In 2023, public universities enrolled 258 778 first-time students. Demand is intense; for example, the University of Johannesburg received 358 992 applications for just 10 500 first-year spaces in 2025.

A substantial proportion of these new students come from economically disadvantaged backgrounds. The National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) is often the only key to unlocking post-school education. The scheme supports students from families earning less than R350 000 a year and has a target of 850 000 students. It is supposed to cover fees, accommodation, a living allowance, transport and learning materials.

Yet for many rural students, this key fails to turn the lock.

The number of students from rural areas who secure university placements cannot be determined. Neither the Council on Higher Education nor the Department of Higher Education systematically tracks students’ geographic origins. But what research does show is that students from rural areas face challenges beyond financial constraints.

My research on higher education access and learning experiences, particularly among marginalised students, has explored the reasons and consequences.

The conversation around financial aid rightly focuses on administrative crises: devastating payment delays and operational failures that erode trust. These are human catastrophes. But I’ve found that for rural students, these problems are only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath lies a deeper web of challenges.

Financial aid is crucial but it cannot compensate for systemic disadvantages that begin long before students reach campus and persist throughout their studies.

My research, involving in-depth interviews with rural students, shows the “hidden costs” they bear. Their struggle begins with limited access to information. This constrains their educational choices. Then they may not feel really comfortable to participate in the classroom and make social connections. And their financial situation influences both academic performance and social belonging.

Even when rural students graduate, many describe feeling they have survived higher education rather than thrived in it.

The experiences they shared with me reveal how these challenges interconnect throughout their university journey. Their stories also point to ways of improving rural students’ participation in higher education.

Listening to rural students

My qualitative study consisted of in-depth interviews and focus group discussions with 18 rural students (10 of them female), aged 19-25 at a university in Johannesburg. All participants came from former homeland areas across four provinces – the Eastern Cape, KwaZulu-Natal, Limpopo and Mpumalanga – a pattern reflecting apartheid’s enduring geographic legacy. They were studying fields ranging from education to engineering; 13 of the 18 were first-generation university students, and all were Black African. Their demographic profile was typical of deeply rural students accessing higher education through programmes like NSFAS.

The deliberate selection criteria and consistency of their experiences reveals systemic patterns.

One of the participants, Philip (all names have been changed) from Limpopo, described the sheer physical distance of his home from university:

I pass Polokwane (a city 320km from Johannesburg) and go deep to the rural villages until Giyani (a small town over 150km further on) … then from Giyani I have to catch a taxi to my village … you are far away from universities.

While urban students attend open days to learn about the courses on offer and careers, those in remote villages are left in the dark. As one participant, Terry, observed:

During open day for UJ (University of Johannesburg) … it’s mostly model C schools.“ (These are better resourced high schools which were reserved for white learners during apartheid.) I have never seen someone (there) from rural background.

This isolation limits career awareness to visible rural professions like teaching and nursing.

Sef’s story is telling:

I didn’t know anything about the courses offered … I only know teaching and these professions that you see in the village.

After a costly false start, she found her path to engineering only through a chance family conversation.

In South Africa, many students scrape together a registration fee, gambling that full funding will materialise. And without guidance on accommodation deadlines, they might arrive in the city to find university residences full and be forced into expensive or unsafe private housing.

Jane explained:

We will come and look for accommodation in February … When we get there, we find that the residence is already full.

While universities technically provide accommodation information, it is often buried in lengthy online registration documents that assume students have reliable internet access and familiarity with university processes.

The result is a financial strain from day one. For students like Kate, who was mugged commuting from distant, off-campus housing, the consequences are academic and psychological:

At the end of the year, I didn’t pass that well and as a result I lost my sponsor.

Upon arrival, they face a second battle: cultural and geographic alienation. They enter a space privileging urban, middle-class norms. Participants spoke of being teased for their accents and dress.

As Ann from the Eastern Cape put it:

Nobody cares … you get to know people from other tribes, people from other races … some of things they do you don’t understand.

Language becomes a profound barrier to participation. Philip shared:

I would want to participate … but eish! English … I’m not confident enough.

The curriculum itself can feel alienating, with examples drawn from unfamiliar urban contexts. Terry, an engineering student, noted:

Sometimes they teach about some events you have never heard of … that’s where they kill us.

It takes more than cash

This brings us back to NSFAS. Its administrative failures hit rural students hardest.

For a student who barely registered, a delayed allowance is a crisis. It means missing lectures, relying on food parcels, and impossible choices between education and supporting families.

Ann described the strain:

Since January we’re still waiting … Sometimes I don’t have money to come to school. I have to miss lectures.

The funding, when it comes, doesn’t cover the true cost. It ignores higher travel costs, expensive data to compensate for remoteness, and the burden of unexpected private accommodation.

The higher education system has focused too long on the narrow goal of access: getting students through the gate. True equity is about ensuring they can thrive as peers inside. The current student financing model is a blunt remedy: it provides cash but leaves the underlying structures of exclusion untouched.

How to change it

My research suggests some steps that could help rural students.

Fix the fundamentals with rural students in mind: Students need a competent, reliable financial aid scheme. Payment timelines must be guaranteed, with emergency support for rural students during delays.

Early outreach: Universities and government must take information to deep rural areas through mobile career services and application support long before final high school exams that determine university entrance.

Fund the full experience: Bursary calculations must be nuanced to cover the real, higher costs borne by rural students, including travel, data and safe accommodation.

Create culturally inclusive campuses: Universities must actively combat assumptions that rural students are "underprepared” or “lacking” essential skills. They can do this through staff training, peer mentorship, and curricula that value different kinds of knowledge.

The dreams of rural students are stifled by a system blind to their reality. Ensuring timely funding is the bare minimum. They need a system that doesn’t just let them in but truly welcomes them and sets them up for success.

Written by Hellen Agumba, Senior lecturer, University of Johannesburg

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.