The free spirit of the Free State
This is how you get frostbite, I think to myself, as I wriggle my freezing toes in my vellies. They stay numb and I walk on, hoping a stroll through town will help them thaw out. It’s just after 7 am in July and Rosendal is quiet. Correction: It’s always quiet in Rosendal, but there’s no sign of life just yet. Cattle from the nearby township of Mautse graze next to the road, leaving heaps of steaming dung in their wake. Those dung heaps look so nice and warm! I’m tempted to bury my cold feet in them.
Yesterday I walked the entire periphery of Rosendal – 5,43 km in total. One of the houses I saw on the other side of town was decorated with steel flowers. Art is also in evidence on this side of town: Painter Lein Smuts is sitting on a rock wearing a beanie and scarf, with a sketch pad on her lap. Next door, someone is meditating in front of their sliding door.
The erven are all roughly similar in size – about 70 x 100 m – and almost all of them have chickens scratching around in the dirt, wind chimes swaying in the breeze and fairy lights or teacups hanging from porch
