Rapidly she would wash, rapidly dry herself, thoroughly as in an institution, without dawdling, without a single gesture of self-cherishing. Everything would be in its place, as if for inspection. No tarrying, no reflection.
She would switch off the light at the door and wait in the dark for a moment until she could see again. Barefoot she would walk to the bed, hitch up her nightdress, get onto the bed with one knee first, worm in under the tensed sheets, without burrowing them loose, find a hollow for her head.
Would she lie open-eyed in the dark, first with her face to the window onto the yard? Would she lie looking at the glow of the moon through the curtains? Through a chink? At a star?
No, she would turn round on the other side, with her face to the wall.
And then with a sigh, a sigh you’d want to allow her, she’d close her eyes to sleep.
You thought all these things. All the time in that period before Jakkie’s birthday you thought about Agaat.
How did it come about then that that July of all Julys you once again forgot her birthday? For the third time?
waterchair coalblack hoisting sound at high C soap-resistant insulated rustfree synthetically upholstered so as not to scratch the bathtub weight limit 200 kilos for stouter fatter cripples but a thin one a light-weight to hoist her a joke to let down a doddle to bathe her child’s play on a double-decker bench minus armrests screwed to the water’s edge lower than the wheelchair so that she can slip effortlessly into it aquasitz by julius bach as one would expect from germans seatbelt neckring hydraulically we row along row along press the button then she rises up derricked over the edge and then again lowered to the bottom a light shock adjust the backrest lie back relax unlike the inner tube on which she gyrates on the whirlpool what is that she hears? a demonstration lesson? doctor unpacking bench again agent of bach in africa? but he left a long time ago! what does she hear in the dead of night? over and over the hoisting sound up and across and down seventy times seven times? she takes to her ibot mute medium cruise down the passage who’s there all alone in her bath? neck clamped in hoops straps tightened asleep in the waterchair? she sounds alarm with her chicken-claw waltzing mathilda jesu joy of man’s desiring blue danube jeepers creepers where’d ya get them peepers strangers in the night what a wonderful world who thinks it all up for the mutes? the walkers the waltzers the yearners? Your call will be answered her rescuer is out of reach in the dry bathtub hands folded on the chest the little one enfolded in the larger legs out straight ankles next to each other black and white and brown how rich her colour how soft her skin in the stark white cradle a capsule chair a space flight get up bathmaster! wake up gatekeeper! it’s not time yet for the last voyage sing to me if you knew susie as I know susie beyond the robot notes sing loud and clear a human song sing! a vulgar caterwauling against this drawn-out decrepitude
7 June 1954
Quite shaky now, ai good heavens! I had to dose Agaat with a tranquilliser and take some drops myself. So there we had a whole drama this evening coming back from the dance in town, just as well we didn’t stay too late.
I no longer lock her door, except when Jak and I go out, then I feel it’s safer like that. I always put her to sleep in any case before we leave. But as soon as I put my foot inside the door tonight, I knew something was wrong.
There she was huddled in the corner, eyes staring in the head, lucky I went to look immediately! With the funnel of the bellows in her mouth. Blood everywhere on the bedding, from her hands, nails torn to pieces to the quick. Won’t talk, shock or something. Thought at first she’d been assaulted, but the door was locked and I had the key in my handbag. Just now when I went to check, saw the scratch marks on the door, pure splinters! Some panic or other? I can’t understand it! Had to bandage her little hands, what a struggle to straighten the arms, her whole body convulsed again.
8 June 1954
Mystery cleared up! Only this morning discovered the poo and pee in the corner of the room, under the old telephone directory that I’d given her to play with! Saar, good Lord the woman! forgot yesterday to replace the little chamber pot in the back room after she’d cleaned it! That such a little oversight could cause such a setback, breaks my heart! Probably thought she was going to be given a hiding again because she’d soiled. So she tried to break down the door.
Now I have to start all over again.
It’s not your fault, you had no choice, I’ve been trying to explain for a whole day, you don’t get punished if you couldn’t do anything to prevent a bad thing. You don’t get punished just because you’re a human with natural needs. It was an accident! It’s not so bad! It’s just an old telephone book! Where else were you supposed to? If you have to go, you have to go. It’s Saar’s fault. I’ve scolded Saar.
It looks as if she doesn’t understand me. Has a wild look in her eyes.
9 June
Constipated! Understandable, shame. Doesn’t want to eat.
10 June
Still hasn’t pooed since the fright of the other evening. Small hand got hurt badly from digging away at the door.
11 June
Ai good Lord, gave Brooklax to get her tummy going, so then she soiled her pants and ran away I can’t find her! Just hope I haven’t caused a whole problem here.
15 June
Made a huge fire for her and danced and blew with the bellows and pretended we were witches, who’s afraid of a big bad poo. Going better!
17 June 1954
Every day great progress now, I feel. She’s speaking fluently now. She gets a hiding with the duster-stick if she speaks on the in-breath and if she stuffs her knuckle into her mouth and if she doesn’t look into my eyes nicely when she talks. That’s the minimum, I say, you talk properly with a straight-out breath, you breathe between every sentence and you look at people full-face, otherwise people will think you’re devious.
11 July 1954
Suppose A. must have a birthday some time or other. Phoned Ma to have enquiries made about her date of birth at the hovels on Goedbegin.
She says they don’t know exactly. It was before the winter, they think end May ’47 or ’48. So she must have been four or five when I found her. But May has passed, I don’t suppose it matters that much.
And Lys sends greetings, apparently. I’m going to bake a chocolate cake tonight with six candles on it. Tomorrow is the day! Agaat’s birthday. I feel I must celebrate it so that she can start becoming human here on Gdrift. Explained to her nicely: we commemorate the day that the Lord gave you as gift to yourself and to me.
12 July half past eight
Perhaps not such a bright idea to let Agaat have a birthday. Didn’t occur to me that you need other people for such a birthday. In the end had Saar’s children come in their Sunday best. Handed out cake and cooldrinks at a little table in the backyard. Had to keep an eye all the time. As soon as I turn my back, the taunting starts. Donkey-jaw, dassie-paw. I make eye signals at Agaat. Never mind, they don’t know any better. Later just sent the children home and phoned Beatrice to come over. Made Agaat recite rhymes and tell us tales in the sitting room and clapped hands every time when she’d finished. Everything from jack be nimble jack be quick to let us shine for Jesus.