Campus Catalyst

You step onto the bustling campus of Stellenbosch University, the weight of uncertainty pressing on your shoulders. This moment was supposed to mark the beginning of something great—a new chapter filled with knowledge, independence, and endless possibilities. You imagined attending your first lecture, meeting new friends, and immersing yourself in a world where your future finally feels within reach. But instead, before you can even enter a classroom, you’re met with a roadblock that threatens to tear everything away from you before it even begins: Registration fees. <img src="https://scontent-cpt1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/o1/v/t0/f2/m340/AQPfmrc12_tzWxESDCb6EbutGZNqnNiMaSFKliPwFNSGzmjeoBVW6HsPqntjC7647aGVqSHRGaUieGmRqG3lM2Au9XgkQ8T5mtbjWd1--wXDil1jjenDiEub4CRuKJKXo7121vkwxpT1ua8h7k7HNfvSm5VrlQ.jpeg?_nc_ht=scontent-cpt1-1.xx.fbcdn.net&_nc_cat=105&_nc_oc=AdlVUJ8xhGeiy8w3YbZ7PmwQckE3bhS0SzYV-r4ov0KS9RvBO6w3rTPPTDzUqGc5MVY&ccb=9-4&oh=00_AYF74-k6xeqxZtCHvbz_heXRE2PTUWPXCffB-f-clpERIQ&oe=67E4F8E8&_nc_sid=5b3566"width="300" height "300" ></a> (text-color:cyan) [[The Fight for Access<-Continue]]

R5,000. Money you don't have. Money that shouldn't stand between you and your education. You check your phone for an update on your NSFAS application—rejected. Not just you, but hundreds of students across campus find themselves in the same impossible position. Brilliant minds, eager to learn, shut out of the very system meant to uplift them. Doors to lecture halls remain closed, not because of a lack of ambition or ability, but because of a price tag. Without immediate payment, your academic career is over before it even begins. You feel the frustration bubbling inside you—how can something as fundamental as education be a privilege rather than a right? <img src="https://scontent-cpt1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/o1/v/t0/f2/m340/AQOZjqD3PH7nSBCXzVXShHrk-yLtxp8o-rd_QeuA5ehlMqtZsJK4rSQJdAdIXtVnz0_R6U6LwTFLTz1-k_MgCjVecUQoLUw5QSjQigi6FhgxwycdQ9gVf9jNKkZpui8CIpHxZaQQoz9zftLTmHOM5-imgpCy_g.jpeg?_nc_ht=scontent-cpt1-1.xx.fbcdn.net&_nc_cat=101&_nc_oc=AdmWKm2A3QtIb6GVl_wJLjNfYYu70oHh__74VAvpxui83jY1rd3EOEMnW8EYRnDX_LY&ccb=9-4&oh=00_AYEkYgxUvc6fMr4PWhMn_kpgNlOpuUdxQL5hSytKLpdg-Q&oe=67E4F61C&_nc_sid=5b3566"width="300" height "300" ></a> (text-color:cyan) [[The Choice is Yours <-Next]]

Then, amidst the silence of shattered dreams, a voice rises. The Student Representative Council (SRC) refuses to accept this injustice. They call for action—a movement, a stand, a collective demand for what is fair. A peaceful protest is organized, an opportunity to fight not just for yourself, but for every student who has ever been told “no” because they couldn’t afford to say “yes.” The energy on campus shifts. Students gather. Voices rise. The air crackles with determination. You know how protests go. Someone always ends up hurt. You find yourself in a difficult position. Do you risk your safety and stand up for yourself? Or do you choose your safety first and stay silent? (text-color:cyan) [[Join the Movement ]] [[Don't Join ]]

You refuse to stay silent while students are denied their right to education. The protest is growing, and you step forward, ready to make an impact. But how will you shape this movement? (text-color:cyan) [[Become a catalyst for change]]

You choose to stand with your fellow students and become involved in the protest. The decision sets you on a path of activism, where every choice influences the movement's success, your personal reputation, and even your academic future. Will you take a leading role, strategizing with student organizations and mobilizing support? Will you opt for peaceful demonstrations or escalate tactics when demands are ignored? (text-color:cyan) [[Address the Media]] [[Take a more proactive stance]]

