Jikeleza Labyrinth 
Reflexive Essay 
 
Karen Ramburuth-Hurt 
Student No: 0710410M 
 
An essay submitted to the School of Literature and Language Studies, Faculty of 
Humanities, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, in partial fulfilment of the 
requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in Writing (Research).  
 
 
2 
 
Declaration  
 
I declare that this essay and the novel, Jikeleza Labyrinth, are my own unaided work. 
They are submitted for the degree of Master of Arts in Writing (Research) at the 
University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. Neither has been submitted before for 
any other degree or examination in any other university. I declare that Jikeleza 
Labyrinth is a work of fiction and in no way represents or reproduces any person or 
incident. Any likeness or similarity is coincidence.  
 
 
 
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
Karen Ramburuth-Hurt 
27 August 2010  
 
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 Contents 
 
Declaration.....................       Page 2 
Contents..............................       Page 3 
Introduction??????       Page 4 
This essay....................       Page 4 
Where this story began?????     Page 5 
Creating characters??????.     Page 5 
Resolving description of characters????   Page 8 
Writing multiple points of view????    Page 9 
Reaching a range of readers??????    Page 12 
Context, history, politics and narrative voice??   Page 14 
Violence and trauma in teenage literature??   Page 16 
Striving for authenticity???????..    Page 18 
Visit to East London and surrounds?????.   Page 20 
Understanding Don????????????   Page 22 
Language????????????????   Page 23 
Writing character- and action-driven fiction??   Page 23 
The writing process and participation in the  
MA programme workshops????.   Page 25 
 
Conclusion????????     Page 27 
Bibliography???????????.    Page 28 
Reference to acknowledgements.............     Page 30 
 
 
 
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Introduction 
 
I set out to write a South African adventure novel for young adult readers. My main 
objectives were to entertain, through a story that had some depth and celebrated children?s 
agency; and to enjoy, learn and extend myself in writing Jikeleza Labyrinth, my first attempt 
at a novel. Watts captures some of what I wanted to achieve when he said: 
And whether or not we are aware of it happening, stories shape our perception of the 
world. Life is confusing, sometimes threatening; the story can either help us evade 
this grim fact or help us get to grips with it ? And whether the tale is told around a 
camp fire or in the pages of a book, the audience is seeking the fulfilment of these 
same three needs: entertainment, escape, understanding. (Watts, 2003: 16) 
 
Jikeleza Labyrinth takes place in a contemporary setting with a historical back-story that 
solves the mystery of the skull that teen protagonist, Kabelo Nomvalo, inadvertently finds in 
the river in the opening scene. Zakes Mda, at the Time of the Writer International Writers? 
Festival in Durban in 2004, said, ?I am interested in how history formed the present. I shuttle 
between the past and the future because I am interested in the present?. I too wanted to draw a 
particular thread of South African history through the story to highlight how choices made in 
the past influence and shape the present, and may have unanticipated connections and 
consequences.  
 
This essay 
 
In this essay, I explain how the story idea for Jikeleza Labyrinth emerged and took shape; and 
how my approach to character development evolved over time, along with what I grappled 
with in the physical description of my characters. I look at my choice of using multiple points 
of view in telling the story, and issues to do with aiming at a young adult readership. This 
essay reflects on some of the other issues I dealt with relating to context, history, politics and 
narrative voice. All of the young adult characters in Jikeleza Labyrinth faced various degrees 
of uncertainty and trauma, and the story has violence in it; implied and described. This led me 
to reflect on writing violence in teenage literature. Research was an important part of my 
writing project, and I outline some of this in the section headed ?Striving for authenticity?. 
Writing character- and action-driven fiction was nerve-racking at times, but I gradually 
settled into it, and in this essay I explain how. I look briefly at my writing process, both when 
participating in the MA programme workshops, and writing ?alone?. In the conclusion I 
reflect on what writing this story meant for me and what I hope will come out of it. 
5 
 
Where this story began  
 
There was an old house with a wraparound verandah and a garden with a lookout point across 
the Chinsta River just before it made a final curve to meet the sea. The property, with its front 
lawn bordered with wild bush, became an annual holiday rendezvous over several summers 
for me, my partner, our children, and our friends. At different times of day and night, I often 
stood at the lookout point and watched the activity on and across the river, and along the 
coastline. I loved walking to the backpackers? place and to the village to buy supplies and 
potter around. I also loved lying on the hammock in the shade of the Wild Fig tree, and 
letting my imagination run free. All of this led to Jikeleza Labyrinth?s fictional characters, 
places and plot scenes taking shape, with Chintsa as their birthplace. 
  
Zakes Mda said that for him, a novel begins with place, followed by characters, then plot and 
the story. ?This place deserves a novel,? he related at a writers? festival, saying how he loved 
the scenery while driving through the Eastern Cape. My own story idea for a novel was also 
strongly evoked by place, the Chintsa River and its surrounds, coincidentally just south of 
Qolorha, where a large part of Zakes Mda?s The Heart of Redness is set.  
 
Creating characters 
 
I began writing early scenes in December 2004, with Jikeleza1 Route, between Chintsa and 
East London as the setting for the action. The writing group I was a member of at the time 
gave me critical feedback and encouragement. I was delighted when I was accepted on the 
MA in Writing programme, because of the disciplined and literary environment in which I 
could complete a novel.  
 
Once I had a sense of the place, plot and characters emerged. My novel soon became 
character- and action-driven. Early in the writing process I used Lajos Egri?s book The Art of 
Dramatic Writing ? Its Basis in the Creative Interpretation of Human Motives to assist with 
character development:  
                                                          
1 Jikeleza is an isiXhosa expression from ukujikeleza, which means ?to go around?. Whilst on a writing retreat in 
2008, I walked a labyrinth at full moon in the Magaliesberg, Gauteng. The second part of my novel?s title was 
evoked that night, and represented Kabelo?s journey in the story. It only later turned out to suit Anneliese?s 
journey too. 
6 
 
Human beings have ? three dimensions: physiology, sociology, psychology. Without 
a knowledge of these three dimensions we cannot appraise a human being. (Egri, 
2004: 34) 
 
I created a grid with the headings physiology, sociology and psychology and applied them to 
Kabelo, Rebecca, Sameer and Don. Although it was a useful early tool, it had its limitations. 
It was when I let my characters loose into action that I learnt most about them. I only 
discovered some personality traits when completing the last chapters of the novel, and during 
some of the later revisions. Anneliese, who was not in my original cast, is a case in point. She 
made an unplanned entrance in the story when Rebecca and Sameer went to look at 
photographs at the internet caf?. As the storyline developed, and Anneliese?s home life took 
on a particular profile, her sense of wanting truth and justice was something I would not have 
been able to anticipate in applying a character grid to her during the early stage of the writing 
process. Anneliese simply evolved along with the narrative?s development.  
 
