Storytelling, especially in Africa, is woven into the very fabric of human experience – often appearing as a cultural pastime or a motivational tool, sometimes as a psychological necessity. The latter is particularly true for our young people and arguably more now than ever before. In the words of Chinua Achebe, “Storytellers are a threat. They threaten all champions of control. They frighten usurpers of the right-to-freedom of the human spirit.” Stories offer young people a map for life, helping them process their experiences, form their identity and develop a sense of agency. However, without the use of rich description, they can miss the mark. 

In a previous article, “Every child has a 'Magic Door' story AI wouldn't know: tell it to the world”, we spoke about the use of sensory language and the importance of writers connecting with their feelings to do this well. Let’s take a closer look at how we can use sensory language to deliver stories that hit the target. For when stories speak to the senses, they speak to the soul.

Why feelings matter

Sensory language activates the imagination by grounding readers in physical and emotional realities. Rather than telling them what to feel, it invites the reader to experience the feeling firsthand. The work of the writer is to fully immerse the reader in the world of the character, and this immersion is particularly crucial for young people who are still developing emotional awareness and language for their inner lives.

Sensory storytelling also supports comprehension and memory. For instance, young readers are more likely to remember a scene where a mango was "so ripe the juice ran down his chin" than a generic description of “tasty fruit.” In Atinuke’s The No. 1 Car Spotter, the author describes the sun as being, “like a drum on my back". This simple simile creates a sense of heat, discomfort and insistence that in turn makes us feel worried for the character. Now we are invested and want them to find shade. Now we are no longer just reading, we are feeling empathy for the character. Now we are connecting the description to our own experiences and beginning to process the same.

The science of scensory language

The sensory parts of the brain overlap with the emotional centres such as the amygdala and the insular cortex. Neuroscientific research shows that when we read or imagine sensory details, like the crack of thunder or the feeling of cold rain, these areas of the brain are activated as if we are experiencing them ourselves. This is what makes narrative empathy possible, and a well-crafted scene that describes a character trembling at the sound of thunder for instance does more than describe fear, it triggers neural pathways associated with fear in the reader, making the emotion real, embodied and memorable.

In contexts where the open discussion of feelings is discouraged or not possible, stories can act as emotional surrogates. A child may not be able to say, "I feel displaced," but may connect deeply to a character who is “listening to the unfamiliar night sounds of a strange city and missing the crickets of home.” These sensory motifs help young readers recognise their own feelings.

In many African communities, where mental health is a taboo subject, literature can fill an emotional gap, in which reading becomes both refuge and rehearsal for real-life situations. Yet, today’s young readers face increasing competition for attention from digital and social media platforms, which are engineered to activate reward pathways in the brain, especially the mesolimbic dopamine system. These platforms offer a rapid, high-stimulation experience that fragments attention and leaves little room for deep emotional or reflective engagement.

In contrast, reading narrative fiction, particularly stories enriched with sensory language, activates the brain's default mode network. This system is associated with autobiographical memory and emotional regulation. As cognitive psychologist Raymond Mar has shown, reading literary fiction improves our capacity to understand other people's emotions and intentions, thereby enhancing empathy. Readers of well-crafted stories physically and emotionally simulate the experience of the characters. This internal mirroring enables the development of “narrative identity” or, in other words, our ability to integrate life events into a coherent story of who we are. As young people engage in this process, they begin to understand themselves not as passive recipients of experience, but as protagonists capable of transformation.

Developmental stages and reader needs

The sensory needs of young readers pass through distinct developmental phases, and effective sensory writing meets these emotional and imaginative needs at each stage. There are four main categories: early childhood, middle childhood, early teens, and older teens

Early childhood (ages 1–6)

Focus: Sensory play, repetition, emotional naming.
Language: Onomatopoeia, bright images, rhythm.
Themes: Discovery, comfort, identity.