As the chants of protest echo across campus, you keep your head down. While others organize sit-ins and marches, you spend your days searching for ways to pay the R5,000 fee. Jobs are scarce, and crowdfunding feels impossible with so many others facing the same crisis. Still, you hold on to the hope that if you work hard enough, you’ll find a way through—without risking everything. One afternoon, while sitting in the campus library, you notice a student activist approaching. Their face is familiar—you’ve seen them leading protests outside the administration building. They sit across from you, their voice low but direct. "We’re fighting for all of us," they say. "Where do you stand?" Their question lingers in the air. This is your chance to define where you fit in the growing movement—but how honest are you willing to be? (text-color:cyan) [[Lie and say you will join later]] [[Tell the truth on where you stand]]

You step forward, addressing the restless crowd. Cameras from student journalists capture your every word. This isn't just a protest—it’s a fight for dignity. You quickly become a recognized figure in the movement, liaising with student organizations, rallying support, and drafting formal demands to the administration. But with visibility comes risk... (text-color:cyan) [[Passively plead for justice]] [[Publicly call out the rector]]

Plans to shut down key university operations are discussed—blocking exams, occupying lecture halls, even disrupting high-profile university events and blocking roads and access to main campus. Do you participate? (text-color:cyan) [[Protest in lecture halls & block roads]] [[Move onto blocking roads]]

The best way to deal with conflict in politics is to take a passive approach right? You and other students decide to address the media. You call on students who are not affected to adopt a position of support for you and your peers and comrades. You call on the rector of Stellenbosch University, and other staff in authoirty and plead for them to address and resolve this matter. A few students join you in this protest. They aren't affected and this matter may not concern them. But a sense of community becomes so prominent in this moment. Everyone standing together to fight for what is right. However, your cries aren't heard. Radio silence... This angers students, what now? (text-color:cyan) [[Next]]

The university won't listen but maybe they'll listen if their academic programmes are put to a halt. You and a group of students start pecefully protesting in lecture halls which in turn puts tests and lessons to a halt, demanding that your voice be heard. Students join you, some are angry that their learning is being disrupted. This is a peaceful way to have your voice heard isnt it? (text-color:cyan) [[Continue]]

Some students commute to campus. This is the perfect opportunity to make their lives difficult and block the whole of Victoria street. Students are chanting, dancing, flaunting their #FEESMUSTFALL posters. This goes on for hours until students finally decide to rest and have lunch amongst themselves while still sitting in the middle of the street. The police show up... Suddenly stun grenades are being thrown, students are running and crying. For students who live in rural areas, this is their everyday reality. Which is why they decided to attend Stellenbosch in the first place, to experience something other than their normal. No one broke a window, or even caused such a big disruption that the police had to step in. (text-color:cyan) [[Continue]]

Fuck it. You decide you have nothing to lose and you grab everyones attention to hear your cries directed to the rector. "We are not asking for favors—we are demanding our right to education!" Your voice rings out, steady and bold. "How can you stand there while thousands of us face exclusion because we cannot afford what should be a basic right?" Murmurs ripple through the crowd. You see the rector’s expression tighten, but you press on. "Students are struggling, but instead of helping us, you ignore our voices. Will you face us, or will you hide behind policies that strip us of our futures?" (text-color:cyan) [[Next]]

The Martyr: You are expelled but become a legendary figure in student activism, inspiring future generations.

The Reformist: You successfully push for policy change, securing emergency financial aid and setting a precedent for future students.

What's a small white lie anyway? You force a smile. "I’m with you," you say quickly. "I’m just trying to sort out a few things first—I’ll join soon." The student nods, but there’s doubt in their eyes. They hand you a flyer for the next mass protest and leave without another word. Over the next few weeks, your lie pulls you in two directions. On one hand, you remain on the sidelines—searching for jobs, emailing faculty for help, and exhausting every possible avenue for funding. On the other, the protest grows louder, and you feel the weight of your unspoken decision. (text-color:cyan) [[Arrange a meeting with the rector]] [[Simply do absolutely nothing]]

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. "I’m not sure protesting is for me," you admit. "I need to focus on finding a way to pay the fee—I can’t afford to risk everything." The student’s expression hardens slightly, but they nod. "I get it," they say. "But not everyone has the luxury to wait." Without another word, they stand and rejoin a group of activists outside. You return to your search, but something about their words sticks with you. Every day, you witness the movement growing—students handing out pamphlets, leading marches, and demanding justice while you struggle to make ends meet alone. (text-color:cyan) [[Pursue your backup plan]]

You double down on your original path, choosing to seek assistance directly from a faculty member. Maybe there’s a way to resolve this quietly—without protests or conflict. But as you walk to the admin building a group of students walk your way. Great. Confrontation. Just what you needed, right.. (text-color:cyan) [[What now?]]