I wanted to write a novel with complex characters, ones with whom a broad range of young 
adult readers could identify. Rebecca and Sameer were on holiday in Chintsa. Kabelo lived 
on the opposite side of the river where his father was a boutique hotel manager. A drug 
syndicate operated in the region. It held the answer to why Kabelo?s mother went missing 
two years ago. Don was Kabelo?s best friend but got into the club and drug scene, and 
became a runner in deep trouble with his dealer. Kabelo discovered a skull on the riverbed. 
The young protagonists? adventure included rescuing a friend, discovering what happened to 
Kabelo?s mother, who the skull belonged to, and exposing a drug syndicate. They also found, 
and deepened, friendships forged through danger. Rebecca and Kabelo experienced first love; 
they all discovered treachery in the most unexpected person, and tapped into the well of their 
own capacity for tenacity and courage.  
 
With regard to the number of protagonists, Watts has cautioned about having more than one: 
If you have more than one protagonist, they should ideally be intimately 
connected, that is: 
o be in a relationship together, or 
o have their fates bound together, or 
o face a common source of conflict. 
In other words, though distinct in themselves, they should share a common quest. 
(Watts, 2003: 76) 
 
7 
 
This assisted me in checking that each character had a purpose in the novel. In my first draft, 
Kabelo?s older cousin had come to live with him and his father to help look after Kabelo and 
the home. Her name was Puleng, and I particularly enjoyed writing a scene when they were 
much younger. But ultimately Puleng did nothing to advance the story. Following the advice 
of many writers, I took it out and froze it for a future story, in the hope that it is true that no 
scene is ever wasted. I tried to be ruthless, even with my favourite scenes, in the final 
revisions and edit in order to bring the essential story to the fore. 
 
My biggest surprise was Anneliese. She was not in my proposal, and yet ultimately she 
became a key protagonist, and a character who featured with great courage and 
determination. Initially, when she was at the internet caf? where we first meet her, and in a 
couple more subsequent scenes, she seemed to exist to create dramatic tension between 
Kabelo and Rebecca. I felt uncomfortable because it felt like a stereotypical role ? the jealous 
girl, even though Anneliese and Kabelo?s relationship did not reach girlfriend/boyfriend 
formality because of Anneliese?s father. I did not consciously ask myself in an issue-based 
way how I was going to get her out of that role. Anneliese?s presence and complexity grew 
when it emerged that her parents were divorced, and that her father was racist, contrary to 
Anneliese, who was a modern, but not na?ve, more integrated South African teenager. In 
addition, her uncle, an apartheid-era covert operative, emerged in the story, initially assisting 
with getting Pit Bull?s phone records, and later through Anneliese?s detective work, they 
discovered he was probably implicated in killing The General?s brother.  
 
With the direction the storyline took came the growth of Anneliese?s demand for a point of 
view. This kind of character development is why I enjoyed writing in a character- and action-
 driven way; not only did the unexpected happen to the characters, it was also often a surprise 
to the writer. Rebecca and Sameer were very much part of the adventure, but it ultimately 
became Kabelo?s and Anneliese?s labyrinths. Another unexpected development was having 
Kabelo?s mother in an early scene, where Kabelo had a flashback to the night that she 
disappeared. It was a poignant and difficult scene to write, knowing that his mother would be 
killed.  
8 
 
Driven by my work as a commissioned materials developer for Soul Buddyz Club, Soul City2 
I read and write about children dealing with trauma, including that of having their parents 
pass away. I lost my father, who died of a heart attack in my arms when I was 20 years old, 
and experienced the sea change in family structure and responsibilities but not in the extreme 
circumstances that many South African children do. My compassion for Kabelo?s loss, which 
for me represented the trauma of many children, was deep and took me away from writing 
the story for a while. 
 
Resolving description of characters 
 
From the outset, I had a stronger sense of my characters? personalities and emotions than of 
their physical appearance. I typed and deleted many bits of description, especially of Kabelo, 
Rebecca and Sameer, who were the main characters that I focused on in the early period of 
writing the novel. Slipping in adjectives about hair, skin, and body shape felt forced, but I 
kept trying as some of the advice in writing for young adults included the importance of 
describing physical description. In March 2007 I still thought that in order to write the 
narrative, I needed a picture in my mind of my characters.  
 
I dug out old photographs, went through magazines, and took photo cuttings from 
newspapers. I stuck them in a large scrapbook. The scrapbook gathered dust. Yet the process 
helped me to reach a new view on writing physical appearance. I thought about some of my 
favourite novels, and realised that if the author had described his or her characters in detail, I 
hadn?t absorbed it. One example for me is Arundhati Roy?s The God of Small Things. Roy 
refused to sell the movie rights of this 1997 Booker Prize winning novel. Despite the money 
she would certainly have made, she argued that she wanted each reader to keep the integrity 
of how they visualised the story intact.  
 
I wrote in my journal: ?Maybe I can get away with minimal description and then the 
relationships, the dialogue, the action, carry it?. I didn?t want to describe ?almond shaped 
eyes? and ?caramel? or ?cinnamon? or ?milky? coloured skin, as if I dunked my protagonists in 
the baking section of my kitchen cupboard before bringing them onto the stage.  
                                                          
2 The Soul City Institute for Health & Development Communication is a health promotion organisation. 
Amongst its advocacy, research, and information-sharing programmes is Soul Buddyz Club, a children?s club 
movement based mainly in primary schools all over South Africa. In March 2010, there were 5 635 clubs and 
115 474 members, the majority being in rural areas. The clubs? key objective is ?to make a difference? in dealing 
with socio-economic challenges. 
9 
 
 
Other than an adjective here or there, I decided that I wanted readers to have the freedom to 
conjure the characters? physical appearance for themselves, depending on their own world 
view and experience ? on how they thought or wanted the characters to look like. Once I 
embraced that decision, I felt liberated. And delighted, recently, to read Elmore Leonard?s 
rule: ?Avoid detailed description of characters?.3  
 
In her book Reading Like a Writer, Francine Prose says of Kleist:  
Among the unusual things about the way that Kleist creates his characters is that he 
does so entirely without physical description. There is no information, not a single 
detail, about the Marquise?s appearance. (Prose, 2007: 115)  
 
I hoped that readers would imbibe, through different scenes, action and dialogue, the sense 
that the protagonists were a group of racially and culturally diverse, largely middle-class 
young South Africans. Despite my background, I didn?t want to force gender, race, class and 
culture as foregrounded issues in the novel. Ultimately Jikeleza Labyrinth was an adventure 
about a vibrant group of teenagers who solved some mysteries and brought down a drug 
syndicate; and in the writing of the story, it was about me having the pleasure and luxury to 
let go of issue-driven writing. 
 
Writing multiple points of view 
 
That each protagonist had a point of view emerged spontaneously. I liked the triangle of 
perspectives when Kabelo found the skull in the river, and both Rebecca and Sameer 
observed him from different places, Rebecca from the lookout point, and Sameer from the 
riverbank, close to where Kabelo threw the skull. It introduced the reader immediately to 
three of the main characters. I thought multiple points of view would engage the reader; and 
offer a closer relationship with, and understanding of the main characters? actions. The 
readers could be in on the action far more than if I had a single point of view. I could move 
my figurative camera from the shoulder of one character and scene and cut away to the next. I 
liked that the reader could follow the romance between Kabelo and Rebecca from each of 
their perspectives; and hoped that this would make my novel appealing to both young adult 
men and women.  
                                                          
3 Review section, London?s Saturday Guardian 20.02.10: 2, in an article asking authors for their dos and don?ts.   
10 
 
 
Stephanie Meyer wrote the phenomenally successful Twilight series using first-person 
narrative. It has largely but not exclusively appealed to young women and their mothers (who 
were keen to know what all the fuss was about). I was interested to hear teenage girls, who 
feverishly borrowed and lent copies from our household, say that the main teen girl 
protagonist, Isabella (Bella), irritated them. I reflected that it could well partly have been 
because the four books were written predominantly in the first person. The girls (and their 
mothers) seemed more interested in the sexy male protagonists than Bella, and divided 
themselves into either ?team Edward? (vampire) or ?team Jacob? (werewolf).  
 
