You closed your eyes, but you couldn’t banish the image of the spilling spattering scattering melons from your eyes. The whole car smelt of it.
how does a sickness begin? botulism from eating skeletons but where do the skeletons come from? loco-disease nenta preacher-tick-affliction smut-ball bunt black-rust glume-blotch grubs beetles snails moths army caterpillars all invisible onsets soil is more long-suffering than wheat more long-suffering than sheep soil sickens slowly in hidden depths from tilling from flattening with the back of the spade from heavy grubbing in summer wind i am neither sheep nor wheat did i think then i was god that i had to lie and take it did i think then i was a mountain or a hill or a ridge and who told me that and who decided stones had no rights for stones can waste away from being denied from being abused and who decided who is the ploughed and who ploughs and why did i not get up and why not go away and what would have happened if i had resisted her my mother my instructress of amenability foot-rot will-wilt green-sick nasella-clump charlock disillusioned despot skeleton in the ground now it has struck will strike at me because i did not strike back i smother in words that nobody can hear i clamp myself gather my waters my water-retaining clods my loam my shale i am fallow field but not decided by me who will gently plough me on contour plough in my stubbles and my devil’s-thorn fertilise me with green-manure and with straw to stiffen the wilt that this wilderness has brought on this bosom and brain? who blow into my nostrils with breath of dark humus? who sow in me the strains of wheat named for daybreak or for hope? how will my belated harvest reflect and in what water? who will harvest who shear who share my fell my fleece my sheaf my small white pips? who will chew me until i bind for i have done as was done unto me the sickness belongs to us two.
21 April 1960
Off to a good start today with the fixing up of the rooms the outside room and the nursery. Understand for the first time why everything had to happen the way it did God’s great Providence. Had the nursery painted & the outside room whitewashed inside & out nice & tidy snow-white. Plascon for the one & whitewash for the other — economical — can always redo it. Washable Plascon for nursery busy little hands dirty little feet! A good opportunity while I’m about it to have all the outside rooms rewashed & for once to get everything in the backyard nice and tidy.
A. is getting the middle storeroom it has the largest window and a small one at the back as well.
Had carried out & sorted & thrown away & managed to squeeze everything into two other little rooms spades forks wheelbarrows small garden tools chicken-feed & pigs’ supplementary feed & bone-meal & bags of compost for the garden had everything packed in the one and all the old furniture in the other. Had best bed & mattress & kitchen table & scrubbing-table and washstand (the one with the little tiles) carried into A’s rm. All the necessary fortunately in stock. Considered a carpet but J. won’t have any of it will make a plan left-over length of linoleum fitted loose for the time being easier to keep clean in any case.
Now everything is as it should be suppose it’s the right thing to do for everyone’s sake. It’s not as if there was any other way out. Phoned Beatrice to tell her of my decision and she’s now considerably relieved and full of sweet talk and wants to propose me for chairlady of the WAU. Imagine! I could slap the woman, really.
Situation with J. God be thanked better now that I’m doing something about the matter. That it should cost so much but I’d rather not think about it. How long will he remain satisfied? He’s threatening to burn my diaries. He says if he has to clear out his stuff all the time as if it’s trash why can my books litter the place secret writing without full stops and commas perhaps I should go and read it out loud on radio so that he too can get to know the soul of woman and the distress of hr hand-maid.
Would in any case have to get in a nursemaid farmgirls too dirty & uneducated. J. thinks he’s now shown what he can do with wheat & isn’t all that interested in the farm any more & I ever more involved in the farming it can’t be neglected with the arrival of the child. A. will have to be my eyes and ears here on Gdrift. Must be ever more vigilant & keep my hand on routines of shearing & sowing & slaughtering. Planning & management bore him. Soil & water are all my responsibility & I tell him that’s the difference between a living and a dead farm. He says he’s going to write a piece in the Farmer’s Weekly: The options of a gentleman farmer, a living farm with a dead wife or a dead farm with a living wife now I’m giving up pleading.
J. at least looks after the purchases & that’s where I let it be now. Just wish he’d do his own research about implements & stop messing around with agents. Have a way of disappearing off the face of the earth with their commission & only when you’re stuck in the middle of the harvest with a broken-down combine do you hear about faulty parts that you should have had replaced before you even switched on the thing. A careless species. Cheap psychology & flashy talk. J. will just have to learn through his mistakes.
Will really not be able to manage without a good childminder. A. can write & read & cook well can trust her 100 % very diligent very conscientious should really not be too much of a problem & she’ll develop nicely in time to come.
Considering salary, savings account post office. Still have to convince J. of that he says she gets food & clothing & a roof over her head from beginning to end that’s better than life assurance with Sanlam. For the time being he’s satisfied with his stoep office.
Have to put on a brave face all the time. Feeling nauseous. Faint. See black & have to sit down. All these things that change so quickly. Must just keep going & think of nothing. Or listen to music. Bach. Bach always helps. Have to wait till J. is out otherwise I’ll have to hear again put a sock in the holy barrel organ.
2
Half past nine on the alarm clock. Punctual to the second. From her footfall I can tell that I’ve gone and unleashed something again. Tchi, tchi, tchi, go her soles on the floor as she approaches down the passage, extra emphasis in the heels. Touchy when I want something out of the normal routine. Better not look her in the eye then. I keep my gaze on the white paper on which my hand lies in its splint.
She puts down the tray on the dressing table. She picks up the pen that has fallen from my hand. She grunts as she comes upright.
Ai, ai, she says, ai ai ai, what monkey business is this now?
She pulls out the clipboard from under my hand, turns it upside down, looks at it and tilts it back at me again. She holds out the paper with the wavering line and taps on it with the back of the pen.
L, she sounds, l, so that I can see her tongue in the front of her mouth.
L is for lie, she says. I know you’re lying.
She adjusts three of the bed’s back panels so that I tilt slightly, at a bit more of an angle, my head higher, but still on my back. That’s my best position for breathing.
Lie lady lie, Agaat singspeaks through her teeth on the inhalation, lie lady lie, while she pushes in the pegs and retightens the screws.