Marlene van Niekerk - Agaat

Of the friends it’s only Beatrice that Agaat still allows to see me, if she should want to, that is. After that conversation in Jak’s office she’s rather withdrawn herself from me. Scared of her own emotions. Only now do I realise how widespread it must be. Blunted men, suck-weary women. Only death can still whet their appetites.

Agaat keeps their visits brief since she’s realised it. Gives them tea in the sitting room, lets them greet in the doorway, not a step closer, takes them out again. Closes the front door on their backs. Sometimes they slip through, down the passage. The inquisitive mainly, the spiteful attracted to the bed of affliction.

Such vanity, it all seems from here. The endless stream of visitors that I had here at one stage. Until Agaat decided that was enough now. Now it’s her turn and her turn alone.

Now that I have only my thoughts that I may think, without ever having to express them, the last scrapings of my senses. Light, dark, heat, voices, open doors, wind. The ruin that Agaat helps me to inhabit. A squatter in my own body. Wind-blown settlement. A perilous freedom.

So she would be able to spend the rest of her earthly days writing down what she went through with me. If I provisionally have the advantage, that’s only because I won’t live for long enough to read her writings one day.

She’d be capable of putting my head in a clamp to force me. Specially intended for my eyes. Niche market.

There she is dialling the number in the passage now, she sits down for the conversation. She’ll dissemble more if she thinks I’m sleeping.

This is Agaat, she says. Her voice comes out low.

She clears her throat. Lower the girl.

This is Grootmoedersdrift, Nooi Beatrice, Agaat speaking.

That’s better. In her place. Sharp and clear. The soul of innocence. The brownest servant in the land.

Morning, Nooi, how are you, Nooi?

No, so-so, Nooi. Nooi, I want to ask if you can help me, Nooi. I must get to town tomorrow, Nooi, with Dawid. I want to ask if you could come and watch over Ounooi here for a few hours, please Nooi.

Watch over. Masterly choice of words, Agaat.

What was that, Nooi? No, I must buy all sorts of things, at the chemist and from the shop. And I must arrange things with the printer, for the cards and the programme as the ounooi wants them all for the funeral.

Yes, there’ll be many people, Nooi. If everybody comes it will be close to a hundred people, we’ll have to stir our stumps, Nooi.

Stir our stumps. Lord. Is she making it up, perhaps? Perhaps she wants the farm exchange to hear. Perhaps she’s talking straight into the monotone of the dialling tone.

No, Saar and Lietja wouldn’t know, Nooi, they’re farm people, they’re unwashed.

You’re right in there, my old body-servant, all the way to my neighbour’s wife’s tonsils you’re in.

Yes, everything in order here, Nooi, just last night we almost had a mishap. No, the slimes, the slimes, you know, go and settle under in the lungs, as you know she can’t cough for herself any more.

No, I knock it to the top as doctor taught me, then I remove it with a little suction pump, I know how to by now. Doctor was here, yes, he gave oxygen. We have oxygen here now.

Yes, he showed me how.

Not much, about two hours at a time, but then I get up, then I look.

How do you mean now, Nooi?

No, Nooi, the ounooi plays along very well, she knows I must do it all, she understands.

Yes, Agaat, she lies here and she understands. And she listens to the price you have to pay there on the telephone for a simple neighbourly favour. Old vulture’s beak smacks as she devours the line. Feed her, Agaat. Feed her till she’s gorged.

Agaat lowers her voice. She coughs.

No, quite clear. Completely conscious still.

No, doctor says you can’t do more at home than I’m doing. He says otherwise she must go off to hospital.

That really wouldn’t work, Nooi.

No, I just know, she doesn’t want to. She signed the papers.

She doesn’t want the machines on her. She thinks doctor wants to prescribe to her how. How she must, you know Nooi, how she must. . go before. .

Agaat shifts her weight on the stool. The boards creak in the passage. She is quiet for a long time. Would she be patting her cap to make sure that it’s seated properly? Would she be concentrating on the floorboards?

No, says Agaat, she would never, she’s too obstinate, she wants to do it herself.

I’ll watch well, Nooi Beatrice, you know don’t you, we know each other, the ounooi and me, we’ve come a long way together. She only wants me here.

No, I understand her, Nooi, she still wants to see everything, she wants to hear, I know, she still wants to taste and everything.

No, I just know. No, she can’t, not a word, but I look at her then I know.

Yes, Nooi, please, Nooi. As early as you can, yes, Nooi. Eight o’clock, half past eight. There’ll be breakfast here for you, Nooi.

Yes, by twelve we’ll be back.

First to the co-op, yes, Dawid must get things, parts for the combine harvester that he has to keep in order, yes, and sacks.

Baling wire, yes, there’s enough, the railway bus delivered.

A bit of a squeeze everything, yes, and the harvest is late this year, but I knew it would be around Christmas sometime, so my side is ready.

Yes, so now we can only wait. .

Agaat’s voice sounds tired.

Yes, yes, only to town, as I say, Nooi. We have to deliver things. No, the eggs and the milk. Pumpkins. Onions too. And I must exchange the videos. But the story films upset her, now I keep to nature films. National Geographic , yes.

That’s right, Agaat, butterflies, bats, killer whales. Juicy bribes for the neighbour’s wife.

Agaat rubs out an insect on the passage floor with the point of her shoe.

Yes, Human and Pitt, she says.

Quickly she speaks now.

Yes, that’s here already, it’s standing in the shed. They want to come and do it here. Yes, they say it’s better at home when somebody has been lying for such a long time already.

Dominee, yes, he phones regularly and asks, yes, Mrs Dominee as well, but Ounooi doesn’t want them here, nor the elder.

I do the service.

I do it, yes. I pray and I read when she feels the need, and I sing.

Yes. It will be here on the farm. In the graveyard here.

Yes, it’s been dug for a long time. Next to her mother’s. Wire netting over it so that things can’t nest in it.

Weeded, yes. Whitewashed, too, the wall. Everything tidy. I sowed a few painted ladies seeds there, they’re nicely in flower now.

Who? Jakkie? Last time he still said he was coming. It’s snowing there, he says it’s lying thick. Tomorrow I’m sending him a telegram so that he has it, black on white.

He’s working, yes till just before Christmas, they don’t have a holiday now.

No, it’s arranged. Everything’s arranged. So will you please come tomorrow, Nooi? Thank you very much, Nooi. Till tomorrow then, Nooi. Thank you, Nooi. The same to you, Nooi.

I beg your pardon, Nooi?

No, doctor says he thinks less than a month, Nooi, perhaps a month.

No, Nooi, yes, Nooi, we can only hope for the best, Nooi. Well, that’s fine then, Nooi. Till tomorrow, Nooi. Goodbye, Nooi.

Tsk, Agaat sucks her teeth.

I don’t hear her replace the receiver.

The board next to the telephone stool creaks as she comes upright and then it creaks again as she sits down again. Then it creaks again. Then she replaces the receiver with a soft click. Then it clicks again as she lifts it.

Is everything in order, Agaat?

She slams the phone down hard on the cradle. The receiver falls off, I can hear it banging against the wall as it swings from its cord.