Using multiple points of view offered me a way to create a good pace, an important contract 
to keep with readers in my genre. Towards the end of the novel, I was able to build up the 
tempo and cut between the scene where Anneliese and Rebecca were at the old torture site, 
and the scene where Kabelo had entered The General?s property to rescue Don and discover 
what happened to his mother. According to Christopher Vogler?s outline for The Stages of 
the Hero?s Journey in The Writer?s Journey, both scenes roughly align with stages seven to 
nine, and fall into the ?crisis? section of the storyline. Those stages are: 
7. Approach to the Inmost Cave 
8. Ordeal 
9. Reward (Seizing of the Sword). 
(Vogler, 1998: 14) 
 
I hoped the multiple points of view and rapid scene cutting in this ?crisis? part of the novel 
would help heighten readers? sense of tension and of being right in there with the 
protagonists? action. 
 
With multiple points of view, I was probably influenced by Barbara Kingsolver?s The 
Poisonwood Bible, which I read many years ago. Much of the novel is set in the 1950s and 
1960s in the then Congo, now Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), during the violent 
end of Belgian colonial rule. The four young daughters and mother in the story each have 
their own point of view. As a reader, I loved having access to their range of personalities, 
perspectives, voices and actions. It made parts of the story more compelling and chilling, and 
also made me, as a reader, feel as if I lived with that family, and hung out with different 
members at different times. The remote, obsessive and frightening missionary father had no 
point of view. In my novel, neither did Don. This is explored further in the research section 
11 
 
below. He remained remote to me throughout the novel. I made several efforts to give him a 
point of view, to reach a deeper understanding of how his mind was working. But Don was 
enigmatic and secretive, and too close to the world of manipulation and addiction, for me to 
get close to him. He was edgy, and private in an unreliable way, rather than Anneliese, for 
example, who at times drew a screen around herself, but did not build a wall.  
 
Sawyer offered a tip that helped guide me: ?The rule is simple: pick one character, and follow 
the entire scene through his or her eyes only? (Sawyer, 1996: 3). It wasn?t easy, nevertheless, 
and I didn?t always get it right in my first drafts where I found myself slipping from one 
character to the next within lines, and occasionally becoming an omniscient narrator. I played 
with shifting point of view within a paragraph as opposed to in a chapter, or chapter section. 
One of the reassurances when writing the story is knowing that there is the opportunity to go 
back and rewrite and edit. Each subsequent edit allowed me to be more mindful of whose 
shoulder my camera was on, and also in getting to know my characters? personalities better, I 
could make adjustments to dialogue, mannerisms, relationships and action. 
 
One of Philip Pullman?s comments in an interview about His Dark Materials trilogy 
resonated with me. He said, ?I always write in the third person, as if seeing them [my 
characters] from the outside; they trust me not to try and get inside their skin. Maybe?.4 Yet, 
Andre Brink, at a Cape Town Book Fair forum in June 2007, said that when you as the author 
?leap into the skin of another it sets creative sparks flying ? it is that imagining yourself in the 
skin of another?. During the revision process I particularly struggled with the degree of access 
I wanted the narrator to have to the teenage characters? interiority. I didn?t want an invasive 
narrator with access to all inner thoughts and feelings, especially with teenage protagonists.  
 
My experience with teenagers, both as a former high-school teacher and as a mother whose 
car, home and days are regularly filled with teenagers? conversations, made me mindful of 
their desire for social and spatial privacy and room in which to evolve toward young 
adulthood. I quickly learnt that butting in to certain types of conversations more often than 
not led to a change of topic, or an evacuation of the vicinity. Writing this novel taught me to 
listen more; having children and teenagers constantly around enriched my novel writing. 
With the range of teenagers in my life, including several who are either orphans or have 
                                                          
4 See http://www.kidsreads.com/authors/au-pullman-philip.asp retrieved 08.02.2010.  
12 
 
experienced the death of one parent at a fairly early age, I am aware that each child 
transforming into a young adult does so differently. Each child is complex and many 
children?s circumstances and family lives are complicated; children have to make sense of 
their lives in an increasingly fragmented multiple message society. I struggled to articulate 
this during some of my presentation sessions in the MA class, where I felt that sometimes 
there was a generalised, stereotypical view of what teenagers are like (hormone-driven, 
selfish and rude; unlikely to do household chores). My own understanding and experience of 
young people grappling with trauma and loss of a parent, and in some cases of the anxiety of 
financial deprivation amongst other problems, differed. Each teenager is far more nuanced, 
affected and shaped by background, parenting styles and belief systems, family, economic 
class, and community circumstance than the general stereotypical view of teenagers allows.  
 
While writing Jikeleza Labyrinth, I used different tools to understand my youthful characters, 
and their motivations and desires. I did not try to ?get inside their skin?. Following more 
guides and authors? advice than I can list here, I decided to write in the past tense with a 
third-person limited point of view.  
 
Reaching a range of readers 
 
EB White?s words are pertinent when it comes to writing for children: ?No one can write 
decently who is distrustful of the reader?s intelligence, or whose attitude is patronising? 
(quoted in Lamb, 2001: 174). 
 
I tried to write the kind of novel that while aimed at young adults, would attract a wider range 
of readers. One of the members of my writing group said she enjoyed reading the early 
chapters because it was like a ?pantomime?; she liked that it appealed to her as an adult, and 
also that it would appeal to younger people. 
 
When my children were younger, we read novels aloud as a family. Amongst others, we read 
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mike Haddon, Journey to the River Sea by 
Eva Ibbotson, and JK Rowling?s Harry Potter series. I loved that books like these could be 
appreciated and interpreted differently at various ages, and the sense that they are books 
children might return to read as adults and discover new depths in them. Such novels help 
promote conversations in the families where they are read. They offer a common platform 
13 
 
from which family members can initiate discussions and debates, with anything from ?What?s 
your favourite part?? to ?How did you feel when Bella decided she was prepared to risk her 
life by having sex with Edward?? and ?What did you think of Hermione [from Harry Potter] 
taking up the struggle of the house-elves?? and together reflect on similarities between the 
increasing fascism of the Ministry of Magic in the Harry Potter books with world history.  
 
In an interview5 Philip Pullman was asked, ?Does children?s literature give you the freedom 
to use that kind of omniscient narrative voice in a more confident way than you could in an 
adult book?? Here is an extract of his response, which found resonance with me: 
I find it hard to understand how some writers can say with great confidence, ?Oh, I 
write for fourth grade children? or ?I write for boys of 12 or 13?. How do they know? I 
don?t know. I would rather consider myself in the rather romantic position of the old 
storyteller in the marketplace: you sit down on your little bit of carpet with your hat 
upturned in front of you, and you start to tell a story ? My interest as a storyteller is 
to have as big an audience as possible. That will include children, I hope, and it will 
include adults, I hope. If dogs and horses want to stop and listen, they?re welcome as 
well. 
 
