I am writing this from the road, somewhere between one South African community that has been waiting for decades for houses and the next stop on a 1,600km walk from Durban to Cape Town.

Last week, two letters arrived from Harvard University inviting me to join its Master in Design Engineering and Master in Real Estate programmes. But when I opened them, I was not thinking first about Cambridge, Massachusetts. I was thinking about a mud-brick house in KwaZulu-Natal and the woman who taught me what home means.

Four weeks ago, my aunt died. When I was six, I lived with her in that house for three years. It was there that I learnt that home is not simply a roof, it was where I felt safe. It is where a person belongs. Years earlier, government officials had painted a number on her door to mark her place on the waiting list for an RDP house. It was meant to signal hope. It said: your turn is coming. Her turn never came. She died still waiting.

This story is personal, but it is not unique. It reflects a broader South African truth. Our housing crisis is not only about the number of homes still needed. It is also about the systems that block people before building can even begin. Families are trapped between a state that cannot deliver fast enough and a private market...