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By Root 954 0

have become detached from the fiddling world and free of god’s odds and ends a woman’s things rings shards reels that slip now and roll over the planks there was a time when I could sew could hem could fix could cast on stitches make buttonholes and knit could punch holes stitch a seam could pin on pin up hook could pump the singer’s pedal reconcile the world with itself close its flaps weave its threads sew on its sequins and fill mattresses with its coir and look upon it and find it was good underneath down here there are even shirt-patterns dress patterns trouser-patterns take them by all means do with them as you see fit from now on I’m an unadorned woman my ravels and my rags nobody can assemble there is no map or direction with which to navigate me.

Saturday 11 March 1972 four o’clock

A. vanished into thin air I suppose not odd that she’s unhappy. She was looking forward so much to Jakkie’s being here this weekend from Heidelberg but he brought along a friend & they left immediately with Jak for an air show in Cape Town. Will only be back tomorrow afternoon late. A. had cooked & baked but they took along only a little bit of her biltong and dried-fruit sweets for the road. You can give him & his pal each a nice food parcel to take back to the hostel I say but the face remains set on sulk. Must go & look for hr.

11 March six o’clock

Have just been to cast an eye over the milking so there was Julies flirting with A. Hey there he says my griddle-cake how about it supposedly to the cow but I can hear it’s actually for A. He doesn’t look at her he talks straight into the udder that he’s milking. For what does she walk around sniff-sniff in the hills all day just like a wildcat? is she perhaps ruttish redcat tigercat? ggggh does she hiss at me? They say all she sticks in & pulls out is a needle & a rag stick stick snip snip she doesn’t look left or right pity about those titties about that bottom that dried-out sweet potato. A. pretends not to hear shirrrr-shirrrr she strains the first milk of one cow after the other.

Thought to myself Julies you’d better keep your trap shut my boy but I didn’t want to interfere & I wanted to see what would happen & made myself small behind the tank. It’s certainly not the first time but she just remains silent & he carries on.

No, he says, his foot is skew since the axle hit him head-over-heels but he knows Gaat was there Gaat wasn’t she his little nurse that day. Didn’t he feel it how she squeezed shut his veins so he didn’t bleed empty how she doctored him that he didn’t kick the bucket didn’t he see how she cut white bands with her little shiny scissors snip snip snip how she bandaged his head nicely pinned all the loose ends together nicely with hr safety pins. But this foot of his just won’t get fixed the toes keep dragging sideways in the sand just like a hub-less wheel he’ll never get to the moon all cripple like this but who wants to see the moon if he can gravy sweet potato? He thought by himself perhaps old shuffle-shoe could have a chance to snitch a snatch with the little laundry-mangle between them they have three good legs & three arms & that’s enough for getting up on the lucerne-rick. Shipps-shipps he carries on uncouthly with the teats. Just take off he says beforehand for Djeesussake that cap with the point & that snow-white apron otherwise he schemes he’s riding in the redcross police van peeeeeep paaaaaaawp. He gives hr a flowery headscarf he gives hr a red flowery dress with a sash around the middle then what does she say about that? Shorrr-shorrr he milks rudely with his head pressed into the cow’s stomach & A. pretends not to see any of it.

Do I wish she had a heart? Do I fear it? The heart or the absence of one?

1 May 1973

A. not herself since Jakkie has been at boarding school in Heidelberg. Works herself to a standstill before he comes home every weekend sweeps the garden paths scrubs the stoep washes curtains & polishes door-knobs & all the copper & silver & bakes the cakes & tarts & pies that he likes. Knits him beautiful cable-pattern