The Bildungsroman and Nation-Building in K. Sello Duiker’s Thirteen Cents

"Bildungsroman" is derived from German and translates to "novel of formation." Originating in nineteenth-century German literary studies, the Bildungsroman is a genre that traditionally focuses on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist, often tracing their journey from childhood to adulthood. Nation-building refers to the social, political, and economic development of a nation.

Ha-Eun Grace Kim notes that "due to its focus on development, this form [the Bildungsroman] has often been linked with nation-building" (70). This connection makes sense, as an individual's growth is greatly influenced by their environment. In this essay, I will explore Kim’s statement in relation to Thirteen Cents by K. Sello Duiker. The protagonist’s experiences can be seen as a microcosm of the nation’s development, with the adult characters around him serving as symbols of the systemic issues that continue to plague post-apartheid South Africa. In linking the characteristics of the Bildungsroman to nation-building, I will examine specific events in the novel and relate them to the broader development of post-apartheid South Africa. 

K. Sello Duiker, who studied Journalism at Rhodes University, approached Thirteen Cents through an investigative lens. Immersing himself in the world of Cape Town’s street children for three weeks, he drew directly from real experiences, such as the sexual exploitation of homeless youth, to craft the novel's harsh realities. 

Duiker himself recounts the story of Sammy, a street child he encountered: "And then one day we found Sammy. What happened? A nice gentleman took care of Sammy, gave him food and a place to sleep. In exchange for perverted games. After three weeks, Sammy had enough" (De Vries 23). While a work of fiction, Thirteen Cents reflects many brutal truths about post-apartheid South Africa.

Cape Town’s contradictions make it a powerful backdrop for Duiker’s exploration of early democratic South Africa's complexities. Often referred to as the “Mother City” and celebrated for its opulence and tourism, Cape Town mirrors the idealised image of democratic South Africa’s “Rainbow Nation.” However, this simplified view overlooks the pervasive crime, violence, exploitation, and homelessness that plague other parts of the city. As David J. Callenberger notes, Duiker’s novel exposes the amnesia of the wealthy and contrasts it with Azure's daily trauma, offering a particularly graphic version of Cape Town’s heterotopia (93). Similarly, Steffan Horowitz states that Thirteen Cents is "a story about and for a generation of South African youth struggling to make sense of a world that is supposed to hold new and boundless opportunities for them when in reality the situation appears to be quite the opposite. It is meant to tear the blinders of the rhetoric of a ‘New South Africa’ and ‘Rainbow Nation’ from readers’ eyes" (Horowitz).

Thirteen Cents both conforms to and subverts the traditional Bildungsroman. While the novel traces Azure’s psychological journey, his development is hindered by his cruel environment. Unlike classic Bildungsromans that unfold over an extended period, Azure’s story spans roughly one year, from age twelve to thirteen. The countless brutal experiences Azure faces in his compressed timeline highlight and emphasise the issues within his environment. Although Azure claims he is “almost a man” and can “take care of [himself]” (Duiker 2), he remains a minor by the story’s end. After asserting independence, his repeated use of "but"(Duiker 1) reveals his fragile bravado, exposing that he has not fully transitioned into adulthood.

As Amanda Yolisa Kenqu explains, “Azure’s narrative and narration provide the illusion of progression in terms of chronology and his growing self-sufficiency. However, this is undermined by various incidents of abuse in the novel which trigger trauma-ridden memories of his past, testifying to the notion that the present is haunted by the spectres of his unresolved past” (72). Moreover, the lack of resolution, even after Gerald’s death, which symbolises the end of one form of oppression, the novel’s dystopian conclusion further subverts the genre’s conventions, reflecting the unique challenges of contemporary South Africa.

In other ways, Azure's journey conforms to the characteristics of a Bildungsroman, given that the narrative follows his personal development. Azure is orphaned at a young age, and his journey from home life to joining homeless street children in Cape Town marks the beginning of his progression. 