Young readers respond to the sound and feel of words that mirror their own physical play. Niki Daly’s Jamela’s Dress uses vivid descriptions of colour, texture, and motion as Jamela swirls through her community. This is the most important time for firing the imagination, and it can be the most fun for a parent or caregiver too. Be prepared to spend time (it’s not wasted) reading stories to your little ones. It’s obligatory that you do all the character voices and allow them to touch and turn the pages. Being the time of your life when you are also the most exhausted, it has its challenges. I have often fallen asleep while reading a bedtime story to my toddler! And the ability to hide your anguish when they ask for the story to be repeated as soon as it’s finished, is a life skill!

Middle childhood (ages 7–11)

Focus: Adventure, fairness, belonging.
Language: Descriptive action, nature, food, emotions.
Themes: Curiosity, resilience

Sensory language connects injustice (a very important focus here) to lived experience. In Journey to Jo’burg by Beverley Naidoo, the landscape – dusty roads, prickling sun, parched throats – mirrors the emotional tension. Fiction for this age group is often referred to as middle-grade, and this is the time when children begin independent reading. For me, there is nothing more thrilling than when your child begins to read independently for pleasure.

Early teens (ages 12–15)
Focus: Friendship, identity, justice.
Language: Emotional nuance, memory, inner monologue.
Themes: Transformation, moral complexity.

Sensory details invite readers to navigate shifting emotional terrain. Young people in this bracket are crossing over from middle grade into tween or young adult (YA) fiction and it’s much more about relationships. Zukiswa Wanner’s Refilwe, a reimagining of Rapunzel, sets emotional and political tension against the sensory backdrop of rural life and isolation.

‍Older teens (ages 16–18)
Focus: Social critique, self-discovery, relationships.
Language: Symbolism, tone, layered emotions.
Themes: Power, freedom, love.

In general, young people like to read about protagonists who are a few years older and so by this time they are well into Young Adult and Adult fiction.

Developing sensory language

As sensory language is vital for the healthy development of our young people, how do we wield this important tool effectively in our stories? 

First, if you want your reader to feel what your characters feel, you will have to learn to experience the feelings yourself first. The reader cannot possibly begin to process their emotions if you are not willing to lead the way. Pay attention to how your own emotions manifest in your body (sweaty palms, wobbly legs) and then write them down. These physical reactions will help anchor your reader but only if they are genuine and not riddled with cliché. In my young writer groups, I often ask them to describe the taste of honey. They start with the word “sweet”, of course, until I give them some actual honey to taste, then the descriptions are far more real and engaging. Try it at home.

Secondly, but of equal importance, is reading. Read everything you can get your hands on, but particularly make time for good writing. You will be amazed at how quickly your writing (and that of your students if you are a teacher) develops when you read. Audiobooks are excellent, too – remember, we are oral storytellers first! If you want a list of good quality, age-appropriate writing, please get in touch and don’t forget that getting your kids hooked on reading can involve graphic novels, comics and plays, too.

After that, it’s all about technique and practice:

• “Show, don’t tell” helps to draw your reader in. Instead of “She was scared,” try, “She clutched her blanket and stared at the window without blinking.”
• Write what you know, especially in terms of setting: African environments are teeming with sensory cues.
•  Use underrepresented senses: smell and sound can be powerful tools for setting the mood.
• Choose moments wisely: Use rich language at emotional peaks to connect the reader to what the character is feeling, not just to show off! This will create sensory overload and alienate your reader.  

Making sense with the senses

Sensory language is more than craft. It’s a bridge from the page to the reader’s heart, a bridge that can help young people make sense of the world. As writers, educators and guardians of story, we are called not just to entertain but to nourish. Let’s weave words that taste, tremble, sting and soothe into stories that our young people don’t just read but feel. In Africa, despite the relentless march of the digital era, stories are still used powerfully through music and the moonlit tales and teaching of our elders. To return to Chinua Achebe’s quote from the beginning, may our stories continue to threaten the silence and speak boldly to the senses of the next generation.

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