Louis Sachar, another award winning writer of children?s literature said this, when asked in 
an interview6 what makes Holes special: 
I think it is a very entertaining story, very exciting story, thought provoking, and a 
puzzle. And it?s not written down to kids, I write for my enjoyment, things that I like, 
so it respects its readers, treats its readers as intelligent, caring, smart people, and I 
think it brings out the best qualities of the reader.  
 
Eva Ibbotson?s adventure novel Journey to the River Sea is an exciting and subtly political 
narrative set in Manaus, Brazil and along the Amazon River in the very early 1900s. Maia, 
following the death of her parents, leaves her boarding school in England with a governess to 
live with her thoroughly prejudiced and unpleasant British relatives in Manaus. Through the 
action of the storyline, the historical and political background, and flora and fauna of the 
Amazon are evoked for the reader. In an interview7 Eva Ibbotson said:  
And of course, one is particularly careful when writing for children to keep things 
moving and not get bogged down by sunsets or moral asides. With both kinds of 
books [adult and children], it is finding the voice in which to narrate that is the 
problem.  
 
                                                          
5 Philip Pullman: The Storyteller?s Art ? A conversation with James Mustich, Editor-in-Chief, Barnes & Noble 
Review 12/3/07 www.barnesandnoble.com/bn-review/interview.asp retrieved 24.02.2010. 
6 See http://teacher.scholastic.com/scholasticnews/indepth/holes/louis.Sachar.htm retrieved 08.02.2010. 
7 See http://www.indiebound.org/author-interviews/ibbotsoneva retrieved 08.02.2010. 
14 
 
This was the kind of novel I aspired to write, one which captured the interest of a broad 
readership; a novel that treated its readers with intelligence and respect, and that offered both 
a contemporary and historical background. I avoided writing about sunrises and sunsets. 
 
Jody Metcalfe, a teenager and avid reader in my social circle, requested to read the chapters 
that I?d written at that point, which in mid-2007, was up to chapter 7. Here is an extract from 
my journal: 
At one point she [Jody] burst out laughing. It was about Rebecca jumping onto 
Sameer?s bed. That?s when I knew that I would keep that part in. Jody said that her 
favourite character was Sameer because he is funny. She also asked if Kabelo and 
Rebecca would become more than friends. I said that I thought so. Then she said that 
she liked the skull in the beginning of the story. I told her that some of my class 
hadn?t liked it at all, and explained why. She said that adults don?t understand what 
children/teenagers like to read about. But she didn?t want the skull to belong to 
Kabelo?s mom. And she was worried about Kabelo?s mom. She asked what happens 
to her and I said that I wouldn?t tell her. She is excited about the story.  
 
Her reading of my rough work was valuable in touching base with my readership, and in 
thinking through how to handle the skull, which remained one of my main resolution 
concerns when writing. 
  
Context, history, politics and narrative voice 
 
Jikeleza Labyrinth is a work of fiction but some parts, particularly the historical back-story, 
were influenced by life experiences. The 1980s and early 1990s was a brutal period in South 
Africa?s history. I was involved in a range of non-racial organisations, women?s, workers?, 
and teachers?, and taught at a white girls? high school in Durban, and then worked for a non-
 profit socialist feminist women?s magazine, SPEAK. Thousands of people died in the United 
Democratic Front/African National Congress/Inkatha Freedom Party conflict during that 
time. There were allegations of a third force operating. Political allegiances tore some 
families apart. Many anti-apartheid activists left the country to join liberation armies, another 
wave after the 1976 Soweto uprising. Activists went missing; some were killed on the orders 
of seniors in control of the apartheid government?s covert operations? squads. 
 
With The General?s character in Jikeleza Labyrinth I acknowledged the generation of 
disillusioned freedom fighters who lost out in the new dispensation; and, as the plot unfolded, 
Anneliese?s uncle represented those who chose not to take responsibility for what they did 
15 
 
either in ordering or implementing assassinations of activists during apartheid. Despite the 
Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) process in post-apartheid South Africa, there 
are still families of missing activists who remain, many years later, trapped in the agony of 
not being able to find closure relating to what happened to their loved ones. The General was 
one such person in the novel, with the protagonists beginning to unlock the truth about his 
missing brother through finding the skull with a crack on its top and a hole in the back, which 
could be consistent with a bullet shot, together with the photograph and bullet casing that 
Anneliese discovered hidden in her mother?s cupboard. There are still apartheid-era senior 
decision-makers and operatives who have neither disclosed nor taken responsibility for their 
actions. In the novel, I chose not to give Anneliese?s uncle a name.  
 
Amitav Ghosh, speaking about his writing at the Origins Centre8 said, ?Activism and the 
novel do not go well together?. In an article about Arundhati Roy?s celebrated return to 
fiction writing, journalist Randeep Ramesh captured this quote9 from her, which echoes 
Ghosh?s:  
My fiction is never about an issue. I don?t set myself some political task and weave a 
story around it. I might as well write a straightforward non-fiction piece if that is what 
I wanted to do. 
 
I wanted to suspend the activist in me while writing and this was not always easy. But I knew 
that failing to do so would affect the narrative voice, which would become intrusive, didactic 
and off-putting for my readers.  
 
During the early stages of writing Jikeleza Labyrinth I struggled with the narrator?s persona 
and voice, and consciously tried to strip it of one of my main nonfiction persona and voices, 
which I use in developing children?s theme-based materials. James N Frey wrote about the 
nonfiction narrative voice, saying:  
In nonfiction, a strong narrative voice is created by tone and a command of facts. In 
fiction, a strong narrative voice is created by tone and a command of detail. (Frey, 
1994: 81)  
 
My nonfiction narrator?s job is to care, guide, inform and offer children interesting 
information and engaging activities around themes like bullying, being body wise, HIV and 
AIDS, alcohol and violence, handling trauma, amongst many other issues of concern. My job 
                                                          
8 The Words on Water Literature Festival, Origins Centre, University of the Witwatersrand, 23 August 2007. 
9
  Randeep Ramesh, The Guardian, 17 February 2007. 
16 
 
is to try to keep children out of trouble, safe, and enjoy their childhood. I would describe my 
tone as ?friendly adult?. In my novel I had to get my characters into harm?s way. 
 
Violence and trauma in teenage literature 
 
Some members of my MA workshop class were unhappy about Kabelo finding a skull in the 
river, given that his mother had gone missing. Although I hadn?t yet worked out to whom the 
skull belonged, and still didn?t know whose it was until I wrote the last few chapters in late 
2009, I was always certain that it did not belong to Kabelo?s mother. It did distress me 
somewhat, working as a materials? developer for children, that I had created a storyline that 
my class generally found a no-go area. Had I lost my boundaries? And even in my final edit, I 
worried that it might disturb the reader that they only discover right at the end of the novel 
that the skull is not Kabelo?s mother?s. 
 
When I finally came towards writing the part that sealed the fate of Kabelo?s mother, I 
stopped writing for a few weeks. I didn?t want her to be dead; I didn?t want Kabelo to have to 
face the finality of his mother having been murdered. I wrote in my journal: ?Kabelo?s mom 
& dying. Do I add to the dead bodies in SA? Worried about gratuitous violence. Or am I 
trying to show the ruthlessness of the drug world??  
 
I grappled with other issues. How was Kabelo?s mother killed? How gruesome could I, would 
I get? Would I describe or would I imply? What on earth was I doing to my readers? I 
rationalised that the death of a parent would resonate with my readers. It was the friendships 
with Rebecca, Sameer and Anneliese, forged through the adventure that would help Kabelo 
get through it. In a Paris Review interview, Peter Carey was asked about writing ?graphic 
descriptions of violence and incestuous abuse? in The Tax Inspector. The interviewer asked 
?Did you feel a moral imperative in taking on that kind of material?? Carey concluded his 
response by saying:  
If you are going to break a taboo or imagine evil and put it on the earth you better 
have a good moral reason. You better hope that it is doing something that justifies its 
existence. (The Paris Review Interviews vol. II, 2007: 458)  
 
I did not write gratuitous violence, but I still felt I needed to justify the trauma in my story to 
myself. I did not set out to write a novel that described teenagers rolling joints, shooting 
heroine, chasing the dragon, or being raped by tik-pumped addicts. Rather, I wanted to 
17 
 
foreground the workings of a drug syndicate in as authentic a way as possible; and to show 
how deeply cynical it is that most kingpins do not use drugs themselves, and some even live 
their lives regarded as upstanding philanthropists. I was moved by John le Carr??s thriller, 
The Constant Gardener, which depicted the way a European pharmaceutical company 
deviously tested drugs on black working-class Kenyans. I found the story and characters 
compelling and believable. When I put the book down, I felt angry. I wanted my readers to 
understand the workings of a drug syndicate, and also to be angry.  
 
Ted Leggett?s book Rainbow Vice: The Drugs and Sex Industries in the New South Africa 
was invaluable for an overview of the drug user and distribution scene in South Africa. He 
wrote: 
But most disturbingly, a democratic South Africa has proved irresistibly attractive to 
international syndicates. Its geographical location and permeable borders have made it 
an ideal transshipment site and, in a pattern seen elsewhere, locally based couriers 
(paid in drugs rather than an unpredictable local currency) tend to create a market for 
their product. (Leggett, 2001: 19) 
 
Kabelo?s mother was killed because of the brutality that goes into protecting the multi-billion 
rand global drug industry. Uncle Richard represented the notion, or premise, that people are 
not always who they seem to be. I hoped that in some ways Uncle Richard would evoke the 
disillusionment and distaste with, for example, sportspeople who cheat and lie, and 
politicians who have let us down and live double-standard lives. The implied torture scene 
with The General?s brother was a culmination of the back-story that gradually developed 
from the time it emerged that Anneliese?s uncle had been an apartheid-era covert operative.  
 
Reading Peter Harris?s In a Different Time brought back the horrors of torture that I had 
heard and read about during the 1980s and early 1990s. The memory of, together with a 
colleague, interviewing Zizile Cothoza from Lamontville, Durban when I worked for SPEAK 
magazine haunted me for much of The General and Anneliese?s scenes. Cothoza?s daughter 
was a student activist who had gone into exile, and then went missing. When we interviewed 
Cothoza in 1988, she related that someone had suggested that she travel to Piet Retief 
because she may find her missing daughter there. Together with other parents, Cothoza 
entered the room where the bodies were. She said:  
There was a terrible smell. We saw our children put together. Some were put one on 
top of the other. Ntsiki?s body was badly damaged. I could hardly recognise her. 
(SPEAK, 1988/89: 23)  
 
18 
 
Ntsiki was abducted and killed with other cadres on Eugene de Kok?s orders10 in 1988. She 
had a young son, Lunga. Cothoza tried to shield her grandson from what happened to his 
mother. She related to us that when Lunga saw some police in the street, he told her that ?he 
hates police because they killed his mother. He is only four, but he knows what it means to 
hate? (SPEAK, 1988/89: 23). 
 
It is na?ve to believe that we can protect children from violence. They experience it directly, 
and throughout world history, always have, even though adults often try to imagine that 
somehow they don?t, as if there is a magic curtain that screens and protects children from it. 
Adults are quick to shake their heads in amazement and say, ?Children are resilient?.  
 
Children are in cars that are hijacked; they live in families where there is violence, sometimes 
directed at them; they go through their parents? separations which are usually trauma-filled; 
children live in the communities where there are robberies, gangs, and where police fire 
rubber bullets during service delivery protests. Like everyone else, children absorb their 
experiences, and are shaped by them. I felt there was justification for the trauma and violence 
in Jikeleza Labyrinth, and that my readers would make sense of it. 
 
Striving for authenticity 
 
A strong narrative voice creates a feeling in the reader that the writer knows what he 
or she is talking about. It creates trust. It lets the reader relax the critical faculty and 
go with the flow of the words. (Frey, 1994: 81) 
 
Anthony Horowitz, a prolific children?s author was at the Cape Town Book Fair in 2007 and 
spoke to a room full of young fans. One of his best-known series, commonly described as 
junior James Bond in genre, is the Alex Rider adventures, including Eagle Strike, Scorpia 
and Ark Angel. Regarding research, Horowitz said that he visits the places where the book is 
set, speaks to people and experts, and uses the internet extensively. Credibility was important 
to him, he said ?then the reader will buy into the fantasy?. He spoke about a paragraph set on 
an oil rig that he had been uncertain about. He held back on the novel?s publication until he?d 
taken a trip and spent time on an oil rig, and, only then satisfied, wrote the final version of it. 
                                                          
10 Eugene de Kok applied for amnesty for this during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission amnesty 
committee in Durban. Reported 
http://www.iol.co.za/general/news/newsprint.php?art_id=ct19990726225236413D200638&sf=  
retrieved 07.03.2010. 
19 
 
When asked at a book signing in Johannesburg, shortly before the book fair, why there are so 
few parents in his books, he replied, ?Because everyone knows that children can?t have fun 
when their parents are around?. It took me a while, but I did ultimately fade Kabelo?s father, 
and Rebecca?s and Sameer?s grandmother and father further into the background of the story.  
 
Research played a vital and invigorating role throughout the writing of Jikeleza Labyrinth. 
Authenticity is important to me too; it makes me feel secure as a writer, and I believe readers 
take it as a sign of respect. I did research to help try to ensure my plot was authentic, details 
were accurate, and characters believable.  
 
I struggled with the boundaries regarding fictionalising an existing place and drew on Lamb, 
quoting Barbara Shapiro, for reassurance: 
You are writing fiction, not fact. If you are to fashion an effective plot, you must 
discard the facts as you know them in the service of a larger truth. Taking this risk is 
the only way to make the leap into a story that reflects the reality you know, as well as 
the world you imagine. (Lamb, 2001: 112) 
  
I decided to take Zakes Mda?s route. On his Dedication page in The Heart of Redness, he 
wrote: ?As for the people of Qolorha, they will forgive me for reinventing their lives?. I hoped 
the people of Chintsa and East London would do the same.  
 