Azure’s detached recounting of the tragic loss of his parents indicates that he has not processed the trauma, instead suppressing it. As Kenqu notes, “He has not adequately mourned or dealt with his loss; he does not even stay for the funeral because survival takes precedence over mourning” (77). Azure also recalls being physically abused by his father and being surprised when he was not punished for accidentally starting a fire. While his parents were likely too concerned for his safety to punish him, Azure’s inability to grasp this shows how accustomed he is to violence. Azure’s relationship with his parents and the traumatic loss he endures also symbolise the nation’s unresolved issues. In my interpretation, Duiker suggests that historical oppression and violence stemming from apartheid may have contributed to Azure’s father’s abuse and the violent murder of his parents. Through Azure’s repression, Duiker highlights the silencing of victims and the nation’s failure to address apartheid's lasting trauma. 

Gerald’s claim that Azure’s parents did not care for him, referencing their shared bathwater, is recognised by readers as a result of poverty rather than neglect, highlighting systemic inequalities (Duiker 72). As Thando Njovane explains, “Gerald is attempting to rewrite Azure’s memories of maternal nurturing”(180), overlooking the reality that they lived in an informal settlement where water was scarce and plumbing non-existent. This reframing exposes Gerald’s prejudices, as he reinforces the apartheid-era association of uncleanliness with poverty and Blackness (Njovane 180)

Duiker’s choice to use a child protagonist who tells the story from a first-person perspective is particularly effective. Azure’s innocence and naivety, coupled with his limited understanding of the adult world, heighten the themes of abuse, neglect, and exploitation. 

In psychology, the us-versus-them effect refers to the tendency to divide the social world into an ingroup (us) and an outgroup (them) (American Psychological Association, 2024). Azure applies this mindset by separating himself and other street kids from other figures like the police and white people. This illustrates the ongoing divisions of power in post-apartheid South Africa. Themes of inequality, power versus powerlessness, and wealth versus poverty continue to dominate, revealing the lingering effects of apartheid despite the official end of the regime.

Azure’s homelessness and need to fend for himself reflect the enduring socio-economic disparities in South Africa. Azure, orphaned and abandoned by his community and society, lacks the nurturing environment for a child’s development. His living conditions illustrate the limited access to basic resources faced by underprivileged communities who remain affected by apartheid’s legacy. The neglect of street children like Azure by a government that fails to provide basic needs such as housing underscores the nation’s inability to fully address systemic inequalities entrenched during apartheid (Kenqu 78).

Azure’s distrust and fear of adults are understandable, given his experiences with them. He bluntly asserts that “grown-ups are fucked up” (Duiker 42). From a child’s innocent and observational perspective, his negative perception of his environment is that it is unsafe, exploitative, and cruel. For instance, “the police are criminalised. They are neither able nor willing to protect the most vulnerable citizens” (Kenqu 83). This portrayal exposes the more profound dysfunction of his society. 

While Gerald is the main antagonist in Thirteen Cents, the adults Azure encounters throughout the text represent a broader moral decay in contemporary South Africa. One such figure is Joyce, who initially appears as a kind and caring adult. She gives Azure leftover food from the upscale restaurant where she works, opens a bank account for him, and deposits money whenever he requests. She also demonstrates a degree of concern by asking Azure to promise not to join a gang, which shows she wants to keep him safe. However, before her true nature is revealed, Duiker raises ethical concerns about her behaviour. Joyce smokes cigarettes with Azure, which is illegal and unethical, especially considering Azure’s age. Additionally, she never questions where Azure gets his money, possibly because she does not want to confront an uncomfortable truth that would weigh on her conscience. Joyce’s nurturing actions do not absolve her of her more questionable behaviour because she is the adult in the relationship.

Joyce’s deceit is exposed when she lies to Azure about how banks operate and later steals the money he has entrusted her. Her betrayal of a child who has nothing serves as a symbol of the moral decay in post-apartheid South Africa. Joyce’s actions underscore how adults, who should be protectors and mentors, often contribute to the exploitation and further marginalisation of vulnerable individuals like Azure.

