Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [210]
Y·O·U, exclamation mark, I spell, N·O·O·N·D·A·Y W·I·T·C·H.
Well I never, says Agaat, how’s that for a parting shot. What else?
S·A·R·C·A·S·T·I·C, I spell, Y·O·U K·N·O·W W·H·A·T I M·E·A·N.
No, I don’t know, says Agaat, you’ll just have to spell it out.
F·I·R·E O·N·T. M·O·U·N·T·A·I·N, I spell. I roll my eyes at the flower arrangement.
Yes, doesn’t it look pretty with the blue, says Agaat.
If I’m trying to be difficult here on my deathbed, is the message, she’ll pretend to think I’m senile.
Can there be a doubler barrel? How do I deal with it?
B·R·O·W·N S·U·I·T·C·A·S·E, I spell.
Where, when, why, question mark, Agaat taps for me on her scraps of paper. They flutter like leaves. I blink Y·E·S Y·E·S exclamation mark.
She puts down the stick. She reformulates my question for me in my own strain, with all my modulations of indignation. And with her own increment of pepper.
What, I ask you for the how-manieth time, happened to your brown suitcase that I put on the half-shelf of the washstand in the outside room, on the day of your birthday, twelfth July in the year of our Lord nineteen sixty, when you moved in there? What happened to all your possessions from the back room? To the pretty dresses that I hung up there for you on the railing behind the curtain, a red and a blue and a yellow one, specially made for you with my highly pregnant body and all? To your first shoes that I had bronzed?
Absolutely right, I blink. How excellently you can guess at the senile thoughts of an old woman. What is your reply to this?
Agaat stands back a little, hands on her stomach. She looks me straight in the eye. The cutting-up of an ox is her reply. Fluently she recites.
Sirloin, cut into flat slices and fried in a pan.
Wing rib, suitable for pot-roasting, bones may also be removed and meat rolled.
Flat rib, suitable for pot-roasting, may be rolled.
Prime rib, suitable for pot-roasting, may be rolled.
Mid-rib, suitable for pot-roasting, may be rolled.
Silverside and topside, suitable for corned beef, pot-roasting, biltong. Shank, may be roasted, but more suitable for salting and boiling.
Thick flank, may be salted and boiled or stewed.
Cheek, can be stewed.
Neck, for soup or stewing.
Collarbone, for soup.
Brisket, best suited to pickling and boiling.
Bones, are generally sold to kaffirs.
Tail, soup and stew.
Hoof and shin, brawn.
Pauper’s rib, for soup and stew.
Do you want to hear about the cuts of the birthday hanslam as well? Agaat asks, the nice fresh braai chops for the nice fresh kitchen-skivvy? The two of them, skivvy and lamb, both cut up much better than an old tough cow, let me tell you that!
She falls in with her stick. Oh Japie is my darling she sings, so early in the morning.
Next? she asks.
V·E·R·Y F·U·N·N·Y, I spell.
She waits for the follow-up. Doesn’t bat an eyelid. Lets me spill my guts. Fills me in. Tops me up.
W·H·A·T W·E·R·E Y·O·U D·O·I·N·G F·I·R·S·T N·I·G·H·T O·N M·O·U·N·T·A·I·N I·N Y·O·U·R U·N·I·F·O·R·M, question mark. S·A·W Y·O·U W·I·T·H B·I·N·O·C·S, full stop. F·U·N·N·Y S·T·E·P·S + L·A·T·E·R W·I·T·S·A·N·D E·A·R·L·Y M·O·R·N·I·N·G I·N Y·O·U·R C·L·O·T·H·E·S I·N W·A·V·E·S, full stop. S·A·T·A·N·I·C R·I·T·E·S, exclamation mark. M·A·I·D·S S·A·Y Y·O·U A·R·E P·O·S·S·E·S·S·E·D W·A·N·D·E·R A·R·O·U·N·D A·T N·I·G·H·T + L·E·A·V·E M·E H·E·R·E A·L·O·N·E, full stop. N·O·T T·A·K·E·N I·N B·Y Y·O·U·R I·N·N·O·C·E·N·C·E, comma, W·I·T·C·H, excla mation mark. = M·Y D·E·A·T·H N·O·T E·N·O·U·G·H F·O·R Y·O·U, question mark. O·N W·H·A·T C·L·I·M·A·X A·R·E Y·O·U S·E·T, question mark, swearword.
Agaat stands back from the chart, the wall full of fluttering bits of paper. She presses against her cap. She places the duster in the corner. This time her answer is taken from the embroidery book.
Shadow-work, she says, is a form of white embroidery that is within the reach of all because the technique is very simple. It is suitable for table linen, bedspreads, pillow covers for babies, bridal veils, blouses, christening robes, children’s clothes. Shadow-work is done on transparent cloth and from Italy we get special