Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [229]
20 January
She’s in thrall to my eyes now. She looks everywhere that I look. Ever more complicated bluffing games we play, surprise games, guessing games. I could never have dreamed you can achieve so much with your eyes.
For instance I look past her but she doesn’t look. You’d better see what’s going on there, I signal with my eyes, but she doesn’t look, she holds out. It’s very very pretty! I signal, or, it’s really ugly, or, it’s terribly creepy, or, it’s very nice, or, it’s going to catch you!
At last she looks, mostly there’s nothing in particular and when she looks back I evade her glance, all innocence. Then she comes and stands against me until I look at her. Then I shut my eyes to indicate: Close your eyes. Then I put down a cookie or a sweet somewhere. Then I signal again, look there, behind you is something nice. But then I have to look away until she’s eaten it. I must just take care that she doesn’t react to reward exclusively. There won’t always be a reward. She must simply learn to speak now. You can’t live by looking alone. I take out the duster. She’s going to get Japie, I say, on her backside, if she won’t talk.
21 January 1954
I always have a struggle with her in the mornings, she lies all huddled up and doesn’t want to budge. Just like a little cold animal that has to warm up first. Now I’ve thought up a warming-up exercise. ‘The Greeting to the Sun’ I call it. I demonstrate it to her, first nice and high on the toes, then stretch with one arm, then stretch with the other (the little weak arm I still have to operate for her, but I’m sure it’ll catch up), one big step forward, one big step backward, dip at the knees, down with the head, up with the head, good morning, o mighty king sun!
If she doesn’t want to, I rap her with the stick of the feather duster, that usually does the trick. I simply have to apply discipline here. We’re going to do it every morning, I say, until you jump out of bed in the mornings and do it of your own accord.
22 January
She must guess what I’m looking at, we play, she must point to what I’m looking at. At first the hand was close to the body, just a little protruding finger pointing, this or that, now she’s pointing with the whole arm, has even been running these last two days to the tree or its shadow, or the red-hot pokers, or the row of agapanthus, or the tap, or the fish pond or the stoep steps and then I call the name of the thing: Flower! Stone! Water! then she touches it quickly, as if she’s afraid it’ll bite. Perhaps she learns more from my saying a few words than from my talking non-stop.
27 January
I no longer have to lock her up all the time during the day. She follows me everywhere. Are you my tail, I ask? She only looks for my eyes. I show her in my picture book: Horse’s tail, pig’s tail, sheep’s tail, dog’s tail. There is a little finger pointing now, with its own will and purpose. Horse’s eye, pig’s eye, sheep’s eye, dog’s eye, she shows. I leave the books with her in the room. She pages for herself when I don’t look, but with such cautious fingers as if the pages are scorching her.
30 January
First day without nappy and without accident. This morning there was pee in the pot, so she must have got up by herself in the night, or early this morning. Saar says she poos in the garden when we’re not looking.
Don’t poo in the garden, Aspatat, I say, you’ll get worms again, poo in your pot otherwise you’re not getting any jelly.
1 February
Jelly threat works well. For two days didn’t get any jelly. Comes into the kitchen today to show me with the eyes: Come and see! Come and see! until I follow her down the passage. Look! the eyes signal. Look! the protruding finger points. A fine turd in the pot it was!
Oh sis! I say, one doesn’t show people one’s poo, it’s impolite, you say nicely: Excuse me, I’m going