Now you two go and milk the Jerseys, they must be sore by this time, she said. You sent Saar along to keep an eye because they were stepping very high indeed.
Men! you and Agaat signalled to each other with the eyes. But your part of the message was vitiated by her look. Some women! it said.
By four o’clock that morning the tulip poison had been counteracted. You administered barley-water and linseed-lime because the animals couldn’t drink ordinary water. But the new herd had been saved. Hamburg was starting to see better out of his eyes. He stopped peeing and started shitting less and less. Just the one cow that had been given the enema was looking weakish.
Everybody who had helped was ready to drop from hunger and fatigue. Agaat went home and for the second time that day washed and dressed in clean clothes.
The kitchen was a chaos, lime and oil on the floor and all the separated yolks standing around everywhere in dishes and bowls. All the egg, Agaat said, overwhelmed for the first time that day, you could see.
Never mind, we can use it, you said, let’s make food for the people, they must be starving. You mixed the batter and Agaat started baking vetkoek and bacon and fried onion and pans full of scrambled eggs. Along with big jugs of sweet rooibos tea with milk you helped her to serve it in the backyard.
Aitsa, such a whitecap cattle-quack, the servants teased Agaat, how she blows a bull full of brandy!
There was new respect in the teasing and in the attitude, even of the big men when they brought back their plates and came to hand back the mugs into her hands.
You served Jak and the vet indoors. They were quiet.
That little coloured girl of yours deserves a medal, Thom Smuts said after a while to Jak with his mouth full of egg.
That’s Milla’s department, Jak replied, and gestured with his head in your direction where you were pouring coffee. It’s she who should get the compliment.
my nurse takes me under my own law she counts my blessings for me minces my meals flushes my guts wipes my arse twists my buttons into their holes coat-buttons blouse-buttons jersey-buttons knots my shoelaces girds my buckles zips up my side-zips back-zips breast-zips my hooks my eyes shrouds my body closes off my openings she cleanses me combs me powders me paints me I am a well-rounded woman an effigy of a woman a scarecrow on a broomstick
doll and gaat go to town they pretend nothing is wrong gaat starched mrs de wet packaged they step with tiny tiny steps four legs and a walking stick they nod tiny tiny nods good morning good morning good day they invite the world to tea and cake mrs de wet is sixty-seven her hands they lie in her lap she drinks through a straw her vitamins for who would ever drink tea through a straw?
next to her waits her walking stick the finches twitter in the rushes who’s afraid of a broomstick who’s afraid of a walking stick?
o who’s afraid of a walking stick
the first one was a knob-stick but soon the knob was too knobbly the second had a crook-neck but soon the neck was too crooked the third had a finger-grip but soon the grip started to slip the fourth was of light metal with rubber on the tip and rubber on the grip and a silver hoop to support the wrist
and then there were two of the same
one for each elbow
hopalong down the passage a clumsy camel on the stoep calump calump here comes kamilla a bat on crutches a gothic letter who said we do not hear the coming of death?
the fifth had four legs and a name in chrome on the shaft
viking strider
the strider itself had a calf-foot rest she walks like a sentinel in athens her head on her neck a pitch-black tassel her heart waggles like a gyroscope
3 October 1961
What more must I think up to get hr down? Braying hides ploughing waterproofing tarpaulins seeder-sums! All in vain! It’s a year later & again it’s exactly the same damn nonsense as last year. Seems seasonal. Don’t want to end up in those maelstroms with her again.
So tonight the macaroni comes to the table again burnt to a cinder & Jak takes one look & gets up & drives away at speed. Waited till Jakkie was away & took a mouthful of J.’s brandy to calm myself & then went & knocked at A’s door. Said she had to come to the kitchen immediately. At first she won’t utter yea or nay & stares at the ground.
Now you’re going to look at me my girl I say look me in the eyes & tell me what in heaven’s name is wrong this time? A small flickering on her face but I keep my cool — would it do now to give hr the idea that she’s won here & I ask: What on God’s earth must I do with you to get you good again? & then of course I said the wrong thing: I can’t live any longer with such a person in my house. But wouldn’t she give me a quick look. I’m not in your house she says I’m in the outside room right there I almost explode with anger but I restrain myself & ask again: What must I do to get you good?
I want a fireplace, she says. I ask you!
Full of specifications on top of that: a grid & fire-irons & a mantel-piece. In my room. It’s damp. Its walls are mouldering. I’m cold.
Just like that full in my face.
It’s October I say. It’ll be winter again she says. It’s winter when I have my birthday.
Oh Lord is that what’s been going on all the time! With Jakkie’s birthday being in August A.’s in July of course went by disregarded again. How can she expect of me to remember that as well? But then for the sake of sweet peace I said I’m sorry & I said: A fireplace — what do you think of yourself! She gave me that look of hers & showed with her fingers & she said: I took your bull for you by the nose so that he could be dosed.
What could I raise against that? Her list could have been much longer.
9 October 1961 half past seven
From early this morning there’s been a breaking & hammering in the backyard & A.’s stuff has been carried out in a pile. Decided after all to have a fireplace installed in her room. It gets cold back there in the winter & Jakkie is now spending all his time with hr. Will have to teach hr to drive as well. Don’t want another crisis when Jak or Dawid isn’t here.
Where have you ever in your life heard of slave quarters with a built-in fireplace says J., does she think she’s a royal skivvy with a pedigree in Scotland? If I were him I say I’d keep my mouth shut she led his holy Hamburg by the nose for him & blew wine spirits into him while he the so-called master was prancing about volleying on the tennis court.
Had the dish & grid welded last week & had the lime mixed for the whitewashing on the outside & the black chimney pot is standing ready & the iron cross-beam to go above the grate so that the whole operation can be completed in a few days. See to it that it draws properly I said to D. there’s no point in going to all the trouble & then we’re stuck with smother & smoke inside the room. It must be got ready & right before we start the harvest there’s no time for toiling & moiling.