Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [148]
17 December ’66 evening
Tonight after Agaat left I went and asked Jakkie what the ‘last story’ is he says it’s his & Agaat’s secret he’s not allowed to tell it. Agaat will bewitch him if he does. Bewitch how bewitch? I ask. White and black into a flycatcher says Jakkie ask Pappa. How does Pappa know? I ask. He also knows all the stories that begin with once upon a time doesn’t he says Jakkie. Heaven knows what J. puts into the child’s head but if I as much as write a little play for Jakkie he says I teach him attitudes. Jakkie has attitudes enough of his own. A. and I split our sides laughing at how precocious he is with his cloak and his sword as the prince in The Magic Flute. Wrote a simple version with songs for the children’s concert. Also to help get him to play with other children. Jakkie says he’d rather be Papageno alone in the forest because the prince & all the other children are too wimpish. Jak walks out in the third act in front of all the people when they put it on in the little hall last night. That husband of mine does have the knack of embarrassing me.
Witsand 18 December ’66
Here in a drawer dug up an old black bathing costume old-fashioned with the little frill round the edge & wire in the bust must still be Ma’s. It’s much too big but I thought I’d give it to A. perhaps she wants to swim. Please just at a time and place where she won’t offend because the beach is for whites only. Not that I needed to say it. She knows hr place. She will most probably never even dare it but then I’ve at least given her the opportunity to enjoy herself I feel. She flattens her gaze and takes it without thank you.
Witsand 20 December 1966
Woke up early this morning not even light yet just a little moon then the gate squeaked and it was A. barefoot with her embroidery basket & with a purpose in mind I could see from her bearing. So waited for a while first before following in hr tracks. Far away on the beach she was walking a little black dot with white braces & then I followed hr duck-ducking behind the first row of dunes for almost an hour then it was quarter to 5 & day breaking & windless but the sea roaring so that if I were to call she wouldn’t hear me. So there she went & stood with hr face to the water upright on parade & she makes the same odd gestures as that evening on the mountain with hr arms extended in front of hr as if she’s indicating points of the compass or explicating the horizon. The sea was high with the springtide & a rank of black musselcrackers was also in attendance peering oceanwards & I smell kelp & clamour their legs are so red the creatures. Next thing there she is taking off hr apron and hr black dress & they fly te-whee-te-whee, off, off with their red beaks over the black water & she folds her clothes slowly neatly item by item I thought if there’d been a hanger she’d have hung them from the break of day but not the cap that’s pulled extra firmly over the forehead & there all the time I couldn’t believe my eyes she’s wearing Ma’s old bathing costume under hr clothes it hangs on her like the skin of a bat & she takes the white crocheted jersey out of the basket & she puts it on over the rest. Who is she scared will see hr kettle-spout arm hr legs