IN HIS early years there was little to suggest that Taddy Blecher would end up in Johannesburg's inner city, surrounded by youngsters from poor backgrounds. An actuary turned management consultant, Mr Blecher first stepped into a township by mistake. “I was terrified and thought I was going to die,” he remembers. In 1995 he was on the point of emigrating to America, but at the last minute he decided to stay and make a difference. He spent the next four years teaching transcendental meditation in township schools. This was quite a stretch from his upbringing as a “white Jewish guy in Johannesburg”, but he describes it as the best time of his life. He and three partners then started CIDA City Campus, an almost-free business university for students who cannot afford mainstream higher education. (Students are charged only $21 per month in tuition, and some also receive additional financial help.) In a country where poverty and poor skills remain endemic, he has become a local hero.

Mr Blecher, a Harry Potter lookalike with contagious enthusiasm, is passionate about education. The apartheid system deliberately provided sub-standard schooling to the country's black majority; today, good education is still beyond the reach of many poor South Africans. In addition, too few manage to finish high school, and many of those who make it to university drop out, often because they cannot afford it. “It drives me crazy,” says Mr Blecher, becoming agitated. “We are throwing away our people.” As a result, masses of unskilled South Africans cannot find jobs, while firms complain of a crippling lack of skilled people. Decades of apartheid also weakened any spirit of entrepreneurship. The government's “black economic empowerment” policy seeks to redress the economic injustices of apartheid by nudging companies to bring in black shareholders and appoint more black employees, managers, board members and suppliers. But critics point out that this has created a small elite of dealmakers and passive minority shareholders rather than much-needed black entrepreneurs.

Believing that a new way of thinking about education was needed, Mr Blecher decided to start a free university. “Education needs to be holistic,” he says with conviction. “The school system is not producing a happy society, and people are not awake in the way they should be.” Besides providing tertiary education to youngsters who could not afford to attend existing universities, he hoped to help people find direction in their lives (Mr Blecher is an advocate of transcendental meditation in this regard) and help to transform communities. “My deepest interest”, he explains, “is to help people realise how great they are.”

Mr Blecher turned to local companies for help. A bank made its old office building in downtown Johannesburg available free. Mr Blecher's former employer gave him a desk and a phone line at its offices. CIDA City Campus opened its doors in 2000. Today 80% of CIDA's income comes from donations, amounting to about 50m rand ($7m) a year. Sponsors include Dell, JPMorgan, Sir Richard Branson and Oprah Winfrey, plus an impressive list of local firms. Students help to run the school, providing them with experience and keeping costs down. Many teachers are professionals who offer their services free.

Today about 1,500 students are enrolled at CIDA. The business school offers a general Bachelor in Business Administration (BBA) course, as well as practical specialities such as information technology, construction and entrepreneurship for those who qualify. In July CIDA's School of Investments opened its doors, complete with a simulated trading room. But the central philosophy is to provide a lot more than education. Mr Blecher describes CIDA as “a whole ecosystem created to support kids.” Many students come from very poor rural backgrounds, and moving to Johannesburg means a huge adjustment and often extreme financial hardship. Some start with a residential one-year foundation course to plug academic holes before enrolling in the BBA degree. Counsellors are provided and a wardrobe is also at hand for those who need to smarten up for job interviews.

Students are also required to volunteer for community work when they go back home during the holidays. Some teach, while others mentor teenage orphans responsible for looking after younger siblings. But all of them have to give something back to their communities, furthering Mr Blecher's dream of healing South Africa. Often the first members of their families to go to university, graduates then step into a life that was previously out of reach. The former actuary points out that CIDA's graduates will collectively earn 150m rand in salaries this year, which by his calculations amounts to a net present value of 5 billion rand over their 40-year careers.

Mr Blecher's odd mixture of new-age earnestness and hard work has made CIDA a beacon of hope, both at home and abroad. As well as adding further specialist courses, CIDA hopes to open new schools elsewhere in South Africa. But behind its success linger some concerns. CIDA remains intimately associated with its founder and chief executive, and there are questions about whether it would survive without him. Though it is no longer mandatory, the exact role of transcendental meditation in the curriculum remains controversial. It still raises suspicions and tensions among some students, staff and donors. CIDA's fast growth has overwhelmed its administrative systems. And although the specialist degrees are by most accounts excellent, some employers are said to have been disappointed by the general BBA graduates they have hired. The quality of education will need to improve if CIDA's degree is to compare with that of mainstream universities. There is no shortage of goodwill or ability within the school to sort these things out. But sorted out they must be, if CIDA is to live up to its inspiring vision.