(Afrikaans)—guys
oupa (Afrikaans)—grandfather
outie (Afrikaans, slang)—wiseguy
Pagad mense—PAGAD—People against Gangsterism and Drugs, Islamic vigilante group in Cape Town
phuza-face (isiZulu, slang)—an alcoholic
piel (Afrikaans, slang)—dick, penis
poes (Afrikaans, derogatory)—cunt
skyf (Afrikaans)—cigarette, puff, joint
spaza (slang)—small convenience store in township or
rural area
stop / zol / pilletjie (Afrikaans slang)—a joint
suig (Afrikaans)—suck
thula (isiZulu)—quiet or hush
Vaalie mense (Afrikaans slang)—(white) people from the old Transvaal province
veldskoene—(Afrikaans) usually handmade soft shoes made from untanned leather, field shoes
wena—(isiXhosa) you
windgat—(Afrikaans) windbag, someone who talks and boasts too much
yessus—from Jesus, meaning damn
voetsek—fuck
Works Cited
Attwell, David. Rewriting Modernity: Studies in Black South African Literary History. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2006.
Barnard, Rita. Apartheid and Beyond: South African Writers and the Politics of Place. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Chapman, Michael. Southern African Literatures. Scottsville: University of Natal Press, 2003. First published 1996 by Longman.
Cornwell, Gareth, Dirk Klopper, and Craig MacKenzie. The Columbia Guide to South African Literature in English Since 1945. New York: Columbia University Press, 2009.
Duiker, K. Sello. The Hidden Star. Cape Town: Kwela, 2006.
———. “Interview with Bafana Khumalo.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 22–23.
———. “Interview with Victor Lackay (courtesy of co-author Carl Collison): ‘I’m a Travelling Salesman.’” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 19–21.
———. “‘The Last Word’: Sello Duiker.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 27–30.
———. “One Breezy Night Late in November.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 62.
———. The Quiet Violence of Dreams. Cape Town: Kwela, 2001.
———. Thirteen Cents. Cape Town: David Philip, 2000.
Ezeliora, Osita. “The Novels of K. Sello Duiker and Phaswane Mpe.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 164–75.
Mphahlele, Es’kia. Es’kia Continued: Literary Appreciation, Education, African Humanism and Culture, Social Consciousness. Johannesburg: Stainbank, 2004.
Mzamane, Mbulelo Vizikhungo, ed. Words Gone Two Soon: A Tribute to Phaswane Mpe and K. Sello Duiker. Pretoria: Umgangatho, 2005.
Ndebele, Njabulo S. “The Rediscovery of the Ordinary: Some New Writings in South Africa.” Journal of Southern African Studies 12, no. 2 (1986): 143–57. Reprinted in Njabulo S. Ndebele, Rediscovery of the Ordinary: Essays on South African Literature and Culture, 31–54. Scottsville: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2006.
Oliphant, Andries Walter. “A Changing Topography: Tracing Some Recent Developments in South African Writing.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 230–50.
Raditlhalo, Sam. “‘The Travelling Salesman’: A Tribute to K. Sello Duiker: 1974–2005.” Feminist Africa 5 (2005): 96–104.
Rive, Richard. “Dagga-smoker’s Dream.” In Advance, Retreat: Selected Short Stories, 5–9. Cape Town: David Philip, 1989. First published 1983.
———. “Rain.” In Advance, Retreat: Selected Short Stories, 11–19. Cape Town: David Philip, 1989. First published 1983.
Samuelson, Meg. “Crossing Borders with Words: Sello Duiker, Phaswane Mpe and Yvonne Vera.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 196–201.
Simonsen, Mikkel. “Realising the Gift: K. S. Duiker’s Shades of Identity.” Unpublished Honours paper, University of Stellenbosch, 2004.
Tamale, Sylvia, ed. African Sexualities: A Reader. Nairobi: Pambazuka, 2011.
van der Merwe, Annari. “Tribute.” In Mzamane, Words Gone Two Soon, 5–14.
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Viljoen, Shaun. “Non-Racialism Remains a Fiction: Richard Rive’s ‘Buckingham Palace,’ District Six and K. Sello Duiker’s The Quiet Violence of Dreams.” English Academy Review 18, no. 1 (2001): 46–53.
1
My name is Azure. Ah-zoo-ray. That’s how you say it. My mother gave me that name. It’s the only thing I have left from her.
I have blue eyes and a dark skin. I’m used to people staring at me, mostly grown-ups. When I was at school children used to beat me up because I had blue eyes. They hated me for it. But now children just take one look at me and then they either say something nasty or smile. But grown-ups, they pierce you with their stare.
I live alone. The streets of Sea Point are my home. But I’m almost a man, I’m nearly thirteen years old. That means I know where to find food that hasn’t seen too many ants and flies in Camps Bay or Clifton. That is if there aren’t any policemen patrolling the streets. They don’t like us much. Or if I fancy some fruit then I go to the station where the coloured fruit-sellers work. I don’t like them much because they are always yelling at us to move away. Most of them throw away fruit instead of giving it to us. But I’m not stupid. I know that they put funny things in the dustbins where we go scratching for food. I can smell their evil. I know a few kids who are under their evil spell. They make them walk the night spreading their evil. And some of them are so deep into their evil they can change shape. They can become rats or pigeons. Pigeons are also rats, they just have wings. And once you become a rat they make you do ugly things in sewers and in the dark. It’s true. It happens. I’ve seen it.
But like I said I’m almost a man. I can take care of myself. “Julle fokken mannetjies moet skool toe gaan,” the fruit-sellers yell. It’s easy for them to say that. I lost my parents three years ago. Papa was bad with money and got Mama in trouble. The day they killed him I was away at school. I came back to our shack only to find them in a pool of blood. That was three years ago. That was the last time I went to school.
I walk a lot. My feet are tough and rough underneath. But I’m clean. Every morning I take a bath at the beach. I wash with sea water. Sometimes I use a sponge or if I can’t find one I use an old rag. It’s just as good. Then I rinse off the sea water at the tap. It’s not that bad washing with cold water. It’s like anything – you get used to it.
My friend Bafana can’t believe that I saw my dead parents and didn’t freak out. But I told him. I cried and then it was over. No one was going to take care of me. He’s still a laaitie, Bafana, only nine years old and he’s on the streets. And he is naughty. He has a home to go back to in Langa but he chooses to roam the streets. He likes sniffing glue and smoking buttons when he has money. I don’t like that stuff, it makes my head sore. But I like smoking ganja, quite a lot actually. Now Bafana when he smokes glue and buttons he becomes an animal, really. He starts grunting and doesn’t speak much and he messes his pants. So whenever I see him smoking that stuff I beat him. I once beat him so badly he had to go to Groote Schuur to get stitched. I don’t like that stuff. It just does terrible things to your body.
I sleep in Sea Point near the swimming pool because it’s the safest place to be at night. In town there are too