Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [247]
Who has eaten
Her child and her man?
Knock-knock, knock-knock.
Then I remained quiet and Agaat actually started the third verse on her own, rapidly on the in-breath.
Her hunger is great
and her blood is thin
she keeps her heart
on a drawing pin.
Who’s speaking? I ask behind the door.
Me.
Who’s me?
I am me and you are she.
What’s her name?
Agaat.
Agaat who?
Agaat Lourier.
Who is she?
Crawled out of the flea-blanket!
Where does she come from?
Oupa rode a pig!
18 March 1954
Back room door open on a chink. We sit on either side of it on the floor. We sing, we talk, rhymes, songs. Not real sentences yet, but better than nothing. She’s evidently taken in everything, literally every word that I’ve taught her up to now, she can’t be retarded! Everything but. Just Jak that’s nasty. Coon kindergarten, he calls out when he hears us.
20 March 1954
If she doesn’t want to talk to me properly face to face, she doesn’t get food and she stays in her room. That’s the rule. Two days now.
21 March 1954
Back in the corner with the knuckle in the mouth. Ashen-faced, her moles look black. I simply lock her up. She must be taught to obey me. I send Saar to empty the pot. I say at the door what there is to eat. But she must ask properly in a full sentence what I must dish up for her. I’ve run out of patience.
22 March 1954
After three days without food it came at last: ‘May I please have jelly with custard.’
Word for word, said after me, on the in-breath, whispered, eye cast down.
Jelly is for independent people, not parrots, I said. And you look into my eyes when you talk to me, otherwise I don’t hear you.
Gave her a crust of dry bread. Mouth a sour slit, chin out, hungry enough, ate the bread to the last crumb. Obstinate little blighter!
23 March ’54
Caught Saar smuggling food to the back room this afternoon. Keeping key in my bra now. Won’t allow my discipline to be subverted here.
24 March ’54
Breakthrough! At last! Lift the clapper of the slot, up she jumps, dances on one leg, claps hands, sings along gulp-gulp.
Little turkey jumps over the ditch
Little turkey runs from the witch
Then I left the door open, so wouldn’t the little saucebox follow me to the kitchen with the tin plate from the bread. Sits down on the chair, says Thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the food we eat, words swallowed. Couldn’t help laughing. Ate a big plate of food. Let go the spoon when I wasn’t looking, stuffed it in with the hands. Let her be for the time being. Jelly and custard afterwards. What do you say when you’ve eaten food? Blinks slowly with the eyes, head to the front, thank you very much, softly on an in-breath, as if she’s scared I’ll steal her breath. In any case sounds more like imitation than sincerely meant. How does one teach somebody sincerity? What comes first? Sincerity or words of sincerity? But that’s in the future, such distinctions. First just win her confidence to breathe fearlessly in the presence of her benefactor, blink in and out with the eyes, open and closed!
25 March ’54
I stand behind her and pull her ears, do you see the Cape? and I pull harder, do you see the Cape yet? I pull until she makes a sound. The kitchen maids look at me as if I’m mad. Ai, nooi, they say, mind your own business, I say.
28 March ’54
She must learn to speak on the out-breath. I blow on her eyelids until she opens her eyes in the morning. She keeps them shut tight, I blow and blow. Look into my eyes, Agaat! Blow out the breath of night! Sing: Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise, sing: Higgledy, piggledy, pop, the dog has eaten the mop. You can only sing on an out-breath, on plenty of out-breath, sing Praise the Lord rise up rejoicing, oh my soul what rich reward. She looks at me with the heavens-what’s-up-with-you-look. I press my finger on the mole on her cheek. Here, I say, is your exclamation mark. I count the moles in her neck. Here are your nine stars.
29 March ’54
First smile!! An unseasonal little