I read many books about drugs, including Melinda Ferguson?s autobiographical Smacked, 
Melvin Burgess?s novel junk, and Out to Score by Mike Nicol and Joanne Hichens. I also 
read many books aimed at young adults, some of which have been mentioned in this essay 
and are listed in the reference section. I spent many hours on the internet, reading about many 
things: drugs, drug syndicates, searching for things like night vision binoculars, canoeing, the 
difference between pool, snooker and billiards, birds and trees in the Eastern Cape, the kind 
of giraffe to expect to find in a game reserve close to Chintsa (with this one, eventually I 
spoke to a giraffe expert in Mpumalanga; giraffe are apparently not indigenous to the Eastern 
Cape), and I kept up with newspaper articles touching on the themes and plots in my story.  
 
20 
 
Visit to East London and surrounds 
 
In May 2007, I took a trip to East London and Chintsa. I met Michael Potgieter,11 an 
investigating officer based at a local East London police station. I wanted to meet with him 
because he?d published a booklet on drugs and youth. Meeting with Potgieter helped me to 
familiarise myself with the youth and drug scene in East London. Farhana Mohamed of the 
South African National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (SANCA) East 
London12 office helped me think about the teen addict side of my story. She spoke about how 
some children they saw turned to drugs because their parents were too busy for them, that 
children feel lonely, and also the impact of divorce on children, who often blame themselves 
and seek consolation by using drugs. Mohamed highlighted the link between drugs and 
sexual activity. She told me of a school-age teenager who slept with married men to get 
cocaine.  
 
I visited the city?s main hospital, explored East London?s CBD, and drove out to Chintsa to 
visit the old house, garden and lookout point. I took photographs, and browsed around 
Chintsa on both sides of the river, and back and forth along Jikeleza Route, stopping here and 
there to take photographs. The photographs later proved useful to me throughout the writing 
process. When I got stuck I popped back to my novel?s location, zooming in and out. I kept 
one photograph in particular on my Jo?burg office notice board throughout my novel writing 
process. It is of a rusting corrugated iron house, taken not far from where we used to stay. For 
a long time it represented for me the scene where Kabelo would encounter The General and 
find out what happened to his mother. However, eventually in the novel The General?s 
property is bigger and smarter, and does not even have a corrugated building on it. But the 
photograph served me well; one evening I examined it more closely and noticed for the first 
time that there was a very small part of a rondavel?s thatched roof visible beyond the iron 
shack. Noticing this gave me a lever to create the scene with the three rondavels on The 
General?s property in one of the final chapters. 
 
In the summer holidays between early December 2007 and early January 2008, I rented a 
huge house, in a different part of Chintsa to where we had stayed before. We shared it with 
various friends and family. This gave me an opportunity to sink into and explore the location 
                                                          
11 7 May 2007, East London. 
12 10 May 2007, East London. 
21 
 
of my novel over a longer period; there were few sunny days and much drizzle during that 
time! 
 
Early on I wanted to test my plot and syndicate scenario with experts, and, amongst other 
things, to find out more about communication methods within syndicates. Colonel Devon 
Naicker, the national head of narcotics and organised crime from the South African Police 
Service (SAPS) met me13 at his Pretoria office and assisted with my questions. Over the 
subsequent four-year period, during which I have seen him on TV and quoted in newspapers 
about international drug syndicate busts and other drug-related issues, he has responded to 
my requests for help with technical questions, and encouraged my project.  
 
I discovered a similar generosity of spirit with the many people who gave of their time to 
help while I was developing my story. To learn more about the security industry I met14 Andy 
Henry, owner of Firearm & Self Defence Academy (FADSA) in Johannesburg. Henry 
originally trained as a pharmacist and this helped me when discussing the factory in my story, 
and as a police reservist he could tell me about drug busts. I walked out of our meeting 
having learnt, amongst other things, about bullet casings and what kinds of firearms people in 
the covert operations? squads during apartheid would probably have used, as well as likely 
arms the drug syndicate would have used.  
 
These interview opportunities assisted me to move ahead and write certain scenes more 
confidently, for example, the Dazzlers, the night factory, and Kabelo at The General?s 
property scenes. Talking about my plot also helped me to think things through. There were 
times when I felt I couldn?t write any more until I had done the research, even though I didn?t 
use much of the technical detail in the final version of the story.  
 
Understanding Don 
 
In my journal I wrote: ?Don decided to stop. Am struggling to find an authentic, compelling 
reason?. Rafiq Mayet, the director of the Crescent of Hope, a drug rehabilitation centre in the 
Magaliesberg, Gauteng, agreed to meet me.15 After he?d answered my questions relating to 
drugs, detection of drugs, and withdrawal, amongst other things, he asked all of the men 
                                                          
13 5 September 2007, Pretoria. 
14 30 July 2009, Johannesburg. 
15 11 August 2009, Magaliesberg. 
22 
 
participating in the residential rehabilitation programme to assemble in the conference room 
and assist me with my questions for my novel. There were about 20 men, aged probably from 
around 16 to 60, who, once I?d explained why I was there, freely offered their experiences, 
opinions and suggestions. 
 
Meeting the director, the supervisor and the men in the rehabilitation programme at the 
Crescent of Hope helped me understand Don?s emotional state, and more about the club drug 
and drug syndicate scenes. The interaction helped me reach a resolution about what made 
Don stop using drugs and want to pull out of being a runner in the drug syndicate. Initially, I 
had conceptualised a scene where he looked in the mirror one day and noticed that the drugs 
had decimated his former good looks and athletic physique. He?d recently seen Kabelo, who 
reminded him of what a mess he?d made of his life, and had told him that he was washing his 
hands of Don, despite their close friendship. I ran the mirror part of this idea past the men in 
the programme, and they shook their heads. They told me that as an addict when you look in 
the mirror you only see your former self. They said it was only when you had lost everything, 
and you were on the streets, or had some enormous crisis, like being arrested and thrown in 
jail and experienced the harshness of prison life, for example, that you face what your life has 
become, and reflect on what you have lost. During revisions, I amplified the terror of Don?s 
experience with the club owner and Pit Bull, and the subsequent near-death assault, and 
hoped that it would resonate authentically for any readers who?d experienced drug syndicate 
life in some way. 
 
In concluding this section of my essay, I?d like to reflect on a scene and plot element in 
Jikeleza Labyrinth that had worried me regarding plausibility. It is the part where Kabelo tells 
the others that his mother had left behind a note with three hand-drawn hearts, with a circle 
around the middle heart. The note said: ?Love you both. Uziphathe kakuhle?.16 How likely 
was it that she would do that? It bothered me until I recalled an experience from 1986 during 
the State of Emergency. A small group of us, women activists, decided to monitor The 
Ecumenical Centre, where SPEAK and many other non-governmental organisations? offices 
were housed, from a building opposite. There had generally been security police raids, crack 
downs and detentions in and around Durban, and although it sounds somewhat na?ve now, we 
felt it important that we did some surveillance. Suddenly soldiers, in Casspirs, pulled up 
                                                          
16 Translation from isiXhosa: ?Stay safe?.  
23 
 
outside, jumped out, and stood with guns pointed up towards the building we were in. The 
street outside was filled with security force vehicles and soldiers. It was chilling. I looked 
from the window I was standing next to back to one of the women with us. She was at a desk, 
frantically scribbling a note to her two small children. 
 
