The Restory Retreat Centre

Photograph by Matilda Angus His name is Monty. Actually Montgomery, but he is only addressed that way if he’s doing something a naughty Monty would do. I also call him “Montego Bay” or “Wille Waghond” (Afrikaans for wild guard dog). Sebastien calls him “Monkey dog”. About the size of a brick, maybe smaller, with a thimble mouth, he epitomizes chutzpah. He has taken the guard duty of Barowfield onto himself, being of the opinion that it was in a shambles when he arrived here about four months ago. At the slightest noise outside, he’ll run from door to door or jump onto the coach and then into the wide window sill to deliver his warning or to inspect. Among other things, 800 kg bulls are charged and snakes confronted. And he’ll end up with the juicy bone initially given to Jasper the Border collie and will protect it so ferociously that none of the bigger dogs will come near him. With absolutely nothing to his advantage or in his favor but attitude. The love of his life is...

Photo taken here at Barrowfield by Marinetha Naude “How are things going on earth?” Leo, an elderly angel, asks God. God smiles and fondly thinks back on the seven days of creation. A difficult, but fascinating task. “Now that you ask, I think I must go and have a look.” And God comes to earth on a sunny September day. The birds are chirping, a little stream is running downhill to a small village. In the fields, women are working who sings cheerfully. Songs about the harvest, about love, songs about wine. And God thinks: This must be Tuscany. And looks satisfied across the landscape. Walks along the road, down to the village. In the middle of the small town square, stands a peculiar building. A dome of bricks with a tower and on top of the tower a golden cross. God walks up the gigantic stairs in front of the peculiar building and comes into a cold, draughty space with, on its walls, all these remarkable figures, mourning women with floating little hoops above their heads, an awful...