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I sidle up, all cocky, “Hey, darlin’, what’s the rate?” She smirks, “More’n you dig in a week.” Ouch, burn! I’m pissed—me, a bailiff, gettin’ sassed? But I laugh, ‘cause she’s got guts. Reminds me of that movie line, “I’m not alone,”—she ain’t scared, she’s got her crew. I’m thinkin’, “Respect, girl, no capes on you!” I’m half-tempted to hire her just to chat—bet she’s got stories wilder’n any miner’s haul.

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I’m always drawn to the vibe of Dorp East. A cluster of quirky houses, alleyways echoing history, and the odd graffiti masterpiece that makes ya laugh. Small corners like that build your mind up, kinda like a meditation session for a busy brain. Sometimes, when I’m workin’ on my zen, I park myself on a worn bench near Tramper’s Bend (yep, that’s the local nickname for the twisted road near the big windmill). It’s a spot where nature and chaos tango, remindin' me of nature’s fierce ballet.

Mother and daughter (3) killed in crash near Prieska, Northern Cape