Language 
 
Using some Afrikaans and isiXhosa dialogue in the novel felt instinctive because, along with 
English, they are the main languages one hears in the Eastern Cape. Vuyo Fatman, a member 
of my MA programme class, assisted me with translations, as well as with feedback on a 
close-to-final version of the novel. This was invaluable assistance, especially since Vuyo?s 
roots are in the Eastern Cape, and she took a keen interest in the development of my story 
from the beginning.  
 
Writing character- and action-driven fiction  
 
When asked in an interview whether she knew how The Secret Life of Bees would end when 
she began writing the novel, Sue Monk Kidd replied: 
When I began the novel, not only did I have no idea of the ending, but I was clueless 
about the middle ? As I neared the conclusion, I knew some aspects of the ending 
but not all of them. (Monk Kidd, 2003, interview: 12)  
 
Although I had a sense of Jikeleza Labyrinth?s opening and ending, and just some scene 
sketches in between, writing in a character- and action-drive way often made me feel anxious. 
It was the opposite way in which I write most of my nonfiction, which is carefully briefed, 
planned and structured from beginning to end, with some allowance for creativity in the 
writing process. I did not have a thoroughly worked out plot, like some adventure writers, 
such as Anthony Horowitz, say they do before they start the actual writing. This is an entry in 
one of my journals in late 2008:  
The puzzle pieces emerge as you write. A broad idea of the narrative, then let things 
happen. It is more nerve-racking for a first time writer because of worrying that it 
wouldn?t cohere. My worry is mainly the skull and how to resolve (link with The 
General). 
 
It was finally in late November 2009, when writing the chapter where Anneliese takes 
Rebecca up the river to the apartheid-era torture site, that the skull was resolved as probably 
belonging to The General?s brother. I had felt for some time before that the skull was linked 
24 
 
to The General?s life story, but had shuffled between it belonging to his sister, girlfriend or 
wife. When the puzzle piece finally fell into place, it was both a relief, and also somehow felt 
very obvious. Despite The General being part of the drug syndicate, I felt compassion for 
him. At a Narrative Journalism Conference,17 Zakes Mda said, ?You as writers must care for 
your characters ? even stone throwers and villains?. He said that when you understand the 
villain, ?you understand the humanity of the villain?. In the same lecture, he said, ?Ubuntu 
guides fictional characters ? treat them all with generosity and compassion. Don?t judge 
them. Let readers decide. Once you get to know a character, understand their actions?.  
 
Anne Lamott also wrote about compassion and understanding your characters, no matter who 
they are: 
As you learn who your characters are, compassion for them will grow. There 
shouldn?t be just a single important character in your work for whom you have 
compassion. You need to feel it even for the villain ? in fact, especially for the villain. 
Life is not like formula fiction. The villain has a heart, and the hero has great flaws. 
You?ve got to pay attention to what each character says, so you can know each of 
their hearts. (Lamott, 1995: 69) 
 
A shift happened during the course of writing the story. In 2007, I had written a small scene 
for one of the last chapters, where Kabelo confronts The General. I wrote in my journal: 
The General says, ?I saw you there, different colours, being equal. I didn?t fight to 
destroy the next generation. I didn?t struggle for drugs kind of death. I don?t want to 
get rich on other people?s suffering?.  
 
When I re-read it I was sure my readers would roll their eyes. I deleted it, and realised with 
even more certainty how, as the novel progresses, the writer gets to know the characters, and 
understands their psychology and motives; through action character is revealed, and I was 
reminded about not using a novel as a platform for promoting an agenda. When I re-wrote 
that scene in December 2009, The General had become hardened, cynical and opportunist ? 
although I did feel compassion for him because of his political disillusionment, and anguish 
at not knowing what had happened to his activist brother.  
 
I tried time and again when writing the scene at the rondavels on The General?s property to 
see if Kabelo could feel compassion and forgiveness for The General, but I understood when 
he couldn?t: anger, disgust and heart break were his uppermost emotions. Nevertheless, 
Kabelo was prepared to give The General a way out so that the rest of the syndicate, and 
                                                          
17 Tools for Storytelling, organised by frayintermedia, Johannesburg, 21 May 2008. 
25 
 
corrupt cops, could be bust and prosecuted. Pit Bull killed Kabelo?s mother; The General 
disposed of her body in the sea. Finally knowing what happened to his mother was a relief to 
Kabelo; that she was taken out to sea was something that comforted rather than horrified him; 
the sea was always there. 
 
The writing process and participation in the MA programme workshops 
 
Being new to fiction writing, I used the proposal phase as an opportunity to read widely, and 
to discover more about point of view, plot and character development, premise and themes. 
The MA workshop programme was stimulating and useful for writing to deadline, and for 
giving and receiving feedback.  
 
I am used to giving and receiving feedback; my nonfiction work is commissioned writing, I 
have been part of several writing groups, and have been a mentor for nonfiction writers. At 
SPEAK in the 1980s we wrote collectively and critiqued our work vigorously. It wasn?t 
always easy. Nevertheless I can only describe the MA workshop environment as ?character 
building?. You, the writer, remain silent and make notes while everyone takes turns to give 
feedback on the work you have sent to them a week before. What fascinated me was how, 
after the first round of feedback, another layer of discussion, more often than not reflecting 
on and interrogating the first, and offering new suggestions and recommendations took place, 
almost like a second, deeper dive. Sometimes participants retracted earlier views, or offered 
new insights, analysis and references for reading. Only after this was it the writer?s turn to 
respond to the feedback. The discipline of listening before engaging with one?s class?s 
feedback worked well for me. I picked up on general weaknesses, like over-description, to 
revise and strengthen. Some class members gave detailed comments on the text, which I 
found very useful; it is helpful to know where there are weaknesses, and it is also important 
to hear about the parts where your writing seems to be working, or the story particularly 
interested or entertained. About half of Jikeleza Labyrinth was presented in the workshop, 
which I consider my first phase of writing. During my second phase I wrote without feedback 
until the first full draft of the novel was completed and presented to my supervisor. I enjoyed 
working this way, writing with more confidence and skill in the second phase, as a result of 
the learning process in the first.  
 
26 
 
Participating in the Caine Prize Workshop18 in April 2008 was a turning point for me in 
developing more confidence in fiction writing. There were 12 participants from seven 
African countries; some were short-listed Caine Prize for African Writing writers. We were 
brought to the workshop for ten days with the sole purpose of writing short stories. Each one 
of us had to leave behind a short story. All the participants? short stories were published in 
The Caine Prize for African Writing, 8th Annual Collection: jambula tree and other stories19. 
The opportunity of dedicated time in which to create and complete a short story, having a 
diverse group of participants to engage with both formally and informally, and the presence 
of facilitators who gave feedback on our writing was stimulating, and on my return I was 
more confident in writing Jikeleza Labyrinth.  
 
