Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [306]
Agaat takes up position at the foot of the bed. She looks at me.
It’s good, Agaat, it will go well, I wish you good cheer, and as much peace as is possible.
The ounooi says, Agaat interprets, she says thank you that you’ve come to greet her. You are all good people, she says. She wishes you all peace and prosperity, also for the coming Christmas and a blessed new year. She says that from now one you must be given two sheep every Christmas and a whole tolly as well and a vat of vaaljapie as always. She says she knows you’ll work well with me. Just as well as I’ve worked with her all my life here on Grootmoedersdrift.
Amen, says Kadys in a professional mourner’s voice. Amen, the others mumble under their breaths. Dawid squashes his hat on his head.
A suppressed giggle? I see one child nudging another in the ribs. The group is starting to disintegrate.
Agaat opens the book where she’s been holding her finger. The cover is worn, dark blue. She announces:
From the section Soil and factors that can influence plant growth, from the chapter An unchecked danger, from the paragraph, The erosion process. Page three hundred and fifty-five.
It is written there:
Many of us will still remember that not so many years ago there were in certain districts very beautiful large and famous vleis covered in wild clover, vlei grass, and other useful plant species; in which there were also to be found pools and pans filled all year round with clean clear water. Surrounding these pans were bulrushes (Prionium serratum ), sedge (Cyperus textilis) and other beautiful plants. Where are the vleis today? They have altogether disappeared and in their stead you find only a nest of hideous ditches, and where of old wild clover displayed its pretty flowers, there is now just here and there a hideous little bitter-berry (Chrysocoma tenuifolia). There is no drop of water to be found because the network of ditches forms such a perfect conduit that, as soon as the rainwater touches the earth, it is flushed away to other and bigger ditches that can take it away further until it ends up in the sea. This whole vlei area that once upon a time could carry and fatten more cattle than any other part of the veld, of the same size on the farm, can nowadays hardly feed a mountain tortiss.
She closes the book. She smiles at me.
Tortiss.
She takes her little scissors out of the top pocket of her apron, cuts a strip of plaster, sticks down the stare-eye. She pulls off the tuft of Vaseline-soaked cotton wool holding the other eye open. I feel the upper lid descending slowly. Firmly she starts singing. I feel her breath on my face. I feel the dogs bumping against the bed. A wet snout burrows in under my hand.
Abide with Me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Behind Agaat they fall in, drawn-out, they drag the notes, through bone and marrow, the women just about weeping.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me!
Now everyone is transported by the power of the hymn. High rises Agaat’s descant for the last verse.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me!
The beginning you never recorded. You couldn’t bring yourself to it. It would take too long, you told yourself. A piece of explanation while everything was already in motion. Your marriage, farming with all its ramifications. There was in any case something cryptic about the beginning. You always told yourself, one day. When you’re not so busy. When you’ll be able to focus. When you