The wails of grieving mothers echoed through Vanderbijlpark as families recounted the final, innocent moments of the 12 learners whose lives were brutally extinguished in a horrific scholar transport accident on the Golden Highway.

What began as a hopeful Monday morning commute turned into a national mourning. Preliminary investigations reveal a sickeningly familiar cause: the driver of the school van was attempting to overtake multiple vehicles when he collided head-on with a truck. Impatience, once again, was the thief of life.

Gone Too Soon

Nomthethuleli Dys, who lost both a nephew and a grandchild, spoke through tears of a Sunday filled with church and laughter. "They were gentle boys," she whispered. 18-year-old Pheetio Motaung and 7-year-old Lesego Sefatsa never made it to class. They became statistics in a transport sector that often treats children like cargo.

• The Crash: The impact was catastrophic. 11 died at the scene; one more succumbed in hospital. The sheer force of the collision left the van a mangled wreck, a tomb for the dreams of 12 families.
• The Outcry: South Africa is reeling. The government has promised an inquiry, but promises do not bury the dead. The focus is now on the regulation of "scholar transport," often run by private operators with little oversight.

A Mirror to Kenya

This tragedy strikes a painful chord in Kenya. We remember the Salgaa black spot; we remember the bus tragedies that have claimed our own children. The "Golden Highway" could easily be the Nairobi-Nakuru highway.

The cause—reckless overtaking—is a plague on African roads. Whether it is a matatu in Kiambu or a school van in Gauteng, the culture of impunity on the tarmac is identical. This disaster is a wake-up call for our own NTSA. Safety belts, speed governors, and driver vetting are not bureaucratic hurdles; they are the difference between a child coming home and a parent visiting a morgue.

The Empty Desks

As the sun sets on the Vaal, 12 desks remain empty. The community is broken. The anger is palpable. But mostly, there is the silence—the terrible silence of children who will never laugh, play, or learn again.