The benefit of having a range of supervisors in class resulted in an unexpected spin-off for 
me: one of the supervisors invited me to submit some unpublished chapters for a high-school 
publication he was developing. The opening scene of Jikeleza Labyrinth was published in the 
anthology,20 where it is used to highlight point of view.  
 
When stuck with a scene, I often drew in my sketchbook. One example was trying to get Don 
out of the hospital; another was getting Kabelo onto The General?s property. I drew several 
versions of The General?s property and fencing around it. I looked at photographs of 
properties around Chintsa and in the more rural parts of the Eastern Cape. I had Kabelo 
walking up and down the dirt road in my mind?s eye, trying to work out how he would get in. 
It was like playing a Harry Potter PlayStation game where you try endlessly and 
unsuccessfully to find the door through which Harry Potter gets to the next level so he can 
vanquish an enemy or retrieve a vital object. Initially I wasn?t even sure what The General?s 
property and its buildings looked like. It was through drawing and redrawing the location, 
and looking at photographs as a tool to stimulate my imagination that I eventually worked it 
out. In addition to sketches, I used mind maps extensively to think through character, scene, 
relationships, and plot. 
 
                                                          
18 Monkey Valley, Noordhoek, Western Cape. 
19 The title of my short story is ?Where you came from?. 
20 Compiled by Chris Thurman, titled Text BITES ? South African poems, plays, stories and non-fiction.  
27 
 
Conclusion 
 
I set out to learn about fiction writing through creating an adventure novel for young adults. I 
wanted to offer a South African story that entertained and resonated, and offered the reader a 
chance to escape, and perhaps, to reflect on some of the themes, like trust, loyalty, addiction, 
loss, friendship, first love, and choices, that surfaced through the story. 
 
In a speech called The Danger of a Single Story, Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie, author of 
Purple Hibiscus, a story set in postcolonial Nigeria of 15-year old Kambili, growing up under 
increasingly difficult family conditions, said: 
Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to 
malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break 
the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity. (Adichie, 2009)  
 
I hope, after putting Jikeleza Labyrinth into a drawer for a few months, and taking it out to 
work further on strengthening it, I am able to find a publisher, and that South African 
teenagers will enjoy it for the entertaining adventure it is meant to be. Along the way, I will 
be very satisfied if it can ?empower? and ?humanize? in any small way.
28 
 
Bibliography 
 
Works cited 
 
Adichie, Chimimanda  
2009  Video and transcript of Adichie?s speech The Danger of a Single Story, see 
www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html 
filmed July 2009, posted October 2009 and retrieved 14.04.10.  
 
Egri, Lajos 
2004 The Art of Dramatic Writing ? Its Basis in the Creative Interpretation of 
Human Motives. New York: Touchstone. 
 
Elbow, Peter 
1981 Writing with Power ? Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process. New 
York: Oxford University Press. 
 
Frey, James N 
1994 How to Write a Damn Good Novel, II: Advanced Techniques for Dramatic 
Storytelling. New York. St. Martin?s Press. 
 
Lamb, Nancy 
2001 The Writer?s Guide to Crafting Stories for Children. Ohio, USA: Writer?s 
Digest Books, an imprint of F&W Publications. 
 
Lamott, Anne 
1995 bird by bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. New York: First Anchor 
Books. 
 
Leggett, Ted 
2001 Rainbow Vice: The Drugs and Sex Industries in the New South Africa. Cape 
Town: David Philip.  
 
Monk Kidd, Sue  
2003 The Secret Life of Bees. Author interview at the end of the novel: A 
conversation with Sue Monk Kidd. London: Penguin Books Ltd. 
 
Perlberg, Deborah 
2006  The Complete Idiot?s Guide to Writing for Young Adults. New York: Alpha 
Books, published by the Penguin Group. 
 
Prose, Francine 
2007 Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those 
Who Want to Write Them. New York: Harper Perennial. 
 
Sawyer, Robert 
1996  On Writing. Point of View: Two Heads aren?t Always Better than One, 
http://www.sfwriter.com/ow retrieved 02 .01.2007. 
29 
 
 
SPEAK 
Dec 1988 ? Jan 1989   
?A Fighting Life?. Issue 22. Durban: SPEAK Collective. 
 
The Paris Review Interviews vol. II 
2007 Interview with Peter Carey The Art of Fiction. Issue 177. New York: Picador. 
 
Vogler, Christopher 
1998 The Writer?s Journey: Mythical Structure for Writers 2nd edition. California: 
Michael Wiese Productions. 
 
Watts, Nigel 
2003   Writing a Novel. London: Hodder Education. 
 
 
References  
 
Adichie, Chimimanda Adichie: Purple Hibiscus (2005) London: Harper Perennial. 
 
Burgess, Melvin: junk (1997) London: Penguin Books. 
 
Ferguson, Melinda: Smacked (2005) Cape Town: Oshun Books, imprint of Struik Publishers. 
 
Haddon, Mike: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night (2004) London: Penguin. 
 
Harris, Peter: In a Different Time (2008) Cape Town: Umuzi, Random House, Struik. 
 
Horowitz, Anthony: the Alex Rider series, including Eagle Strike (2005), Scorpia (2005) and 
Ark Angel (2005) London: Walker Books. 
 
Ibbotson, Eva: Journey to the River Sea (2002) London: Macmillan Children?s Books. 
 
Joffe, Pita: Creative Gardening with Indigenous Plants, A South African Guide (2001) 
Pretoria: Briza. 
 
Kingsolver, Barbara: The Poisonwood Bible (2000) London: Faber & Faber. 
 
Le Carr?, John: The Constant Gardener (2001) London: Hodder & Stoughton. 
 
Mda, Zakes: The Heart of Redness (2001) Cape Town: Oxford University Press. 
 
Meyer, Stephanie: the Twilight series: Twilight (2007), New Moon (2008), Eclipse (2008) 
and Breaking Dawn (2008) London: Atom, Little, Brown and Company. 
 
Nicol, Mike and Hichens, Joanne: Out to Score (2006) Houghton: Random House. 
 
Pullman, Philip: His Dark Materials Trilogy: Northern Lights (1998), The Subtle Knife 
(2007) and The Amber Spyglass (2007) London: Scholastic Books. 
 
30 
 
Rowling, JK: the Harry Potter series: Harry Potter and the Philosopher?s Stone (1997), 
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1998), Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 
(1999), Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2000), Harry Potter and the Order of the 
Phoenix (2004), Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2005), Harry Potter and the 
Deathly Harrows (2007) London: Bloomsbury. 
 
Roy, Arundhati: The God of Small Things (2004) London: Harper Perrenial. 
 
Sinclair, Ian; Hockey, Phil and Tarboton, Warwick: Sasol Birds of Southern Africa 3rd edition 
(2002) Cape Town: Struik. 
 
The Caine Prize for African Writing, 8th Annual Collection: jambula tree and other stories 
(2008) Auckland Park: Jacana Media. 
 
Thurman, Chris (Comp.): Text BITES ? South African Poems, Plays, Stories and Non-fiction 
(2009) South Africa: Oxford University Press. 
 
Van de Ruit, John: Spud (2007) Johannesburg: Penguin Books South Africa. 
 
 
Reference to acknowledgements 
 
My acknowledgements for both essay and novel are to be found at the end of the novel.