They somehow manage to convince to to join the mass meeting. you do not haveto be an activist and protest, but meeting might hold some important information regarding how this issue can somehow be resolved. But then, students start protesting at the meeting, before the SRC president could get a chance to speak. This is exactly what you've been trying to avoid. (text-color:cyan) [[Oh no]]

The Burnout: The movement drains you, you struggle to keep going, realizing the cost of activism.

You stand in front of the tall wooden door, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d rehearsed what you were going to say—pleading your case, asking for a chance—but the office is eerily quiet. A receptionist glances up briefly from their computer, unimpressed by your presence. "He’s not here," they say flatly, already turning back to their screen. "If you want an appointment, email his secretary. But he’s busy these days—with… everything happening." You clench your fists at their dismissive tone. Every moment that passes without a solution pulls you closer to the edge. How are you supposed to sort out your financial struggles if the person with the power to help is nowhere to be found? Outside the office window, you hear faint echoes of the student protest building momentum. You’re running out of time—and options. (text-color:cyan) [[Leave in frustration]]

The protest is officially over, and registration fees have been lifted—what a victory for the protestors. Students flood the campus with cheers and celebration. Social media buzzes with triumphant posts: “We did it!” “Education is a right, not a privilege!” The SRC is hailed as heroes, their names etched into the university’s history. You should feel relieved. The financial barrier that once seemed impossible is gone—but instead of pride, there’s a heavy knot in your stomach. (text-color:cyan) [[What is it?]]

You sigh, the weight of disappointment settling heavy on your shoulders. What’s the point of waiting? No one in power seems to care about your struggle—or the struggles of the other students. If the system won’t help you, you’ll help yourself. Pushing open the heavy door, you step out of the administration building, leaving behind the echoes of distant protests. You tell yourself you’re done wasting time—you need real solutions. In the following days, your focus shifts entirely to survival. You scour job boards, applying for anything that promises a paycheck. Late nights become the norm as you juggle part-time shifts at a local café while trying to keep up with assignments. The exhaustion is constant—but so is your determination. Meanwhile, the protest swells. Social media floods with images of students demanding justice. You see their faces—some familiar, others strangers—standing together while you clock in and out, counting the hours until your next paycheck. You wonder if they think about you. Do they remember the ones who couldn’t afford to march? One day, after weeks of searching, you finally catch a break. A local community organization offers a small scholarship for students in financial distress. It’s not much—but it’s enough. Enough to cover what you need to stay enrolled. Relief washes over you. You made it. On your own. (text-color:cyan) [[Carry on]]

Turns out, while you were quietly trying to figure out how to pay your fees, the truth caught up with you. The students you lied to—saying you’d join later—discovered you never intended to. And now, your absence during the hardest moments hasn’t gone unnoticed. You feel the shift immediately. Once-friendly faces barely acknowledge you. Conversations cut short when you approach. When you enter a lecture hall, whispers trail behind you. "It’s easy for them to celebrate now." "Where were they when we needed everyone?" Even those who once reached out to help now treat you with cold indifference. You tried to stay out of the fight—but in doing so, you lost the trust of those who stood up for something bigger. One day, you catch sight of a familiar face—the student who first asked for your stance. They meet your gaze across the courtyard, but there’s no warmth left. Just disappointment. You stay enrolled and finish your semester, but the distance between you and your peers never fades. You walk away with your education—but lose a community that once stood for something greater. In the end, you’re left to wonder: Was staying on the sidelines worth the cost? (text-color:cyan) [[Was it worth it?]]

The Bystander: You never engage and manage to continue your studies, but the movement’s outcome makes you question your role in systemic change.

Yet, as the protest reaches its peak, you can’t ignore a nagging feeling—an ache deeper than exhaustion. You see headlines about student leaders being suspended. The vice-chancellor’s office remains silent. While you found a way through, others are still locked out. At night, when the campus quiets down, you wonder: If everyone walked away like I did, would anything ever change? (text-color:cyan) [[Was it worth it?]]

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