Rosendal... forever in my heart
It has been six months since I returned to the USA, my home country – after 10 years in the little dorpie of Rosendal in the South African platteland.
Where we live now, the roads are smooth and the electricity is always on, but there is a large hole in my heart.
In Rosendal, the pace of life is slow, and I found it lifegiving. There are mountains to contemplate, clouds to watch, cows dawdling down the road, always friends to greet, a cup of tea to drink.
Many people have a communal role. There are the pie bakers, snake catchers, builders, bread bakers, expert gardeners and horse whisperers. I always had a tow rope in my Landy, and helped out when roads were muddy. In all my life, I never felt so much like I was actually living.
Market days were wonderful: so many talented people selling interesting things. Or the trading. I got a couple of Linda Pretorius paintings in exchange for bicycles, and a Michèle Nigrini for beef. It’s life done with someone you know, each interaction a personal one, and life is richer for it.
My wife is originally from Rosendal, and in 2012 we packed up our Florida home and moved to South Africa where we’d purchased 40 hectares of land. We carried with us big dreams. We had attended a cob-building workshop, and planned on an off-the-grid cob house and large garden, canning everything we could, getting dairy goats and making cheese, fermenting at home, slaking lime, installing a compost toilet… everything! If you’ve read about it in any homesteading book or magazine, we were going to do it!
Building a cob home was an adventure. The stem wall was built from local sandstone, then the cob mix (sandy dirt, crusher dust, clay and straw) went on top. The most amazing thing was that in the morning, I could hold some cob in my hand and it would be soft, wet and a bit gritty with some straw sticking out. I would work it into the top of the wall, applying a layer 4-6 cm thick. After lunch, the wet, soft cob from the morning was just stiff enough that I could carefully kneel on it and work in a second layer. The next morning, it was like firm mud, and I could walk on it carefully without it losing much shape. A week later, it was hard. A month later, it was solid.
We moved in with no fixed solar panels and no running water inside, but over time the house became a home. A wood stove was added the second winter. Together with the thermal mass of the cob, it was cosy inside in winter, and in the heat of summer, it was pleasant. I really believe it was the most comfortable home in the Eastern Free State. Two kilowatts of panels and a lithium battery made the last few years easy compared to those when we were Eskom-dependent.
I will always remember waking up in the morning and looking out at the sun rising over the kloof of neighbouring Mosamane Guest Farm. I thought I would be looking out at the cliff and the mountains an old man one day, still taking care of the house that I felt took care of me.
Alas, life is unpredictable. Both our children wanted to attend universities in the US, which together with other reasons saw us trek once again. We’ve left behind a wonderful dream, and are waiting now for someone else to pick it up and carry it forward. Anyone interested, please mail me at
scstone2@mac.com.
Read our special feature on cob building on page 92. – Eds.