.
Like every great story, life goes through many drafts. The final version rarely looks like the first outline we imagined. There are chapters filled with uncertainty, plot twists we never expected, and moments where we are forced to rewrite everything we thought we knew about ourselves.
At seventeen, while trying to discover who I was and what my strengths were, I struggled with one question: What do I actually want? That question changed everything.
For a long time, I believed I would pursue a career in law. It seemed like the sensible chapter to write in my story, stable, respected, and a career path that made sense to the people around me. On paper, it looked like the perfect direction. It offered security, recognition, and everything many people define as success. But deep down, I knew something felt missing. As much as law seemed like the practical choice, my passion lived elsewhere. I found myself drawn to writing, literature, storytelling, communication, and creative spaces where ideas could inspire, connect, and make an impact. Those were the things that made me feel alive.
The difficult part was not just admitting that to others, it was admitting it to myself.
Choosing not to continue pursuing law was not an easy decision. It felt like stepping away from a version of my future that everyone had already accepted for me. It meant walking away from certainty and choosing a path that felt far less predictable. What made it even harder was the doubt from others.
I heard the same concerns repeatedly: creative careers do not pay the bills, passion is not practical, and eventually I would need to choose something more “realistic.” Those words planted doubt in my mind. They made me question whether pursuing what I truly loved meant risking my future.
More than anything, I was afraid that choosing a different path would make me seem directionless or as though I lacked purpose.
At my current age, one of the biggest turning points in my journey has been the opportunity ORT SA gave me as a marketing and communications intern. ORT SA created an environment that allowed me to step into a career field I had once been too afraid to pursue. It gave me the space to grow in creative and communication-focused work and showed me that choosing a different path did not mean I had no direction.
Instead, it showed me that sometimes purpose is found in the very places we are afraid to explore. That experience taught me something powerful: purpose is not about fitting perfectly into society’s expectations. It is about discovering where your passion, strengths, and impact align.
My dad gave me a piece of advice that has stayed with me through every moment of doubt. He said, “Do what you love to do, and it won’t feel like a job.” Those words became a reminder for me whenever uncertainty crept in. That taught me that success is not only about earning a living; it is also about waking up every day feeling fulfilled by what you do. It is about knowing that your work reflects who you are and what matters to you.
Writing your own story starts with one simple choice, picking up the pen, do not settle for the pen in someone else hands just because they claim it writes better. Choose your own. Write in colours that reflect your personality, your passions, and your purpose. There will be rough drafts, mistakes, and chapters that do not go according to plan. But that is what makes your story real. The beauty of life is not in perfection, it is in authenticity. One of my favourite quotes by Nelson Mandela says, “It always seems impossible until it is done.” Sometimes the chapter ahead may feel impossible to write. The dream may feel too big, too risky, or too far out of reach. But growth often begins the moment you stop allowing fear to hold the pen. So, as you continue writing your story, ask yourself one important question, what do I want to be remembered for?
Do not let fear write your ending before your story has truly begun. Pick up your pen, trust your voice, and keep writing because no one can tell your story better than you.