A similar critique can be made about the doctor who treats Azure in the hospital. He uses the pronoun "they" to refer to street children like Azure, creating an “us-versus-them” dynamic that echoes the othering and separation rooted in apartheid. His lack of empathy reflects the ongoing divisions in society, with the privileged and powerful maintaining a distance from the marginalised and disadvantaged. The doctor’s stereotypical, dismissive attitude toward a child in need of medical attention also highlights moral decay.

Azure encounters gangsters and paedophiles, navigating a world rife with exploitation and violence. The primary source of his income comes from what he refers to as “tricks,” (Duiker) where he sells his body for sex in exchange for money. The term “tricks” is significant; it reflects Azure’s street smarts and implies that he outsmarts his clients by using various techniques to extract more money from them. However, readers are aware that he receives very little for this sex work. This term also alludes to the one-sided nature of these sexual experiences. 

Although Azure engages in sex work, his encounters with adult men are instances of sexual assault, as he cannot legally consent as a minor. These encounters are often violent, leaving him physically harmed. For instance, Azure is left bleeding from his anus after one of these “tricks” (Duiker 71) Some clients, including married men with families, engage in this behaviour secretly, highlighting their hypocrisy. Azure is reduced to a sexual object, symbolising the historical violence and dehumanisation of black bodies. Duiker suggests that this is a pattern of exploitation that persists in contemporary society. The politeness of Lebowitz, who sexually exploits Azure while maintaining civility and politeness, serves as a chilling reminder of how exploitation often hides behind facades. As Kenqu notes, “his clients are all white, which speaks to the exploitation of the black body by the white gaze,” a motif that Duiker sophisticatedly brings into focus through his the resurrection of Saartjie Baartman towards the end of the novel” (79).

Furthermore, Azure experiences dehumanisation at the hands of gang members, who attempt to control him as if he were an object. Gerald, a particularly violent character, seeks to assert ownership over Azure. Mistaking him for a black man, Azure inadvertently triggers Gerald’s fury, highlighting the internalised racism stemming from prolonged oppression. Gerald's violent outbursts and brutal beatings inflicted on Azure symbolise the damaging effects of societal hierarchies based on skin colour.

After Azure is treated for his injuries in the hospital, Gerald's gang confines him in a dark room for days, depriving him of food and contact with the outside world. When they finally release him, the gang members take turns assaulting him. The senseless violence and abuse directed at Azure, alongside the total disregard for his dignity and humanity, further underscores the unbroken cycles of violence against black bodies. The gangsters and paedophiles who exploit Azure signify the moral decay in post-apartheid South Africa. This comments on the lack of rehabilitation following systems of oppression. Those who have been emasculated or oppressed throughout history often respond by reinforcing oppression against weaker or more vulnerable targets.

Azure’s journey can be compared to that of the nation itself, as he represents a young child (much like South Africa) entering democracy. He has faced significant trauma that is never adequately addressed, leading to a cycle of compounding suffering. Similarly, the trauma stemming from systemic oppression remains unresolved, with little effort made to address or alleviate its effects.

In conclusion, Azure's narrative serves as a poignant reflection of the enduring scars left by apartheid and the complexities of life in contemporary South Africa. Through his experiences, Duiker sheds light on cycles of violence, trauma, and moral decay that permeate society, revealing the stark realities faced by marginalised individuals. Azure’s struggle for autonomy amidst exploitation highlights the systemic failures perpetuating inequality and neglect. His encounters with various adults, each embodying moral ambiguity, underscore the societal disillusionment that remains prevalent in the nation. Ultimately, Azure’s journey parallels the nation's path, emphasising the urgent need for a collective acknowledgement of past injustices and a commitment to genuine change. Without addressing these foundational issues, the cycle of trauma and exploitation is destined to continue, leaving future generations to grapple with the legacies of a fractured society.