Thirteen Cents (2000)

by K. Sello Duiker

A Cape Town spaza at dawn.

K. Sello Duiker’s Thirteen Cents (2000) is an unnerving depiction of life as a street rat but just rattling off its sordid attributes [1] doesn’t do it justice. It’s not a heavy story. As Azure (a-zoo-ray), its 12-year-old narrator, would say: “it’s not like that.”

I can’t phone my relatives. They don’t care about me anyway. And I don’t miss them. I don’t miss them because they never gave me anything. And that’s all right, at least they didn’t give me bullshit like Cape Town grown-ups. I feel better when I say this. (pg. 105)

I had to look up a fair few slang and Afrikaans terms to follow along. Here’s my list:

In more than a few ways, Thirteen Cents follows the same arc as J.M. Coetzee’s Life & Times of Michael K. A mentally incompetent youth loses his parents and has his naiveté taken advantage of by opportunists, black and white, around him. In response he journeys up a mountain and braves starvation to hold a rapturous communion with the spirit world.

For me, Thirteen Cents is the sharper novel, abstract at times but never foggy like Michael K. Nonetheless, you can’t go wrong with either — if you’re looking for a fucked-up story from a fucked-up place, the Rainbow Nation rarely disappoints.

[1] Sordid attributes including orphanhood, prostitution, destitution, pedophilia, drug abuse, rape, coercion, loneliness, and racial tension.