Philip Roth, the American writer, in an essay about Franz Kafka, wrote that while the Czech maestro was penning his masterpieces of darkness and despair, he used to giggle endlessly.

It is deeply tragic, of course, to wake up in the morning to find yourself transformed into a cockroach. But at the same time it is also hugely funny-a case of "I'm only laughing because, if I weren't, I'd be weeping".

It is with feelings similar to these that I came away from one-and-a-half days of the Hefer commission, appointed by President Thabo Mbeki on September 18, and chaired by Judge Joos Hefer, the former acting chief justice of South Africa.

To begin with, what are the commission's terms of reference? Initially, the terms were that an investigation should be made into whether Bulelani Ngcuka, the national director of public prosecutions, was allegedly a spy for the apartheid regime and whether this affected his present behaviour in office.

But the terms were extended 10 days ago by the president to include an investigation into whether Penuell Maduna, the minister of justice, had somehow "abused his position" in terms of his relationship with Ngcuka's office. Or was the commission also supposed to examine whether Maduna had been a spy as well?

This week even Hefer expressed some confusion about what precisely the Maduna part of the inquiry was supposed to entail. Now Hefer does tend, in his dealings with counsel and witnesses, towards the classic Socratic approach. He pretend to know nothing or little about issues and asks others to explain them, all the while knowing perfectly well what the answers will be.

But on Thursday when he asked Norman Arendse SC, counsel for Maduna, how Arendse understood the extended terms of reference, it seemed clear he was genuinely looking for enlightenment.

Point number one : the commission's terms of reference remains fuzzy at the edges.

Then there is the small matter of the president's ostensible reasons for having appointed the commission. If, for example, someone steals a glass, the glass disappears - and this is your reason for investigating the theft. But what, in the case of Ngcuka and Maduna, was the missing glass?

In Ngcuka's case, there were claims published two months ago in the City Press newspaper, a story passed on to that newspaper by a Sunday Times reporter, Ranjeni Munusamy, that Ngcuka had at one time been investigated as a spy by the African National Congress - as, by the way, were many other ANC members.

In the case of Maduna, questions were apparently raised about his role in the investigation by Ngcuka's unit of Jacob Zuma, the deputy president, and in the odd announcement that a prima facie case of bribery existed against the deputy president but that he would not be charged.

Following the City Press story, the claims about Ngcuka were said to be true by Mac Maharaj, the former minister of transport and member of the ANC's national executive committee, and by Mo Shaik, a former ANC intelligence operative. Shaik even flourished papers on television, claiming that these contained proof that Ngcuka had been investigated.

So the "missing glass" would seem to be a desire by the president to put an end to all the claims and counter-claims about the most senior members of the land's justice administration.

And what, on the face of it, could be simpler? All the commission needed to do - at least as far as Ngcuka was concerned - was to call Maharaj, Shaik and Munusamy.

But on Wednesday at the commission, Steven Joseph SC, counsel for Maharaj and Shaik, requested that the men's appearance be postponed until November 17 so that they could have time to obtain certain documents. And on Thursday, Yunus Shaik, their attorney, complained bitterly about the difficulties his clients were experiencing in obtaining documents from government agencies. In short, it seems obvious that Maharaj and Shaik have no written evidence about Ngcuka.

As far Munusamy is concerned, she came to the commission on Thursday accompanied by veteran journalist Raymond Louw, speaking on behalf of the South African National Editors Forum and the Freedom of Expression Institute. Both he and John Campbell, Munusamy's counsel, argued that Munusamy should not be compelled to testify because to do so would flout the constitutional rights of a free press.

Hefer, however, ruled that Munusamy ought to testify - with the proviso that she could object to answering specific questions if she gave reasons for her objections. Campbell immediately said he was taking Hefer's decision on review in the high court.

Point number two : the three people who ought to be able to shed some light one way or another on whether Ngcuka was a spy, have been effectively whisked away from the commission - Maharaj and Shaik until mid-November and Munusamy until Hefer's ruling has been reviewed. If Munusamy's matter ends up going to the constitutional court, we might all be a year older before it is settled.

Hefer also told counsel that the various security agencies, including the police, have all retained attorneys. Anyone wishing to procure documents from them would have to first deal with their lawyers.

Hefer also pointed out that some documents might require security clearance. This could mean that he and most of the people present - excluding Mo Shaik (who apparently still has top security clearance) - might not be allowed to see the papers.

Point number three : it looks as though the road between the relevant documents, if they exist, and the Hefer commission is strewn with obstacles that not even Conan the Barbarian might be able to shift.

Then there is the publicity surrounding the commission. As might be expected, this has flushed all sorts of people out of the shadows. John Bacon, the commission secretary, has received a few communications from people claiming that they have something useful to tell the commission.

Be prepared, in my view, for Ngcuka and Maduna to be accused in the forthcoming weeks of a host of sensational crimes, from plagiarism to money-laundering.

For example, mining magnate Brett Kebble has announced his intention to assist the commission. What he knows about apartheid-era spying escapes my comprehension just now, but doubtless he will address the issue of Maduna's abuse of position.

And the ubiquitous, so-called super-spy Craig Williamson will also be gracing the commission with his presence in coming days.

Who is paying for these shananigans? The taxpayer - that's you and me - and we might be paying, among other things, for the travelling and accommodation costs of Maharaj and Shaik. According to their attorney, they cannot afford these. Hefer told him to apply to the department of justice for such expenses.

In summary : fuzzy terms of reference, the absence of three of the main players, and a bureaucratic minefield awaiting those who want to procure documents that may not even exist.

No wonder I heard the ghost of Kafka giggling as I left Bloemfontein on Friday.

With acknowledgements to Jeremy Gorkin and the Sunday Independent.