Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [125]
You served Jak and the vet indoors. They were quiet.
That little coloured girl of yours deserves a medal, Thom Smuts said after a while to Jak with his mouth full of egg.
That’s Milla’s department, Jak replied, and gestured with his head in your direction where you were pouring coffee. It’s she who should get the compliment.
my nurse takes me under my own law she counts my blessings for me minces my meals flushes my guts wipes my arse twists my buttons into their holes coat-buttons blouse-buttons jersey-buttons knots my shoelaces girds my buckles zips up my side-zips back-zips breast-zips my hooks my eyes shrouds my body closes off my openings she cleanses me combs me powders me paints me I am a well-rounded woman an effigy of a woman a scarecrow on a broomstick
doll and gaat go to town they pretend nothing is wrong gaat starched mrs de wet packaged they step with tiny tiny steps four legs and a walking stick they nod tiny tiny nods good morning good morning good day they invite the world to tea and cake mrs de wet is sixty-seven her hands they lie in her lap she drinks through a straw her vitamins for who would ever drink tea through a straw?
next to her waits her walking stick the finches twitter in the rushes who’s afraid of a broomstick who’s afraid of a walking stick?
o who’s afraid of a walking stick
the first one was a knob-stick but soon the knob was too knobbly the second had a crook-neck but soon the neck was too crooked the third had a finger-grip but soon the grip started to slip the fourth was of light metal with rubber on the tip and rubber on the grip and a silver hoop to support the wrist
and then there were two of the same
one for each elbow
hopalong down the passage a clumsy camel on the stoep calump calump here comes kamilla a bat on crutches a gothic letter who said we do not hear the coming of death?
the fifth had four legs and a name in chrome on the shaft
viking strider
the strider itself had a calf-foot rest she walks like a sentinel in athens her head on her neck a pitch-black tassel her heart waggles like a gyroscope
3 October 1961
What more must I think up to get hr down? Braying hides ploughing waterproofing tarpaulins seeder-sums! All in vain! It’s a year later & again it’s exactly the same damn nonsense as last year. Seems seasonal. Don’t want to end up in those maelstroms with her again.
So tonight the macaroni comes to the table again burnt to a cinder & Jak takes one look & gets up & drives away at speed. Waited till Jakkie was away & took a mouthful of J.’s brandy to calm myself & then went & knocked at A’s door. Said she had to come to the kitchen immediately. At first she won’t utter yea or nay & stares at the ground.
Now you’re going to look at me my girl I say look me in the eyes & tell me what in heaven’s name is wrong this time? A small flickering on her face but I keep my cool—would it do now to give hr the idea that she’s won here & I ask: What on God’s earth must I do with you to get you good again? & then of course I said the wrong thing: I can’t live any longer with such a person in my house. But wouldn’t she give me a quick look. I’m not in your house she says I’m in the outside room right there I almost explode with anger but I restrain myself & ask again: What must I do to get you good?
I want a fireplace, she says. I ask you!
Full of specifications on top of that: a grid & fire-irons & a mantel-piece. In my room. It’s damp. Its walls are mouldering. I’m cold.
Just like that full in my face.
It’s October I say. It’ll be winter again she says. It’s winter when I have my birthday.
Oh Lord is that what’s been going on all the time! With Jakkie’s birthday being in August A.’s in July of course went by disregarded again. How can she expect of me to remember that as well? But then for the sake of sweet peace I said I’m sorry & I said: A fireplace—what do you think of yourself! She gave me that look of hers & showed with her fingers & she said: